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deathbecomesthem · 4 months

Text

Ready, Steady, Go

MINORS DNI - STRICTLY 18+

*This is a reupload from my old blog. If you think it looks familiar, it's because it probably is.

Part 2 of Three's Company

wc: 2.8K

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Everyone is about age 30 in this one, think mid to late 90s. This chapter is Steve Harrington x Reader smut.

A/N: This is a Steddie x Reader story, but this chapter is the first time that Steve and the reader are intimate with one another, one on one, without their mutual lover Eddie.

Contains: Poly relationship dynamics, smut (oral and vaginal), and lots of feelings. It's so soft guys.Keep reading

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Steve and Eddie have maneuvered through their relationship quietly. They’re still long time roommates to many of the people in their lives. They don’t hide themselves away, but they don’t invite many people in either. It’s not just for their personal safety, but their emotional well being is a priority. Sometimes, it’s too much to bear to think about losing a dear friend or family member for just being who they are.

What no one had really considered before opening the relationship to add you in was the fact that you made it possible for them to go places together that otherwise might be viewed with suspicion. There was no point in focusing on the injustice of that, bitterness can turn a good thing sour. No one wants that. The three of you are finding ways to fit your lives together, and so far it’s been shockingly natural. With love at the center, the rest seems to just fall into place.

So, why are you so nervous right now? A weekend alone with Steve isn’t something out of the ordinary - but this is the first time the two of you will be alone since you’ve been intimate. Eddie has always been there until now. What if there’s nothing without your shared love to hold onto? It’s a niggling fear that flits to the forefront of your thoughts when you least expect it. What if this is the way the end begins.

You’re sitting in the chair in the corner of Eddie’s bedroom watching him pack his bag. He’s leaving in a half an hour, Eddie’s never been good at planning ahead. Unsaid concerns have turned into a lump in your throat. You can only sit and watch him move from the closet to the bed, snapping his fingers together when he remembers an item or two that he almost forgot to pack. And then he breaks the silence.

“What do you and Stevie have planned this weekend? I’ll miss you two so much.” Eddie’s tucking a fourth pair of black jeans into the corner of the suitcase, far too many for the three days he’ll be gone. He’s likely to forget to pack any socks, but have enough pants to last a month.

“Oh,” you pull your legs up to rest your feet on the edge of the chair. You’re pulling yourself in, making yourself small, “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it. I might just spend some time by myself.”

Eddie slows his movements and sighs a little to himself before saying, “I thought it might be nice if you two spent some time alone together.” Eddie moves toward you, and drops down to his knees in front of you. He lays his head in your lap, “I know you both, and I love you both. I see it, ya know? There can be more between the two of you, if you let it happen.”

You don’t respond, but you let the words roll around in your head while you run your fingers through his hair. Yes, he’ll only be gone for a couple of days, a short weekend trip to visit Wayne and go fishing, but you ache at the thought of his absence. He is your heart. For him, you will try. And for yourself, too.

—

Steve comes home an hour after Eddie’s already gone. You make a point to be sitting in the kitchen with a pot of oolong when he walks through the door. A loaf of banana bread is cooling on a wire rack on the counter, a treat you know he can’t resist.

“Hey,” Steve’s smile is wide when he catches sight of you. He kicks his shoes off by the door and heads over to kiss your head in his usual greeting. “Oh, ho ho, is that what I think it is?”

“Mmm, yes it is. Fresh out of the oven. Look at what a good little homemaker I am.” You flutter your eyes at him and smile. “Let’s have some and spoil our dinner. I made tea.”

Steve immediately gets to work pulling out small plates from the overhead cupboard, and setting the butter dish on the kitchen table. You see him breathe in the smell of the bread deeply when he cuts the first slice, it’s still warm enough that steam rises from the loaf when the knife cuts through it.

You love seeing him like this. Steve finds the joy in these little things, and even before the dynamic shifted between the two of you, offering Steve little treats was always one of your favorite things.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m not complaining.” He sits down and melts into the chair. His glasses fog when he takes his first sip of tea. You’re studying him, watching the way he tastes the bread and drinks his tea. You watch the muscles in his jaw. You watch him suck the crumbs off his thumb. He really is very pretty.

You ignore the fear inside you, and do what feels natural. You sneak your foot over to his, and rub the arch of his foot with your big toe. He grins at you through the still foggy lenses. His other foot rubs the side of yours. This game of footsie while you eat banana bread at 5:30 on a Friday evening feels more intimate than when you swallow each other's moans under the covers of Eddie’s bed.

“What do you want to do tonight, Steve?” You pinch the top of his foot with your toes in conjunction with the question. Playful and light to hide the anxiety. Because you don’t have plans with Steve tonight, and you don’t have the kind of comfortable relationship that you and Eddie share where time together is a natural thing that just happens.

“Tonight? Oh, I don’t know,” there’s genuine surprise in his voice, as if the idea that the night might come never occurred to him. “What about you, Honey? Think you might want some company?”

Honey. The name is warm and sticky, it sends a tingle down your spine. It’s better suited for the man sitting across from you, with his gold flecked irises and the amber highlights threading through his graying hair. Never mind his sticky sweet nature.

“That would be just the thing, Stevie. I’m already lonely with our sweet muppet gone. We can keep each other company, hm?”

Steve sits up straight, lighting striking him, “Oh! I know what we can do.” He jumps out of his chair and strides over to the drawer next to the dishwasher. He fiddles around in it, and pulls out a paper menu. It’s the place around the corner that Eddie hates. You tried to make him love the unique dish that reminds you of home, but he turned his nose up at it. The same man that eats Vienna sausages and Velvetta won’t even try a plate of the surprisingly complex dish that is Cincinnati chili.

“You just scored big points, Stevie. Throw in a couple of cannoli from Angelo’s, and I’m yours forever.”

—

With full bellies, it was natural the way you fit into his side while the blue glow of the television screen played your favorite John Hughes film. Steve’s hand runs up and down your arm, but his eyes stay on the screen - he loves these kinds of movies, and it’s rare when he can enjoy them without the moaning of your shared boyfriend. For you and Steve, this is an experience neither of you realized you were missing. It’s warm and lovely to be with him like this. Quiet and secure. Held. And you want him more than you thought was possible. You want his hands on you.

You’ve been in the dark with Steve and Eddie. You’ve shared the heights of pleasure with them both. But you and Steve have yet to cross the line into lovers. You’ve mapped Steve’s beautiful body with your eyes, your mouths have met in passionate kisses while Steve’s cock is inside of your boyfriend. You wonder, will he have you?

This is when you decide it’s worth the risk of rejection to see if he also wants to see where the night could take you. You turn your head and look up at his face. You can see the moles scattered across his skin under that blue light, and you speak.

“Stevie,” your voice is a whine, betraying the sudden need that’s building in your gut, “you look so pretty right now.”

The blue light of the television screen across the room flashes in the lenses of his glasses when he whips his head to face you. You can’t see his eyes, they’re obscured by the glare. Steve leaves nothing to the imagination, he doesn’t make you wonder. He takes off the acrylic frames and searches your eyes. Satisfied with what he sees, he smiles as he cups your face and leans down to kiss you.

Slow. The eagerness is there, it would be a disappointment if it was missing, but it’s slow. He’s tasting you, savoring the flavor of your lips - red wine, salty popcorn, and mint lip gloss. You think you could stay like this, open mouths searching one another, teeth scraping soft lips, forever and never tire of it. A wide palm instinctively finds the bare skin at the small of your back, a thumb strokes your spine.

“Steve,” the word released into the air between your mouths makes him dizzy. “Stevie, please.”

Steve breaks the kiss to rest his head on your forehead. The air between you is heavy and humid. Your eyes, blurry from the closeness of your faces, bore into his. Any question either of you may have had about whether there is something between the two of you without the affection of your shared lover evaporates into the air with your shared breaths.

“I want to see you, Honey. You’re so pretty.” Steve closes his eyes when he tells you this. And you think, how could I deny a request like that from this man.

His eyes remain closed as you stand. You take your hand in his, and pull him to his feet. Neither of you realizes the film is still playing on the screen in the living room as you lead him down to the room at the end of the hallway. Your room.

Steve stands and watches you while you undress. He’s seen you this way before, many times. He’s never failed to see the beauty in your form, but it’s different right now. Quiet. He can watch the way your hands move. He can see the muscles flex in your shoulder as you reach behind your back to unhook your bra. He can see each soft curve of your skin and admire them.

Eddie isn’t a distraction. Eddie is a force of nature. Eddie is the sun. It’s easy to be blinded by him. His absence tonight allows the light to stay low, it allows movements to slow. It allows you and Steve the space to look at each other and spend the time. Your only regret is that Eddie can’t be a fly on the wall to see these quiet moments between the two loves of his life.

You don’t feel insecure as you kick off the small piece of fabric from your ankle, letting your black panties hit the shin of Steve’s jeans. You feel powerful. He’s eating you up with his eyes. You can practically see smoke leave his nostrils when he huffs through them, lips tight. His jaw is clamped, while you crawl onto the bed, allowing him a full view of your slowly swaying ass.

“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna kill me.” Steve is still standing at the end of the bed as you present yourself, laying on your back, legs spread. Your hand roams your chest and stomach, dipping to the soft pubic hair - touching the places where you wish his hands would search.

“Stevie. Are you just gonna stand there?” Your words are soft. A hand grasps one of your breasts, squeezing it. Desperate to feel something. The open air between the two of you is too much. Steve doesn’t bother with his own clothes, his fingers are aching. They’re empty, and are desperate to feel your soft skin.

Slow. Deliberate. A steady hand travels down the valley of your chest, long fingers brushing gently across your skin. Gooseflesh erupts along their path. You’ve been holding your breath in anticipation of his touch. His attention. He’s focused on only you tonight for the first time, and you are full.

“Your skin is so soft.” Steve’s voice breaks the silence, and you release the air from your lungs. “Look at you.”

You can’t look at yourself, so you look at him. The moonlight sneaks through the blinds, reaching out for him. Bathed in moonlight, you see everything. You see him. You smell him. You feel him. Even now with his lust clouded mind, his hands are steady and searching.

Featherlight touches travel past your navel. Your breathing hitches when he gently strokes against your already swollen clit. He continues to the silky smooth lips below, and runs up and down. He delights in every one of your hitching breaths, a crooked smile spreads across his lips.

“You’re wet, Honey, and I’m so thirsty. Can I have a drink?”

You open your mouth to respond, but you have no words. He doesn’t wait for them, he dips his head down. He smells you. He’s smelled you before against Eddie’s skin, but from the source it’s intoxicating. He opens his mouth and keeps his eyes on you while he takes his first taste.

Steve hasn’t tasted a woman in years. He hasn’t missed it, not really. Right now, though, he cannot believe how sweet you taste. How soft your thighs feel. He can’t get over the way the fine hairs on your skin stand up with every little touch he offers. His fingers sink into the flesh of your ass as his tongue moves. You’re so slick. He can feel the way your little button grows under his tongue. His cock aches to feel you around him.

Not yet, Steve, he reminds himself. He can feel you shuddering under him. He can see your eyes flutter. He needs you to come. You’re close. He closes his lips against your clit, and sucks gently while running his tongue against you with a persistent pressure.

Gone. You’re gone. You can feel fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, keeping you from floating off the bed and into the air. You can imagine yourself drifting off through the vastness of space fueled by the ecstasy you feel. Your body trembles. You cry out for him, you cry out for your Stevie. Your sweet boy.

Your cries of his name undo him. His lips are still attached to you, still letting you ride out your orgasm while one of his hands unzips his pants. His cock aches. The immediate need, releasing the painful constriction of his jeans, isn’t enough. He needs to be inside of you. Your eyes finally meet his again.

“Please, Steve. Please. I need you inside me.” Your begging is met with a groan against your cunt. His lips let go, and you see how red they are. Swollen from their work. You rock against nothing at the sight. The slow and steady movements are gone now. Steve throws his shirt - pants - socks - boxers - to the side with speed. He’s laid bare in front of you, a marble statue brought to life.

Your legs open to receive him, and he slots between them. Steve fills you up with the first thrust, and you’re seeing stars. You’re vaguely aware of the sound leaving your throat, something between a moan and a cry. Steve’s hand is in yours, a thumb runs against a finger in a soothing way. You both sink into each other. You both feel everything.

“You’re so soft.” Steve’s soft whisper against your neck vibrates against your skin. “So soft. You feel so good.”

Soft words are contrasted by rough thrusts of hips desperate to push your bodies to connect as deeply as possible. Mmm, so good. So fucking good, Stevie. Steve is gone. He can’t be reached now. He’s lost in the soft flesh of your body under him. He’s used to the sharp angles of Eddie. His mind is gone, his body is moving on its own. He can feel how close he is already, lost in your warmth.

It’s not a lightning crash. Not an earthquake. It’s soft, like every other moment between the two of you. Steve’s face in your neck, his hand gripping yours. He comes undone with your scent in his nose, and your taste on his lips. His hips slow, and you pull him tighter. You hold him close to your sweat slicked chest. You let him rest there, on your pillowy skin, bodies still joined.

That’s how you stay that night. Holding one another, leaving the mess you both made for the daylight hours. When you wake in the morning, you find that Steve’s hand is still holding yours.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #steddie x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

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deathmetalangel · 11 months

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hi if your taking requests I’d like to request a mid 90s forth-grade x fem skater reader. I could be whatever tbh but she’s like really soft and nice. Idk you could do what ever you think is best <33

IN CHAINS, ENTOMBED (FOURTH GRADE X FEM!READER)

warnings: stevie has mommy issues, mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking, sad stevie, nothing else really it’s mostly fluff

“from the day you arrived, i’ve remained, by your side, in chains, entombed”

ahhh i just really love fourth grade. i might’ve went overboard a slight bit.

Their friend group was strange, anyone could see that. They varied in ages, most being juniors and seniors with two exceptions. And they drastically varied in personalities. Ray was the oldest and looked out for his friends like siblings, they were all he had. Fuckshit was rowdy and always down for a party to distract himself and stay entertained. Fourth Grade was more aloof, the others called it stupid, but Y/n preferred observant.

Y/n herself was the sweetest person you’ll ever meet, a heart made of gold that shone brightly wherever she went. Ruben was almost condescending at times, he always felt the need to prove himself to Ray and Fuckshit. And Stevie, he spiraled down a dark path for a long time. Until now, he finally returned to the sweet boy they met at first. So eager and just happy to have friends.

They had their squabbles sure, but nothing they’d ever let separate them. The closest out of everyone was easily Y/n and Fourth Grade. She was a senior, about a year older than he was. Yet they’d known each other for years. She’d lived on the nicer side of town, but their dads had been really good friends. Both worked at the DMV, but it’s where their moms worked that changed their living situations. Mrs. L/n was, to be quite honest a spoilt brat of a woman. She was heinous and cruel. Only supported by her husband and her trust fund. Which she spent most of pretty quickly during her college years. But it still kept the family going strong.

Y/n had a surprisingly good work ethic. She didn’t work at Motor like Fuckshit and Ray, but she did work with her uncle at his mechanic shop. It helps to fund her “passion project”. Which is just an old 67’ Mustang Shelby.

Said girl currently sits on the couch in the back of the skate shop, her feet propped up on Fourth Grade’s lap with a book placed in hers. Her beanie is slightly slipping from her head, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “College applications are stupid. They’re all the counselors at school talk about now. I get that they’re important, but I don’t even know If I wanna go to college.” She sighs before shutting the textbook.

Fourth Grade turns to look at her, his usual far off look replaced. She always has his full attention. It doesn’t matter what she’s talking about. He’s gonna listen if she’s the one saying it. “I dunno. You’re smart. College might be good.” Ruben looks at them from the other couch. He was more interested in them than what Fuckshit was rambling about next to him. He liked the way Fourth Grade looked at her. It was, for lack of better words, full of devotion. He never sees that at home.

“Yeah, but where would I even go? All of these colleges are expensive and far away. I wouldn’t wanna leave you or the guys.” Mostly him. “I think I wanna be a mechanic. Sounds stupid huh?” She brushes off her own words.

Fourth Grade shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s stupid.” He mumbles off handedly. Like his words held no weight, what did they mean coming from someone as dumb as him? “I’ve seen your car, you’re good. You should do it.”

Yet his words meant the most to her. “You want to be a director right? You can go to college for that you know. A few colleges with fine arts programs reached out to me too. I think you’d do good.” He never really expected her to remember anything about what he wanted to do. Most of the guys assumed he just didn’t know or was too stupid to care. He pauses, they both think about the cost of it all. “I mean there’s scholarships and stuff. Next year I can help you look into it?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

She smiles at him, sweet and genuine. Ruben liked the way she looked at him too. There was no doubt with her, she loved him. Fourth Grade feels himself growing flustered. Y/n tended to do that to him. It was like he was in middle school all over again. She was the one who taught him how to skate. Y/n was so patient and understanding, she still is.

Everyone’s attention is caught by the bell to the front door. It chimes letting them know someone is walking in. The someone was Stevie, the only one missing from the current hang out besides Ray who was helping his mom. He’s a mamas boy, but y/n won’t tell anyone where he’s at. The guys tend to tease. Stevie walks in the shop clearly aggravated. She hadn’t seen him this agitated since last summer.

“Hey Fuckshit can you and Ruben go get some Arizonas and snacks? It’s on me just take this twenty. I don’t feel like going.” She holds out the cash she grabbed from her pocket.

Fuckshit looks up at her and takes the cash. “Hm yeah sure. Only cause you treating ma. I’ll get some different flavors n shit. Come on Ruben let’s bounce.” He clearly didn’t see her true intentions as he walks past Stevie on his way out. Y/n sits up straight as Stevie finally comes over to them on the couch.

“Hey Stevie you okay? It’s just us,” He knew what she meant. Just her and Fourth Grade so he could say whatever he wanted judgment free. He bites down on his lip to stop it from quivering. His nose twitches, she picks up on his tells. Y/n places a gentle hand on Stevie’s arm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just sit down, we can talk when you’re ready.”

Fourth Grade watches her tentatively. She was so gentle. Stevie sits down in between the teens before he places his head onto her lap. Y/n looks at Fourth Grade who was watching Stevie carefully. The boy had been through a lot in the time they were friends. He’d grown to care about him a lot. Y/n softly caresses the boys hair. Her best attempt at soothing him.

“My mom she just doesn’t get it anymore. She doesn’t get me anymore. She’s always with some guy, Ian says she used to be like that before I was born. But I thought she’d be better. She’s so preoccupied I never see her. And then she just bugs about stupid shit. I hate her sometimes.” He vents to the pair who don’t pity him, they are just there to console him.

Y/n sighs. “I get it. My moms flighty. Always in her own world. I’ve met your mom, and both times weren’t exactly pleasant or under great circumstances. But, I do think she cares. She loves you, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to feel this way. She isn’t right to put more focus on someone other than you especially when you’re so young. However, she is still entitled to a love life Stevie.” He liked talking to her. She never judged him. Or scolded him. Just let him talk, and would advise him as best she could.

Y/n looks at Fourth Grade, her eyes flicking down to Stevie as if to tell him to say something. He can get that hint at least. “It’s hard for a mom to have a son. My moms weird with me sometimes, it’s different than her having a girl. Ya know? She’s probably just nervous because you’re getting big and growing up.” She smiles at him, his thoughtful answer was more than adequate. He blushes at her smile. She always did encourage him to be smarter than everyone thought he was.

“You and y/n aren’t weird with me. So why is she?” Y/n blushes slightly at the implications of what he was saying. “Y/n you don’t ignore me for Fourth Grade. And you’ve been like in love forever. So why does she ignore me for those guys she’s known for a few months?” Both teens almost were too embarrassed to answer.

Y/n tries to recover as best she can. “We’re a lot closer in age to you than she is Stevie. We know what it’s like to be your age. She doesn’t remember it quite as well. And me and Fourth Grade, we’re not- um. New relationships take more work. There’s a lot more of getting to know each other Stevie. That’s probably why.” She can’t even make eye contact with Fourth Grade who kind of just sits there trying to figure out what she’s saying.

They weren’t dating, but why didn’t she finish her sentence. Was he reading too much into her words? “Can I stay at your house tonight? And maybe Fourth Grade stay over too?”

Y/n smiles softly. She could never say no to Stevie. She gently wipes away a few stray tears from the boys face before responding. “Of course you can stay with me. I’d rather you stay over than be god knows where. And you’d have to ask Fourth Grade if he wants to have a little sleepover.”

Stevie looks up towards Fourth Grade who’s caught slightly off guard. “Can you come too? I like when you’re hanging out with us.”

“Sure kid.” They were really the only ones who actually treated Stevie like a kid. He wasn’t Sunburn the cool skater, he was Stevie the twelve year old. They didn’t infantilize him or belittle him, he was still an equal. But they made sure to remember he was still growing up. He didn’t have to be cool and drink or smoke. He was dorky and that was fine.

Stevie smiles before laying down on Y/n’s lap again. Her fingers gently play with his hair as he starts to fall asleep. Y/n hums a soft lullaby as he does. “He’s a good kid. It’s funny you act more like a mom than a friend to him sometimes.” Fourth Grade whispers while he watches the boy nap.

“I guess it’s just my big sister instincts. And what about you? I swear sometimes he comes to you with his problems more than me or Ray. Fourth Grade I like this girl what do I do? Fourth Grade I need help with a video project for school. Fourth Grade I’m mad at my friend again.” She laughs softly before looking back down at Stevie.

Fourth Grade laughs as well. He did often get tasked with helping Stevie, it was mostly with stuff he didn’t want to ask Y/n about. He cared a lot about what she thought of him. “He’s a bit confused, but he’s only got his mom and his brother. And his brother doesn’t seem like the brotherly type. We’re really the closest he’s got to older siblings. And only three of us are decent influences.” Fuckshit and Ruben were most definitely not good influences. In fact Y/n almost has a heart attack when she finds out Stevie is hanging out with only them.

“You parent him a lot Y/n. And you always manage to get me roped into it.” Fourth Grade chuckles softly. “No wonder he thinks we’re dating.” He mumbles the end. Afraid of the weight of his words.

Y/n pauses. “I mean, we do kind of act coupley. I wouldn’t be surprised if more people thought we were dating. I don’t really care. I’m comfortable around you.” This was her way of putting the ball in his court. Fourth Grade pauses. He looks at her and just thinks. Jesus she had him whipped. Ever since he met her he’s been following her around like a puppy.

Yet, he really didn’t want it any other way. He liked being around her. Y/n was kind, but not ignorant in the slightest. She was intelligent and so fucking sweet. He fell more in love with her little by little, he was entombed by her very being. “You scare off any girls I might get, you know that right?”

She giggles. He wasn’t serious, but he wasn’t lying either. “Like you don’t scare off guys. ‘Don’t talk to her she’s with that tall lanky guy’. I hear pretty well you know.” Fourth Grade smiles.

“I mean if we’re ruining each others chances of ever dating someone, why don’t we just actually date?” Her eyes widen. She hadn’t actually expected him to be so up front. Fourth Grade never said anything this forward. He usually stuttered and rethought his words mid sentence.

She looks into his eyes. She could tell he was being genuine, perhaps that was what compelled his bluntness. “Are you asking me out Fourth Grade?”

He scratches the back of his neck almost awkwardly. “Uh-yeah. I mean. If you wanna.” And there was the Fourth Grade she knew. Y/n smiles before gently kissing his cheek.

“I’d love to.” She smiles before placing her head on his shoulder. Leaning onto him while Stevie napped comfortably in her lap. “I love you, you know. I have since we were kids.”

His face was almost bright red. Fourth Grade swallows hard. “Y-yeah? If I’m being honest you’ve had me since we met. Especially after you taught me to Ollie.”

She smiles at the memory. “I don’t think Fuckshit is coming back with my money.”

Fourth Grade wants to laugh, he quiets himself into a soft chuckle. “Yeah. I don’t think so either. It’s okay though. We can just relax. Just us.”

Y/n mumbles something before slowly dozing off with her head still resting on his shoulder. Fourth Grade looks down at her, still in awe of the girl before him. He’d do anything for her. And he knew she’d do the same. That’s just how she was, the kind of person she was. The person he was so irreparably in love with. And by her side he’d remain.

#deathmetalangel #fourth grade x reader #mid 90s #mid90s x reader #mid90s imagine #mid90s fourth grade #fourth grade mid90s #mid90s fourth grade x reader #mid90s fluff #fourth grade x female reader

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charliesgoodboy · 6 months

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hey idk if you reqests are open but i saw that you might of wanted to write for the mid 90's if you are could you do it when were kinda in stevies place you kinda innocent but not really ykyk

thanks hope you have a great day/night

1996. MID 90'S💿

it's useless.

i tried,

but to no avail.

to tell you.

how much i know,

how much i care.

song: . . .ılı YOUNGEST DAUGHTER superheaven

TW: male leaning reader(fem welcome), abuse mentions(since reader is somewhat in the position of stevie), reader is a little older than original stevie(about 15-16 instead of thirteen) but can be imagined to simply look up to fuckshit and ray, reader is hinted to have feelings for fuckshit and/or ray but of course it's the mid 90's, ruben's an asshole, 4th grade is a sweetheart bro, yes there is an edit link on 'mid 90's', last few sentences are just fuckshit and ray

ray who would notice you first walking into the store, your mood was sour and the left side of your chest burned and ached due to the harsh feeling of being thrown against the hard turquoise green wall, to only be thrown back onto the floor with countless punches being throw on you. he's see you but only talk to you really the moment you'd come back after filling up the water jug which originally looked to be used for milk. "what's a kid like you doin' out here." "i'm no older than you." "for real? shit, you look twelve." you'd take that as a compliment in a way, laughing it off along with him as he chugged the gallon a bit of the water rolling down his chin. you liked him, he was comforting to be around.

fuckshit who would laugh at the first words he even heard you utter. the joke was dumb, but it worked out for him put another smile on his face his usual words, "fuck shit, that was dope. this nigga kinda funny i liked that." the sound of your newly made nickname would slur out dramatically as he spoke to you, made you feel special like you were really apart of the group already. the sun would shine warmly onto your skin as fuckshit would only keep up with you in the back, nodding his head as you were slowly getting the hang of your board. "there you go! just like that, push your body weight a little more."

4th grade who would get a moment with you in the shop a lone as he tampered with a few settings on his camera letting you watch. a few small questions turned into a full conversation mostly half of the reasons why you'd even become friends with them in the first place. "ya'll looked cool, i wanted to fit in and be like the rest of you." "but what if we weren't. you know, 'cool.'" "i'd still want friends regardless fourth grade." he truly felt you on that one. feeling left out and alone and seeing a group of kids or a kid that gives you an ache, 'i have to get them to notice me.' those few thoughts running through your mind. just wanting to feel like someone for the one time.

ruben who would grow to dislike you. giving small 'fuck you's' that would sound like jokes at first but each time you spoke to him the conversations would get smaller and less interesting. he didn't like the way ray would come and sit next to you on the floor and his arm would stay on your shoulders being humorous with the others. that stupid look in your eyes as you watched him speak, the smile you had slowly fading as you slowly really started to admire him and take in all his details and habits, he could simply tell and that shit would piss him off enough to leave. but not home. "uh— ruben? where you goin'?" "fuck off ray." it only felt as if they'd talk when he was getting ready to leave.

ray who would really talk to you as you'd go over to some party. he would cheer you on as some girl would drag you to a room but some feeling would bubble up giving his face a frown the moment he realized it. he didn't like you were going in there with her, it felt weird as if you was 'growing up too fast' though he only just met you but that wasn't even the only feeling. he'd root for you the second time meeting you back outside. you were fucked up and high on some shit but that smile on your face didn't go unnoticed the hat you wore falling off your head mid-step. he wasn't all for partying, and meth, and smoking, and drinking all of that shit but you? you needed to get home you looked on your last breath.

fuckshit who would drive you home just to get a frantic knock on his own few hours after, your body crashing into his almost like a hug but your breathing was quick sounding like you really ran your ass over here. "woah, shit what you doin' over here? it's late as shit you should be home." "please, i don't wanna go home.." the sobs you let out made him give in but he'd keep you at his doorstep for a while, the both of his arms coming the wrap around you only one of them atop your head which would be giving his best to give you more comfort. he could barely look at the bruises on your arms which he was sure you had more, your brother chased you around the damn house. he bit the skin off his lip seeing the lines on your neck not mentioning much, he knew what you tried to do. "come on, let's get to bed man."

#mid 90s #mid90s x reader #mid 90s x reader #mid90s x male reader #mid 90s x male reader #ray x male reader #ray x reader #fuckshit x reader #fuckshit x male reader #fuck shit x reader #fuck shit x male reader #ray mid90s #fuckshit mid90s #angst #male reader angst

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fancylala4 · 5 days

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I saw some of you anti Ts posts they are funny and I need to Rant. sorry.

I am so FUCKING sick and TIRED of being relatable being cool! Fuck! If I wanna listen to someone they need to sound good! Way better than ME! Why is being average so overhyped! Bring back actual talent! Bring back people who can sing! Really sing. I want to be awestruck. I want to me in mesmerized. For fuckss sake Taylor Swift is only that popular because she is average and these swifties identify with her.

And fucking hell I AM SO TIRED of this bitch! I am so tired that they act like only her achievements count and as if achievements of other artists don't fucking count!

The Weeknd has a song with 4Billion streams on Spotify.

Drake has one song with 3 Billion and one with 2 Billion

Post Malone has one with 3 Billion and two with 2 Billion

Dua Lipa has four with 2 Billion

Justin Bieber has 3 with 2 Billion and 1 with 3 Billion

Coldplay has 3 with 2 Billion

Bruno Mars has 3 songs with 2 Billion

Ed Sheeran has 3 songs with 2 Billion and 1 song with 3 Billion

Taylor fucking Swift just recently as one song with 2 Billion streams! ONE! if she is so big? Why doesn't she have more? I can answer you this. Because her stupid fans only care about first week streams. They care about getting her on the chart. That is what spotify and billboard pushes. These morons will mass play her music all night so it get streams. It's so embarrassing.

If she didn't release shit constantly and her stans weren't some pathetic losers wanting her to chart so she just charts there is no WAY in fucking hell she could compete with todays artists.

Fucking hell and they compare her to Michael Jackson! Taylor Swift does not have the LONGEVITY. SHE DOES NOT. Not Mariah Careys, Britney Spears, Elton John or the Beatles. There's more but here's a few.

Michael Jackson had a top ten hit in 5 DIFFERENT DECADES. ( 6 if you count the Jackson 5) And probably will have another one after the biopic comes out!

If Taylor Swift would do this she would have to be able to have a TOP TEN HIT in 2030 and 2040. There is no way she would be doing this.

Mariah Carey in 4 DECADES SINCE THE 90'S!

Britney Spears the same as Mariah!

Elton John in four from the 70's- 20's missing the 00's and 10's.

The Beatles in the 60's 70's 90's and 20's.

Like i hate it so much how much this woman is pushed! And swifties gon act like as if she is the only artist being this succesful! SHE IS NOT! It's more impressive that Rihanna still gets high streams beside not releasing anything for YEARS! BTCH i wanna see Taylor Swift not releasing anything for 7 Years and see where she's at. Let's find out. But this woman is to coward to ever do that. She is so damn desperate for validation it's embarrassing.

HOW THE FUCK IS SHE NOT EMBARRASSED WINNING ALL THESE AWARDS OVER PEOPLE WHO ARE 10 TIMES MORE TALENTED THAN HER?!

This btch is absolutely not humble because i would be embarrassed. Literally. It's like how can you shit as tour gain so much money when you know you can't dance and are a mid singer.

And these faces of acting shocked when she wins an award! With that open mouth and GOD! Yes we get it you won again "suprisingly."

How the fuck does she have more AOTYs than any other fucking artist ever? How the fuck does this mediocre ass woman have more than Janet, Michael Jackson, Amy Winehouse, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, Stevie Wonder.

And don't let me start on her victim card that she has used has her brand since fucking Kanye West had to go up on stage and embarrass her. He literally started this whole shit. You can never criticise her for anything. Because if you do you are a misogynist who just hates succesful women. She's always the fuckin victim and swifties romanticize it so much! They want her to be this struggling underdog who rose to fame cause that is what fits their damn wattpad story!

Taylor Swift wants to be the Man. She wouldn't be as succeaful if she was a man. Point blank period. Her shield to protect her self from any criticism wouldn't work. The only thing she has to be oppressed about is being a woman thats why her and swifties milk it so fuccking hard!!!

Thanks, and it’s ok. This whole blog is just a bunch of rants anyways.

But everything you said was true. I didn’t know she of all people have more aoty awards than those you mentioned. This just proves that the Grammys are a joke.

#asks #anon #anti taylor swift

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3rdmeasurement · 2 months

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Heeeyyyy, I'm so so intrigued by your hockey posting. I'd love to know more about Fedorov, like what's the lore, what makes him special? Have a nice day/ night <333

good morning/afternoon/evening anon! since you asked so nicely i'll try my best but i do tend to forget everything i know when i have to actually explain it. there is a lot of lore tho so i'm not gonna go over all of it (mainly the bits that interest me the most + some other stuff). i guess what really makes him special (at least to me) is the fact that we don't get players like this anymore. and i'm not talking playing style here (the impact of euro hockey players of the 90s on the nhl today is still so obviously there). a lot of his early career was directly impacted by cold war politics, and since those circumstances haven't existed for a while now, we don't get this insane type of backstories and lore anymore. i should also make it clear that i'm a massive nerd who sat in classrooms for years learning abt soviet stuff which i think definitely has an impact on who My Guys are

seriously there is a lot under the cut so be warned because i did get carried away with myself A Lot (i literally wrote over 1k words on this. sorry in advance)

ok so. sergei started playing "pro" hockey in the soviet union in the mid 80s (i don't think this is the place to explain whether these players were pro or amateur so will leave it like that), first in minsk (only for a year) before being picked up by cska moscow- the central army team. these guys made up most of the national team, which can probably be explained by the fact that their head coach also coached the national team (god that's a bit of a mouthful, but incredibly relevant). he wasn't the only rookie on the team that season; another kid (i think they were both like 16 at the time ?) called alex mogilny had also just arrived in moscow. they would become good friends. sergei would play three seasons for cska before being called up for the national team- he was going to the 1989 world championship. alex would be there, too, having already played on the team before. naturally, the ussr won gold (as they did almost every year). but that doesn't mean everything was good with the players. not long too after the tournament, some of the older players would finally get permission to play in the nhl, but for the younger guys it was looking like they had no way of getting out any time soon. in the days between the end of the championship and the soviet team's flight home, mogilny apparently approached fedorov and asked him to go to america with him- sergei said no, worried about what would happen to his family. alex would go anyway, disappearing for a few days before popping up in buffalo ready to join the sabres. (this might seem irrelevant right now but it's actually really not- i'm getting there now)

that same summer, sergei would be drafted in the fourth round by detroit. this choice may or may not have been influenced by steve yzerman telling them sergei was better than him. after a bit of back and forth, they got him to defect after cska played a series of games in north america. it literally sounds like the type of shit they write in spy films it was fucking mental. this made him only the second soviet to defect in order to play in the nhl i'm pretty sure (defo the second in like 18 months- funnily enough it was his bestie who was the first one. what a coincidence), but they weren't the first two from the other side of the iron curtain to do that. might be wrong but i think that honour goes to the stastny brothers. anyway. when sergei got to detroit he wore 91 because he wanted to "be like stevie" or some insane shit like that. which i literally think about all the time. like seriously what was that about sergei.

okok can't not talk about the russian five so doing that now. since idk how much you know about hockey i'll do a better job on this bit. after sergei arrived in detroit, management must've figured they could get more russians. over the next couple of years they got vladimir konstantinov (who was drafted the same year as sergei) and slava kozlov to make the jump to the states. since i'm mainly talking about sergei i won't go into how they got those two but it's just as unbelievable as you'd expect. after the 1994-95 lockout, the wings traded for another russian- slava fetisov. if you ever want to learn about soviet hockey you'll hear a lot about this guy, and for good reason too. he won two olympic gold medals and seven world championships with the soviet union, and captained most of those teams. obviously adding a guy with that much experience winning was a smart choice imo, even if he hadn't won anything in the nhl yet. by now the wings had four russian players- why not add a fifth ? in 1994 the wings were embarrassed in the playoffs, losing to san jose. it just happened that sj happened to have two of the older soviets who had fought for the right to play in north america. one of them was igor larionov- probably the smartest guy to ever play hockey. it was his tactics (and refusal to change his style of play) that led to his team's success in the first round. and i guess detroit didn't ever want to deal with that again because they ended up trading for the guy in the first part of the 1995-96 season. the russian five first played together in calgary, where they played that style of soviet hockey that nhlers could never really wrap their heads around at the time. they walked all over the flames in their own building, and would continue to do the same to the rest of the league. the five would be a key part of the 1997 stanley cup-winning team, which was the first wings team to lift the cup in over forty years.

sergei stayed to win a few more cups, and then left the city. he signed w the ducks in anaheim, bleached his hair and moved out to california (i think we can all resonate with wanting to change our appearance and move thousands of miles away from where we've spent over a decade building out lives amiright). from what i can tell, this move was Not Liked by detroit's owners (honestly i can't see any other reason his number hasn't been retired there). he'd bounce around a couple more nhl teams before going back to russia to play on the same team as his brother, eventually retiring in 2012.

jumping to 2015, that year's hockey hall of fame inductees included sergei (and nick lidstrom, one of his detroit teammates and one of the best defencemen to every play the game). it was basically a 90s wings reunion. in sergei's induction speech, he did like everyone else and thanked a bunch of people who helped him out throughout his career. and, you know, it was all the expected stuff (hockey guys can be so predictable sometimes), but "to my captain, steve yzerman" still fucking gets me. it had been twelve years since he'd worn a wings jersey. my captain. i think you get my point but i'm gonna have to stop there because i can't carry on and be remotely normal about it.

oh and in 2021, after spending a few years bouncing around random jobs for the team, cska announced that fedorov would be taking over as head coach. he went back to the team where all this started. now i don't know how exactly he is with his team but i sure hope he learned enough from his days there as a player under tikhonov on exactly how not to treat your players. cska won back to back gagarin cups (the trophy awarded to the khl team who wins the playoffs) in sergei'd first two seasons behind the bench, and they're probably looking to make it a threepeat with the playoffs starting today (?)

#ok so i did start this last night but it got a bit messy because i was so tired so had to redo it this morning. sorry it took so long #but when i say there's so much lore. i mean there is So Much Lore #tl;dr to me what makes him Special is his early days in the soviet union/his defection and his role in the russian five (and by extension #the championship teams in detroit in the late 90s)#oh and @ my wings mutuals if i got anything wrong help me out i did this all off the top of my head and don't have the time to fact check #everything

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formosusiniquis · 1 year

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Hello your friendly neighborhood children’s librarian bringing you the most retired rockstar/dad!Eddie book ever. All images are from My Dad Used to Be So Cool by Keith Negley (which you should check out if you can get your hands on a copy from your library, there are some great illustrations that I didn’t include.)

Anyway post Vecna Eddie and Corroded Coffin get semi-big. Nothing wild, they aren’t the next Metallica but they do well enough to go on a Nationwide (plus Canada) tour, they put out a couple of albums, get some radio play. They aren’t a household name, but they’re beloved by the people in the scene and in the know. It’s a good life, more than a young Eddie could have ever hoped for. It’s the mid-90s and their initial contract is coming to a close, Eddie and the guys have a decision to make: are they going to resign and try to make it even bigger or are they going to finish out their run, do a couple of farewell shows and quietly retire.

Eddie and Steve have been a thing since the first Corroded Coffin EP dropped. Eddie’s heart is in his lyrics and Steve has been their biggest fan since Eddie left Hawkins to make it big. Long distance has been hard. So hard. But Eddie comes home to a tiny apartment in Indianapolis that Steve and Robin share every chance he can. He’s written every album since the first one at the battered wooden kitchen table that Robin saved from the curb. Steve goes to the shows that he can and Eddie comes back to Indianapolis every chance he gets, but as Steve starts his social work job it becomes a lot harder to go to shows more than a couple hours away.

There’s a decision to make. Eddie and the band are in Chicago meeting with their agent for what might be the last time when he gets a page from Steve: SOS. Eddie is panicked when he gets to the phone, calling Steve’s work phone like he was told and expecting the worst. The Upside Down is back, Robin has been hurt, Dustin has been hurt, Steve has been hurt. It’s worse, when Steve answers with a calm, “Steve Harrington speaking.”

“Don’t ‘Steve Harrington speaking’ me, what the hell!”

“Eddie! I’ve got the best news.”

Now he’s got two decisions to make. A coworker of Steve’s has a baby that needs a home, five months old with a dead mom and a deadbeat dad and the story is a little too familiar for Eddie who knows how important stability is for a kid. “Her name is Christina, Eddie, I think it’s meant to be.”

Eddie has become a big believer in fate. He’s got two decisions to make today, they might be the easiest decisions that he’s ever made.

Eight years fly by. Eddie had squirreled away most of his Corroded Coffin money and with Steve’s salary he’s able to stay home with Chris most of the time. He’s mellowed out over the years, Wayne had warned him when they first brought Christina back to the little two bedroom they purchased that fatherhood changed you and he could see it now. His hair is shorter, his sweetheart spends more time hanging on the wall than it does in his hands, he has become a lot more acquainted with the vacuum cleaner then he had in his wild youth.

It’s a Saturday and Stevie has gotten called in to handle an emergency placement leaving Chris and him to have a daddy/daughter day. Chris giggles the way kids do when Steve leaves with a kiss to her forehead and eliciting a promise that she'll keep dad out of trouble. One part pleased at the responsibility, one part disbelief that dad could be cool enough to be trouble at all.

"Alright my knight errant, you've accepted your quest from King Daddy. Now you've got to help me clean the house if you're going to keep me out of trouble."

"Will I get a reward? I think this quest is worth a bajillion gold."

She squeals and giggles, a sound that could break him from Vecna's curse, as Eddie picks her up from her chair at the table and spins her round and round. "I think you should stop listening to Uncle Dustin. How about we go to the park, is that a fitting reward?"

“Those terms are acceptable.”

“And less time with Auntie Erica, jeebus kiddo.”

Christine Harrington-Munson knows that cleaning the house is really code for making sure all her toys are picked up off the floor so Dad can clean the floors. Which they are, she’s a lot more like Daddy in that respect. She likes to have her dolls and ponies lined up in rows where she can see them when they aren’t having adventures; her jewelry from her Aunts is in the jewelry box that they gave her. So she follows Dad around the house while he cleans up his mess. Shoes kicked into the closet with the drumset, little statues from his game he plays with her uncles go back into his office. The one with the posters on the walls that Daddy made Dad frame, that have Dad’s face on him from when he was young before she was born. He’s all screamy and sweaty and he’s got eyeliner on like Aunt Robin wears. She’s pretty sure Dad used to be in a band.

Her friends from school say she’s lucky cause she got a cool dad when she got adopted. She knows which dad they’re talking about; Daddy works more than Dad does, has to help other kids who are waiting to get adopted or who can’t live with their grownups anymore, so Dad is the one who usually picks her up from school when he gets done doing the mid-morning radio show.

She doesn’t really get it.

Dad is kinda lame. He’s cooler than Katie’s dad who always snores on the couch whenever she’s over. He’s definitely cooler than Mikey’s mom who always makes faces when Dad picks her up from school in short sleeves. He’s a billion, million times cooler than Shelby’s dad who said something to Daddy the one time they had a sleepover and now Shelby’s parents are getting divorced. But saying Dad is cooler than them is like saying that Barbie is cooler than Skipper, he always sings his dad music when they’re cleaning the house together and he does silly voices when they’re talking together.

So maybe he used to be cool a hundred years ago when he was the guy in those posters, but now he’s just Dad. Something must have happened ‘cause Uncle Lucas is still really cool and so are Aunt Max and Aunt Robin.

Cleaning the house with Dad always goes a lot faster than it does with Daddy. Once the floors have been vacuumed and the counters are cleared they’re in the van headed to their favorite park.

The other moms and dads hang out by the benches watching their kids run around. Dad reaches the edge where the grass stops and the mulch starts and pauses, he bends down into a bow. “As promised my faithful knight, your reward. We’ve got an hour here before we go see if Daddy can take a break for lunch.”

“Can I give you a quest? Can we find a dragon before we go to Daddy?”

“A noble quest, my lady.” He uses one of his silly voices, one that sounds like a fancy grandpa. She knows he always tries to wrestle with her when he uses that voice, but even then he gets an arm wrapped around her before she can run across the yard. He swings her around and tosses her, “a head start on our quest, m’lady.” She lands with the bent knees and forward roll that Aunt Max taught her.

Dad chases her around the park for the full hour, letting her lead them through bushes and into the playground tunnels. He points out tracks that might belong to their dragon, says he’ll be her wizard if she carries the sword, Dad finds a stick and presents it to her like it’s a weapon. He sweeps her up when it’s time for lunch, “Noble knight, we must not get lost on our quest for the dragon. We must obtain sustenance and we can return later with aid from our King.”

She rides back to the car on his shoulders, times like these she can almost see what her friends mean when they say that he’s cool. “Dad, can we get a dog?”

The music in the car is quiet, but the guitar is sharp and bright. He bobs his head up and down in time with it, catching her eyes in the rear view mirror as he does, “I think that’s a talk Daddy needs to be part of too, Chris. Give him those sad eyes and I bet he says yes.” He turns the radio up a little more, one of those softer songs that he spins Daddy around the kitchen to is on, “We can bring it up at lunch if you want, ladybug, but you gotta take care of it if he says yes. A dog is a big responsibility.”

Yeah, no, she still doesn’t get why anyone would think that her Dad was cool.

#steddie fic #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #dad eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #steve harrington #social worker steve harrington #i saw the cover for this book at work and the brain rot hit so hard #and i was immediately right #anyway pick it up if you can there are some really cute equally eddie coded pictures #alternatively they could be punk steve #either way the book is about a little boy but steddie are absolutely girl dads so

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fairyysoup · 1 year

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The sleazy talkshow host!Steve is so interesting but also nooooo the Hawkins gang D:

i know :(( Robin definitely takes it harder than the rest of the group bc she continues trying to contact him well after he took off, but he eventually can't be reached.

but I like to imagine that in this au corroded coffin does become a big name rock band in the mid-90s, so i'm imagining Eddie showing up for rehearsal for their guest musician appearance on Steve's show and just. fuckin decking the shit out of Steve at first glance. just knuckles straight to the chin. "That was for Robin you piece of shit!"

steve doesn't say anything bc underneath it all he's still our stevie :'((( he just forgot is all

#oof also if he knew corroded coffin was gonna be on the show and he was prepared for it #ugh ouch #the angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #talkshow host!steve #rockstar!eddie #steve thoughts #eddie thoughts #asks #anon

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 1 year

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what are your favorite songs? do you have a playlist?

Okay, this is a long list so I'll just write a short answer: I have a pretty standard music taste:

Dylan [various albums from the 50s to 70s, especially "Blonde on Blonde" and "Time Out of Mind"], although I only know him from hearing my parents play him in the car

Elvis [various albums from the 50s to 70s, especially "In the Month of June"]

Led Zeppelin [various albums from the 1970s to the early 80s, including most of their classic, non-trony period stuff like "The Song Remains the Same"]

Various prog rock bands like Genesis [various albums from the mid-to-late 70s]

Van der Graaf Generator [various albums from the mid-to-late 70s]. Their stuff tends to be very repetitive, but they're very memorable and I like the weirdness

King Crimson [various albums over the course of several decades], my favorite is "Larks Tongues in Aspic"

Various prog rock bands over the years, especially Yes and Emerson, Lake and Palmer [various albums over the decades, especially "Discovery" and "Brain Salad Surgery" from the 70s and 80s respectively]

Elton John [solo albums from the 60s to the 90s, particularly "Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy" and "Sacred Ground" from the 70s]

Various artists [various albums from the 1980s to the present, particularly "The Hissing of Summer Lawns" from 1989 and "The Unseen Power of Love" from 1990]

Pink Floyd [various albums from the 60s to the 90s, particularly "The Wall" and the more "progressive" albums from the 70s to the 80s]

King Crimson [various albums from the 90s to present]

Various other (non-superstar) rock groups [some old stuff from the 50s, some more modern stuff from the present]

There are a bunch of others that I like that aren't on here either because they are obscure enough to be forgettable or because I haven't given them enough attention to remember what they sound like. And a few others I just like the music of, even if I don't particularly care about the band.

Some songs to listen to:

"You've Come a Long Way, Baby" by Elvis, a song of a certain sort that I don't usually like, but it's a good song anyway, and the line "I don't care to listen to what you've got to say / I'll leave and never look back" just sticks with me (a lot)

"Sitting on a Cornflake" by Pink Floyd

"Sunshine of Your Love" by the Beach Boys

"In the Air Tonight" by Phil Collins

"In the Still of the Night" by Phil Collins

"Toto's Africa" by Toto

"There Is An Air (Above Our Heads)" by King Crimson

"The Ledge" by King Crimson

"Killing An Arab" by Status Quo

"Black Magic Woman" by Stevie Wonder

"Burn" by U2 (okay, maybe it's just that I associate it with an intense emotion)

"The Preacher" by Black Sabbath

I think it's interesting that a lot of people who aren't particularly interested in rock music would have this long list of "bands you listen to" they keep bringing up. In part I think this is just a reflection of how I am: I listen to many bands, but usually not many of the same ones several times in a row, and so not many bands in my library would appear on someone else's list of their favorite. But in part it is probably a reflection of how we tend to construct lists of favorite music in general. There is such a thing as an "idol band" — a very popular band that many people who are into music listen to. This is one of the few places you don't often find people giving you lists of favorite songs by an "idol" band, because most people don't care about music that much, and just don't give it a lot of thought. If you find a band that has a wide fan base, you will probably find them at various points in your entire music library, but if you have a large music library (most people do) there are lots of bands you listen to that aren't especially well known outside of the specific subculture of people who really love that particular band. And it's this sort of music that is least likely to have its songs pop up in your list of favorite songs — unless you specifically list a band you like, or even only

#my inexplicable obsessions #rainbowvariant

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dhampiravidi · 2 months

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clothing aesthetic keywords

Jayn: Balmain runway 2024, Ralph Lauren runway 2024, chic business outfit, urban chic

Jasmine: 90s aesthetic outfits, casual outfits for college, casual clubbing outfits (specifically for her TMI/TSC verse)

Naela: Armani runway 2024, balletcore outfits

Achilles: Hermès runway 2024, sundresses, bralette outfits

Aurelia: Stevie Nicks outfits 70s, outfits with headscarves

Hestia: Ralph Lauren runway 2024, athleisure

Renée: Gucci runway 2024, grunge outfits, egirl aesthetic outfits, techpunk outfits, baddie outfits

Fantomex: YSL runway 2024, style a white button-down men

Mu Lan: tomboy aesthetic, casual shirtdress outfit

Shayera: backless tops, cute hiking outfits

Zehara: outfit with mid-calf boots, fingerless gloves outfit ideas

Skadi: bare midriff casual outfit, winter druid

Oraia: Zara runway 2024, Zuhair Murad (luxury)

Eugenia: boho outfits, athleisure outfits, cardigans

Rose: romantic academia, modern rockabilly

Rela: chic prep clothing, light academia outfits

Rhea: VSCO aesthetic outfits, skater aesthetic outfit

#admin #my ocs #aesthetic #clothing aesthetic #clothing brand #fashion #fashion brands

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eddywoww · 11 months

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I'm gonna draw the lesbians. Lil question tho, what does the little black dress Stevie wear look like? I am picturing spaghetti strap about mid thigh?

Just about! Like maybe a sort of 90s looking black dress? ☺️☺️ but yes short and spaghetti strap and mid thigh!!

#asks #also thank you 💕

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dollarbin · 4 months

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Dollar Bin #29:

Stevie Nick's Bella Donna

Stevie Nicks got zero favors from the patriarchal press or culture in the late 80's and early 90's. Much like Yoko Ono, she was the butt of sexist jokes and unfair critique that their male peers were never subjected to.

Let's compare Nicks and Stephen Tyler: both came of age in the mid-seventies; both fronted huge rock bands and both almost always appeared on stage without an instrument (even though they were hugely successful songwriters); both had major drug problems and overcame them; both were good looking young people who, unlike me, aged (seriously, people speak of me, always in hushed tones: how does he stay so young, they ask. Who else carries their paunch and bald spot with such panache?). Both had a thing for waiving silks around on stage. We could go on all day...

But did they get equal treatment? Hell no. Tyler was a hero for surviving drugs; I grew up cackling about the legendary destruction of Nick's nose from coke. Tyler became even more of a sex symbol as he aged and he dominated MTV in the late 80s and early 90s; Nicks, like Linda Ronstadt, was judged by one and all the moment she no longer looked 22, and Nicks couldn't get on MTV after 86 until Beyonce borrowed her iconic riff from Edge of Seventeen and insisted she show up to take credit:

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(That's Nicks with the guitar in the opening moments of this ridiculous and joyful video, showing us that, of course, she can play instruments: how else could she have written a few of the most popular songs of all time?)

But let's stop comparing Nicks and Tyler and never bring up Aerosmith in this blog again: after all, Nicks is a transcendent song writer and singer while Stephen Tyler occupies the rarrified air of pure suckiness inhabited by all famous rock stars named Stephen.

And that brings us to Nicks's debut solo album, Bella Donna. First off, good luck finding this record in a dollar bin: much like her friend Tom Petty, Nicks is rightfully revered by her fans, many of whom were not around to buy her first records when they came out. Plus, my almost famous niece tells me that some dude drank some juice while on a skateboard a few years back with Nicks's Dreams as the soundtrack and, in doing so, destroyed the internet. That previous sentence tells me the internet and people are dumb. Don't go and google the guy on the skateboard; rather check out my niece!

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Sweet song huh? Why isn't it destroying the internet instead?

Anyway, apparently the guy on the skateboard, and junk like that, are why busted up copies of Rumors went from dollar bin cloggers to $25 a pop in the last few years. I hope Stevie enjoyed and benefited from the slight renaissance of interest in her work; and, if you don't already own a copy of Bella Donna, know that some teenager without a working record player probably beat you to it.

Which is all a bummer, because Bella Donna deserves your full respect and attention. It's a great, and I think still largely overlooked, testament to her singing, songwriting and entire vibe.

The record opens with the title track, a complex and extended slow piece of soulful searching which summons up the opening gesture pioneered by The Band a decade earlier with Tears of Rage. Nicks is famous for her pop singles, but that genre is really the business of her bandmate Christie McVie; Nicks is a composer of songs, not hits.

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You can also hear right off the bat in Bella Donna that Nicks has assembled the right band. Imagine being in position to borrow Benmont Tench from the Heartbreakers, Roy Bittan from Bruuuuce and Waddy Watchel from Linda Ronstadt and Warren Zevon. Tench had no real business joining in - TP and the Heartbreakers were at the height of their fame and were touring nonstop - but he somehow found the time to step right in and lead the whole band. The other two dudes were conveniently available, at least for the moment. Bruuuuuuce was forever firing the E Street Band and was gearing up to make Nebraska on his own, and Linda was starting to move away from pop music for the first of many times; soon she'd be singing light opera with a young Kevin Kline.

Bella Donna is held together, however, not by the men but by the women. Nicks created the whole record through 2+ years of work with Sharon Celani and her soon-to-be sister-in-law Lori Perry. Every song features all three of them shimmering and gliding about one another and Nicks has been singing with the two women - and putting their photos alongside her on her records - ever since. Here's the way Nicks described their work and relationship to "The Last DJ" himself, Jim Ladd, a guy I listened to a lot as a kid:

Sharon [Celani] and Lori [Perry-Nicks] and I have a special thing that we have ~ that we have perfected ~- and we have perfected it by sitting around the piano... I'm not going to go sing on-stage alone. I don't want to. I want to be able to walk away and let them take it. Because I ~ there is nothing in the world that I would rather hear than beautiful singing. And so I have worked to get a sound that is not like anybody else. That is really beautiful, that is strong and that is like dedicated and devoted.

Jim Ladd just passed away; I hope he had Petty's mediocre album about him playing at full blast as he faded. As an LA kid I tuned into Ladd every night in late middle school and early high school, beginning to give up on him only when I decided that Roger Waters, Jim's favorite artist by far, was the problem with all things Pink Floyd from Animals onward. I had a few pretty sharp ideas as a kid!

I remember vividly the very last time I listened to Ladd: I was at the mall for some reason, in the parking lot, and Ladd had his hands on an advanced copy of U2's Zooropa. Ladd played us all Daddy's Gonna Pay for Your Crashed Car, a song which he'd chosen by himself at random - the album was so new he hadn't had time to listen to it yet. Ladd thought the dull and overblown track was a triumph; he'd lose his head on occasion. I disagreed. And so we parted ways. Rest in peace Jim. But I digress!

Every song on Bella Donna shows careful polish and intention. A few tracks, like the instantly hummable, McVie inspired Think About It and the Waylon Jennings inspired Leather and Lace, are tracks Nicks had held onto all through Fleetwood's golden era; this was a record she'd built up to over years.

Indeed, Nicks could have easily turned Bella Donna into a defiant double album, an All-Things-Must-Pass-level declaration that the Mac held her back. Bella Donna contains zero filler and several of the songs left off the record are a big deal. Just take a listen to Gold and Braid, an outtake that other artists would have released as the first single; there's a studio take but it's a bit rough. Listen instead to the pulsating, hip swinging live greatness from the brief tour that followed the record:

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Jimmie Iovine, Nicks' producer and partner at the time, made a few key contributions to the record. And he seems to have gotten in the way a bit.

Yes, he connected Nicks to Tom Petty and hand delivered the album's substitute single in place of Gold and Braid, Petty's Stop Dragging My Heart Around. The song is great, sure, but it's the only song Nicks didn't write on the record and it stands apart sonically from everything else, all of which led to the troubling myth about Nicks from her Fleetwood work - that she was best as a karaoke/girl singer, good at showing up for nothing but the vocal polish long after the male musicians had done writing, playing and heavy lifting - following her into the birth of her solo career. The truth is far different: Nicks conceived all of Bella Donna on her own. Everything, that is, except the Petty track.

Iovine pushed Stop Dragging My Heart Around on Nicks specifically because he felt the album lacked a single. But take a fresh listen to the track alongside Gold and Braid, and consider my argument that the record would have been even bolder and better with Nick's track remaining in place instead of Petty's inclusion.

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Don't get me wrong, Iovine was right to bring Nicks into Stop Dragging My Heart Around. Stevie sings with TP better than any other human on the planet could have. But Dragging belongs, alongside Petty and Nick's incomparable Insider, on Hard Promises.

The craziest thing of all is that Iovine thought Bella Donna lacked a single to begin with. After all, Edge of Seventeen is on this record. The song is pretty ubiquitous: I feel like I've heard its riff and chorus at every sporting event I've ever been to. Obviously, I haven't, but it's one of those songs that its hard to imagine the world without.

And let's close this out with her live performance of that song from her far too brief tour in 82. Find me a more powerful and soulful performance by any white person. All of Nick's male peers, from Lindsey Buckingham to Van Morrison to Neil Young to Petty himself - would have fallen flat on their face had they tried to do anything this complicated, athletic and surging on stage at that point (make that ever). Stephen Stills would have somehow managed to fall on his face and ass simultaneously.

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OOO Baby. Oooo Baby. OOOOO.

And so, as this first partial year in the Dollar Bin rolls towards closure, may all praise raineth down upon Stevie.

My record melting/Neil Young questioning, big deal friend Greg points out that Nicks, Stephen Tyler and Stephen Stills have yet another thing in common: they all practically have the same first name!

And so let me amend my earlier, definitive statement regarding the suckiness of musicians with that moniker (and redeem the unintentionally slighted Stevie Wonder and Cat Stevens in the process) with a bumper sticker ready (so long as your car is WIDE LOAD width) pronouncement: The Dollar Bin hereby proclaims that all WHITE MALE musicians with FIRST names derived from Steve/Stephen, (except, most of the time time, Steve Earle..) suck.

Here's looking at you Steve Miller! My curses upon thee Steve Vai!

#Youtube #stevie nicks #tom petty #the heartbreakers #stephen stills still sucks #so does stephen tyler

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deathmetalangel · 5 months

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Could you please do a fourth grade from mid 90s x reader where fourth grade doesn’t have a place to stay so she lets him stay at her house and they confess their feelings to each other thank you

FUCK IT, I LOVE YOU

fourth grade x gn! reader

warnings: mentions of homelessness, swearing (it’s mid90s so), anxious fourth grade, insecure fourth grade, fluffy kinda?

“wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine,”

Y/n was usually out late. They enjoyed the nightlife of the city compared to the festivities of the morning. Sure it was nice to get out when the sun was rising and the city was just waking up. But, to y/n, the real fun happened when everyone was already asleep.

Sure it could be scary. Sometimes it did get boring. All that empty darkness with few awake to spend the night with. It only appealed to them because of the serenity. The night didn’t have to be wild for them to enjoy it. Some of their best nights were spent simply gazing at the stars. Or having a deep meaningful conversation in the moonlight.

On one of their many walks, unaccompanied but not unarmed of course, they’re stopped when a familiar face interrupts their path. “Hey, Fourth Grade. I thought you hated being out this late?”

The lanky boy looks around awkwardly. Y/n had stumbled across him on his way to the skate park. Ray had mentioned he’d slept there before when he got overwhelmed and just had to take a break from everything. That wasn’t out of necessity, and in Fourth Grade’s case definitely not out of embarrassment to ask anyone for help. “Uh, you know. I wanted to see what you’re always missing the mornings for.”

A smile graces y/n’s features. Small, but amused as it didn’t quite reach their eyes. Fourth Grade tints a slight shade of red. Almost everything they did seemed to fluster him. When they look at him he can’t meet their gaze. “Fourth Grade are you lying to me?” His breath catches in his throat. Of course they’d figure him out so easily.

Y/n spent the most time around Fourth Grade and vise versa. In their friend group everyone had their obvious ‘best friend’. They didn’t like their other friends any less, but that’s just who they clicked with the best. It used to be Ray and Fuckshit, but Ray seemed to take on a more big brother role for Stevie. Fuckshit and Ruben hang out more as a result. And for as long as anyone can remember it’s always been y/n and Fourth Grade.

They often mirrored each other as well even when they hung out with the whole group. Stevie, the most observant since he was the youngest and easily the most eager, had picked up on it before even Ray did. When y/n would lean on something usually Fourth Grade would follow suit. When Fourth Grade would try to look at them without being caught, he’d usually get caught because they were doing the same thing. Leaving both of them red in the face and avoiding eye contact.

“I- it’s nothing. I’m fine y/n/n. Just wanted some breathing room.”

“I know you Fourth Grade. Come on. We can talk about it at my place. It’s getting late, even for me so I’ll make some tea.” Fourth Grade looks hesitant to respond to the offer. Y/n smiles before holding out their hand. “At least walk me home? I won’t make you talk if you don’t want to.”

Swallowing his anxieties he grabs their hand and follows them back home. The walk was quiet. You could hear the crunch of the pavement under their shoes and the high pitched chirps of the crickets in the distance. He didn’t mind. Fourth Grade was busy trying to plan what he was going to say. He didn’t want y/n to pity him. He hated that.

The guys knew better, but y/n had been there for him the most. It was hard for them not to feel bad for him. He only notices when the warmth leaves his hand as they go to unlock the front door. “Uh it might be a little messy. Don’t worry. My mom’s working late again and left in a huge rush so, uh. Yeah,”

Y/n leads him inside and locks up behind him. The house was nice, a bit messy, but it looked full of warmth. Their house wasn’t huge, but it was only y/n and their mom. They had money, just didn’t feel the necessity to buy a big house just for the two of them. “Come on we can chill in the kitchen until you get sick of me.” Like he’d ever.

Fourth Grade sits down at the kitchen table while she puts on a pot of water to boil. When they sit down in front of him he tenses. “Are you gonna tell me why you really were out at 2 am?”

His hands get clammy as he wipes them on his jeans. He really hated lying, that and he wasn’t very good at it, but lying to y/n just made him feel worse. Like the guilt weighed down on his conscious tenfold. “I was going to the skate park.”

“Fourth Grade, you don’t have your board.” Right, god he was making a fool of himself.

“Oh. I must have forgotten it at home. Damn.”

They raise a brow. Y/n questions him again, “I mean it, please don’t lie to me Fourth Grade. I can’t help you if you lie to me.”

God he felt like the earth would eat him up at any moment now. Actually telling them would be like admitting defeat. Or worse. Admitting weakness.

“I was gonna crash there.” His words hang in the air for a while. A pregnant pause fills the space between them. His eyes drop down to his hands that grab his knees desperately hoping to ground himself.

Y/n’s chair screeches against the wooden floor as they pull it back to stand up. Fourth Grade looks up to see what they’re doing. They’re leaving? He really doesn’t wanna ask, but he so desperately wants to know. Shit. They probably thought he was a poor loser. He was. He was a dumb, poor, awkward skater kid with no real future besides working a dead end job like his parents. He was stupid. So fucking stupid.

A blanket and pillow hit him in the head. “Crash on the couch in my room. Or you could take the bed I take the couch I don’t care. Ma won’t care either she loves you. Just don’t lie to me next time.” Y/n goes back to start pouring the boiled water into mugs.

Fourth Grade looks at the blanket and pillow flabbergasted. Was that it? Was that really all he was worried about? “I know that look. And yes, I’m not making a big deal about it because it isn’t a big deal. You should’ve just asked me from the start. Why would you feel ashamed. We’ve known each other so long literally nothing you do phases me anymore. And no, I’m not doing this because I feel bad. I offer to help because I care and want the best for you.”

Y/n places the cup of steeping tea in front of him before sitting down. “Why?” They drop the bag of tea into their cup and raise a brow. “Why do you care y/n/n? What’s in it for you? I’m such a bad friend. I lie to you, I can’t do the things you do for me, and-”

“I care because if you could, you would. Give yourself more credit. You’re smarter than you think you are so use that brain of yours to think of reasons why I stick around.” They say not really showing much worry.

He was though. “I don’t know. Fuck if I knew I’d do whatever it was you liked more often. Hang out with you? Cause I definitely can’t buy you things y/n.” This was very out of character for him. Y/n could see that this was a long time coming.

“Fucking hell you’re dumber than I thought if you think I care about that. If I wanted someone who just bought me shit instead of caring about me I’d hang out with Fuckshit, but I don’t because he only cares about himself and fucking anything with a pulse. I hang out with you because you’re nice and polite and thoughtful. Even when you don’t have a lot to say you listen. That’s more than half the guys I’ve hung around have done.”

Fourth Grade sighs. “Fuck y/n you don’t get it. I want to be able to do those things for you. You should be around friends that can. You should have friends that you don’t have to feel bad for and let stay at your house because their place is basically temporary.”

Y/n rolls their eyes while stirring the honey into their tea. Fourth Grade clenches his jaw before turning to get up. “Don’t you dare leave,”

“I’m not gonna burden you y/n. I’ll figure it out, thank you for the tea.”

“No.”

He stops. “No?”

“I said no. I’m not letting the guy I like sleep on the streets because he’s too stubborn to just accept my help.”

“Y/n-” He pauses. What did they say? “Wait what?” Y/n doesn’t say anything, but he can see their cheeks flush.

“I’m going to bed. Goodnight Fourth Grade,” Y/n tries to make their way to their room when he grabs their wrist. Y/n stops.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“You know what I mean.”

They both stay still. Not a word nor a whisper broke the ever so fragile silence. Y/n looks up through their lashes at Fourth Grade. He couldn’t look away from them either. They were just frozen. “I made it awkward. Didn’t I?”

“Can you just let me calm down for a sec?”

“Huh?”

Y/n tilts their head up at Fourth Grade who looked as bright as a tomato. “I love you. Shit. Y/n listen I-” Their arms slip over his shoulders and y/n leans up to shush him. When they kiss all he can think about is not acting like an idiot. His eyes shut and he wraps his arms around their waist. The height difference was apparent, making him lean down to not break the kiss.

When they do break apart for air he smiles, his face contorted into a goofy grin. “I’m sorry. I-”

Y/n shushes him again. Their finger placed against his lips. “You’re cuter when you aren’t overthinking everything. Please stop apologizing and we can finish our tea and have a nice sleep after this very eventful night. I for one have had enough to make me sleep a good 12 hours.”

Fourth Grade looks down clumsily before rubbing his neck. “Yeah. Okay.”

#deathmetalangel #mid90s x reader #mid90s imagine #mid90s #mid90s fluff #mid90s fourth grade #mid90s fourth grade x reader #fourth grade x reader

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