#gold dust woman | s. crosby

[angelsuecult]

gold dust woman | s. crosby

“and is it over now, do you know how?

pick up the pieces and go home”

warnings: sexual content, implied (f) masturbation, thigh-riding, MDNI, 18+, nsfw, strong language, controversial? age gap, father’s friend, infidelity

summary: Sid has a nice encounter with a daughter (22) who’s existence he hadn’t know about, your father, a childhood friend who hes only just reconnected with.

request description: age gap sid, immediate strong tension, meeting sidney for the first time.

wordcount: 6.9k

song: gold dust woman - fleetwood mac

a/n: hi guys i hope you enjoy this request i tried to do it justice so if u requested it, don't hesitate to let me know how i did. anyways i really enjoyed writing this one so i hope you guys enjoy reading it too. i'm currently planning on releasing two more soon maybe tonight maybe tomorrow so i hope you guys will like those too! okay, enjoy reading!

___

Sidney hadn’t seen your dad in what felt like forever, one of those people he’d lost touch with as life and hockey pulled him in different directions. So, when the invite came through for a summer get-together, it felt like the perfect opportunity to reconnect. He’d been looking forward to catching up with some old friends, but nothing could’ve prepared him for what greeted him when the door swung open.

He wasn’t sure who he expected to open the door, but it definitely wasn’t you.

The moment you opened the door, he was caught off guard. He’d expected someone, but not you. Not someone who looked like that-who carried that kind of presence, the kind that immediately knocked the air out of him.

Standing there, framed by the soft summer sunlight, you looked like you didn’t belong to this world. He took you in all at once, a tidal wave of feeling that knocked the air out of his chest. You were–Jesus, you were stunning. Maybe it was your pretty face, the soft curve of your lips, or the way your half-lidded eyes lazily flicked up to meet his with the kind of confidence that left him instantly, completely whipped. His gaze trailed down, unable to stop itself from following the smooth lines of your body, your legs impossibly long in those fitted jeans that hugged you just right as if they'd been made specifically for you, and that small t-shirt that barely covered the soft lines of your waist. But what did him in, what completely took over his brain for a solid few seconds, were your hands. They rested at your sides, fingers delicate and perfect, the kind of hands that could bring a man to his knees if you wanted. His mind ran wild thinking about what they'd feel like against his skin before he could even stop himself. He tried not to stare, tried to keep it casual. But the way your lips curled slightly as you took him in made his heart skip a beat or two.

It was like you had walked straight out of a dream he didn't know he had.

The moment stretched between you both, thick and charged, until you spoke first, your voice low and teasing, like you knew exactly what he was thinking. It took everything in Sidney not to close the distance between you.

“Hey, you must be Sidney,” you said, stepping back to let him in, your gaze never leaving his. There was something in the way you looked at him, something that had his pulse jumping in his throat. It was too much. Too soon. He hardly knew you, yet he wanted you in a way that felt raw, primal. But he forced himself to keep his cool, to not let it show just how much you were already affecting him.

Your voice. God, it did something to him–a soft, smoky tone that hit his ears like honey. Sidney cleared his throat, feeling suddenly out of his element.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied, his voice somehow steady, though his heart was anything but. He walked inside, giving you a smile that he hoped looked casual, but when his eyes met yours again, it was anything but. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the way his gaze roamed over you again, slower this time, dragging over every inch of your body. “Guess your dad hasn’t told me much about you,” he said, a lazy attempt at teasing, but it felt stiff.

You closed the door behind him, turning smoothly, effortlessly, like you were made for it, made for moving in a way that left him unable to focus on anything but you. Sidney had never been so thrown off his game so quickly. You weren’t just beautiful; you were dangerous. The kind of girl who could walk into any room and leave it spinning in her wake.

Your eyes scanned him slowly, taking your time before answering, “I’m full of surprises.” You led him into the house, your walk slow and confident, hips swaying slightly in a way that felt entirely too intentional. Sid clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes forward, pretending he wasn't completely aware of every single move you made. “My dad’s in the backyard. He’ll be in soon.”

Sidney nodded, his brain still catching up to the fact that you were his old friend’s daughter. That this wasn’t some random woman he could flirt with without consequences. Your dad was a good guy, and Sidney respected him, but damn, it was hard to keep that in mind when you were looking at him like you were right now—like you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.

His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse loud in his ears. He could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, the heat pooling low in his stomach, and for a split second, he wondered if you could feel it too–this magnetic pull between you. Could you feel the tensions between you two? Because it was damn near suffocating him. The way you looked at him, like you were daring him to make a move, was driving him crazy. He didn't know if it was your face, your lips, or the way your body seemed to make him drive him wild. Probably all of it. But he needed to keep his cool, needed to act like this wasn't affecting him, like he wasn't already thinking about what it would be like to have your legs wrapped around him. He couldn’t let himself go there, not with you. Not with the daughter of an old friend.

Before Sidney could say anything more, your dad’s voice called from the backyard, breaking the spell. Your dad stepped into the room through the sliding door. But you didn't miss the way Sidney’s eyes flickered toward you, the briefest moment of hunger before his expression shifted to something more casual. It was subtle, but the heat between you two was undeniable.

He shook your dad’s hand as if the world hadn’t shifted the second you opened the door. The man clapped him on the shoulder, grinning ear to ear, before excusing himself to the bathroom. “Be right back, Sid–make yourself at home.”

And suddenly it was just the two of you again, the tension simmering between you like an unspoken agreement that neither of you acknowledged outright.

You stood there, leaning slightly against the counter, your eyes flicking to him again. He could feel your gaze tracking him as he took a few steps deeper into the house, pretending to admire the space. But truthfully, he was trying to ground himself, trying to avoid looking directly at you because every glance sent his mind spinning. The way you looked at him wasn't like the usual attention he got, the way people looked at Sidney Crosby. No, this was different. This felt like you saw right through him. And fuck if it didnt make him want you more.

You haven't said much, but everything in your body language screams control–like you knew exactly what you were doing, exactly how to play this game. And Sidney, despite years of keeping his cool under pressure, was starting to feel like he was on the losing end.

He shifted his weight, trying to focus on something else–anything else–but his eyes kept drifting back to you. He couldn't help it. There was something about you that was utterly unattainable, like everyone else wanted you too, but you were just out of reach, untouchable.

And he wanted you.

Fuck, he wanted you.

But he wasn’t the kind of guy to act on impulse, especially not when it was someone as connected to his past as you were. He had to keep it together. Play it cool. You were young, probably just out of college, while he was–well, definitely not in his twenties anymore. But that didn't stop the way his heart kicked up a notch every time you moved or how his body reacted everytime your gaze lingered on him for just a second too long.

Before either of you could say anything else, your dad returned, oblivious to the tension simmering in the room. You straightened up, the teasing glint in your eye softening just a bit, but Sideny felt it, the crackling energy. You flashed at last glance at him, something playful and almost wicked, before you excused yourself to your room.

As you walked away, Sidney found himself watching the sway of your hips, the way your jeans hugged your endless legs, and just as you disappeared down the hallway, you looked back at him. He knew it wasn’t an accident. That look over your shoulder was deliberate, calculated, and he couldn’t help himself.

Sidney caught himself glancing back at you not once, but twice as you disappeared down the hallway, feeling like an idiot for doing it, but unable to stop himself. The second time, though, he was sure you’d noticed. He couldn’t help himself, he had to look, just to be sure he hadn't imagined it. That tiny smirk was there again, teasing, knowing. You didn’t say anything; you didn’t have to. You already had him hooked.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the way his body reacted to you. He needed to pull himself together. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, an experienced one at that, but he felt like a kid with a schoolboy crush. All from one glance. One smirk. One little flicker of something between you. He was here to catch up with your dad, not this. Not whatever this was. But the way you moved, the way you looked at him, it was impossible not to want more.

Goddamn, he thought. He was in trouble. He knew that for sure now.

He felt like he'd been thrown into a game he didn't know the rules to, but he wasn't about to shy away. Not when the stakes were this high.

Sidney’s heart pounded in his chest as he turned his attention back to your dad, who was rambling about the backyard, the old crew, and how it’d be like old times again.

But it wasn’t like old times. Not anymore. Not with you there.

“Let's head out back,” your dad said, breaking Sidney’s thoughts. But as they walked through the house and into the backyard, his mind stayed on you, replaying every glance, every tiny shit of your body, wondering what might make him do next.

And somehow, he had a feeling that this was just the beginning.

The backyard was lively, filled with people Sidney hadn’t seen in years, friends of your father, most of whom he recognized from his childhood. Conversations blended into a background hum of laughter, catching up, and the occasional clinking of glasses, but Sidney’s attention was somewhere else entirely.

It was on you.

No matter where he stood, who he talked to, his eyes were constantly searching for you—across the yard, near the fire pit, sitting at one of the tables. And every time he found you, he swore you were looking right back at him. It wasn’t just the occasional glance either. It was a magnetism, a pull, one he couldn’t escape. Whenever you locked eyes, the rest of the world seemed to disappear, like you were the only two people in the crowd.

He tried to focus on conversations, genuinely wanting to reconnect with some of the old friends milling around, but it was impossible to get through more than a sentence or two without wondering where you were. And when you weren’t nearby, he found himself scanning the yard, hoping to catch another glimpse of those half-lidded eyes watching him.

And every single time, you didn’t disappoint.

The tension between you was palpable. When you were close, it was unbearable. And when you were across the yard, it lingered in the space between you, thick like the summer heat. Everyone else was completely oblivious, laughing and chatting like nothing was amiss, like they didn’t feel that electric charge in the air.

Even your dumbass boyfriend didn’t notice. Sidney hadn’t seen you get within arm’s length of the guy all night. Not that he was complaining. Actually, it made him feel a little smug. The way you barely acknowledged him, how you avoided his touch, how you actually looked annoyed every time he tried to get close—Sidney noticed every bit of it.

In fact, your disinterest in your boyfriend became the clearest when everyone had gathered around, embracing him like some long-lost hero. Sidney could feel the weight of your gaze from the edge of the group, the way you hung back while everyone else threw their arms around him, exchanged jokes, and reminisced. You stayed away, distant, cool, those pretty eyes of yours watching him with an intensity that made his stomach tighten.

It wasn’t lost on him either how much you tilted your head when you watched him, like you were studying him, trying to figure out what made him tick. It drove him crazy. He wanted to know if you were thinking the same thing he was. Did you want him like he wanted you? Was your pulse racing every time your eyes met his, or was that just wishful thinking on his part?

He wanted so badly to know what was going through your head.

And then there were the moments when you got close—too close.

Whenever you passed him, whether it was reaching for a drink or moving around the yard, your hand would graze his ever so slightly. Just enough to send a jolt of heat straight through him. He wondered if you knew what you were doing or if it was just coincidence, but after the third or fourth time, he had a feeling it was no accident.

At one point, you brushed by him to grab something off the picnic table, your fingers trailing just barely against his arm. Sidney’s breath caught, and he could feel his skin tingle where you touched him, like a burn that wouldn’t go away. His eyes flicked to yours, and for a split second, the world stopped again. The air between you crackled, heavy and charged. Your lips curved into the smallest smirk, and Sidney had to force himself to tear his gaze away before he did something reckless, like reach out and grab your wrist just to see if that same spark would shoot up his arm.

He shifted his weight, trying to keep himself grounded. His head was spinning, but he couldn’t let it show. Not here, not now. He had to play it cool, even though all he could think about was the way you looked at him with those pretty eyes, your lips slightly parted, as if waiting for him to make the first move. He imagined what it would be like to close the gap, to feel your mouth on his, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the taste of you on his tongue.

But every time the thought crossed his mind, your boyfriend would appear—clueless and completely unaware. The guy didn’t even seem to realize that you were avoiding him, that you were never affectionate, never close. And honestly, Sidney couldn’t help but feel a little smug about it. It wasn’t his fault the guy didn’t notice how your attention was elsewhere.

Sidney’s eyes followed you again as you moved across the yard, your hand brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your fingers grazing the side of your neck. His mouth went dry. He tried to focus on the conversation happening around him, but he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering, from picturing you pressed up against him, your breath warm on his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair.

He needed to get a grip.

Your dad called out to him from across the yard, pulling him back into the moment. Sidney plastered on a smile, lifting his beer in acknowledgment, but his thoughts were still tangled up in you, still replaying every look, every touch.

As the evening wore on, the tension between you only seemed to build. Even though you weren’t constantly in the same group, there was an undeniable pull that kept dragging his attention back to you. Every time he caught you glancing at him from across the yard, every time your hand brushed against him, it felt like another layer of control peeled away.

By the time the sun started to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and gold, Sidney was practically buzzing with need. He was worked up, his mind racing with thoughts he shouldn’t be having, thoughts that would get him into trouble.

But all he could think about was you—about the way your body would feel pressed up against his, the way your lips would taste, the way you’d sigh his name if he touched you the way he wanted to.

It took everything in him not to cross the yard and find a way to get you alone. And from the way you kept glancing at him, he had a feeling you wouldn’t exactly mind if he did.

The night hadn’t ended as he hoped. Sidney's fingers tapped absentmindedly against the steering wheel as he sat in his car, parked in front of your house. His mind was running in circles, replaying every moment of the evening in agonizing detail—the way your eyes lingered on him, the brush of your hand against his arm, the subtle smirk that curved your lips whenever you caught him looking at you.

You were impossible to forget.

The way you had smiled so sweetly, just for him, your fingers brushing against his arm as you whispered, “Goodnight, Sidney,” made his pulse race. But then you had dragged your boyfriend—whom it was so clear you hated—into the house. That should have been his cue to go. It was. He’d told himself there was no point in sticking around when everything was so painfully out of reach.

And yet here he was, still sitting in his car, parked in front of your dad’s house like an idiot, his heart thudding in his chest. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, replaying the way you looked at him, the way your lips had quirked into that teasing little smile. And the worst part? He didn’t want to leave.

He sighed, dragging his hand through his hair, trying to shake the thought of you from his mind. But it was useless. You were everywhere—on his skin, in his thoughts, making him feel like he was going to explode. He needed to get himself together.

Just as he started to gather himself, he heard the passenger door click open. His heart stopped for a second, and when he turned, there you were.

You didn’t say a word as you slid into the car, freshly showered, smelling faintly of soap and shampoo. Your legs, bare beneath those tiny boxer shorts, brushed against the center console, and your top left almost nothing to the imagination. Sidney’s breath hitched, his chest tightening at the sight of you.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was low, raspy, barely above a whisper. He wasn’t sure if he was asking you or himself.

The tension that had been building all night, the unspoken pull between you, snapped the moment you settled into the seat beside him. Without even thinking, Sidney reached for you, and you leaned over the center console, your lips crashing into his with an intensity that stole his breath.

The kiss was desperate, hungry, like neither of you could get enough. Sidney’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you made a sound—a soft, breathless sigh that sent a rush of heat straight through him. God, you tasted sweet, sweeter than he could’ve imagined, and he couldn’t get enough.

Your lips moved against his, feverish and demanding, and Sidney was lost in you. His other hand slid down your side, feeling the soft, bare skin beneath his fingertips, and you shivered under his touch. Your lips parted, and he didn’t hesitate, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting you, exploring every inch. The kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth, but it was perfect—so perfect it made his head spin.

He broke away just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard, your lips swollen and red.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice rough and thick with desire. “You’re so—”

You didn’t let him finish. Your hands were on him, fingers curling into his shirt as you pulled him back in, your lips crashing into his again. Sidney groaned into your mouth, his hand slipping under the hem of your top, sliding up the smooth expanse of your back, desperate to touch more of you.

Your hands moved, fingers curling into the length of his hair as you leaned over the console, practically climbing into his lap. He kissed you like a man starved, each touch, each stroke of his tongue against yours making it harder to remember why this was a bad idea.

“Sidney,” you breathed, your voice a soft, breathy plea that made his blood run hot.

He groaned, his hands sliding down to your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin as he guided you closer. “Come here, baby,” he muttered, pulling you fully onto his lap.

You shifted, and suddenly you were climbing over the center console, straddling his lap, your knees pressing into the seat. Sidney’s hands instinctively found your hips, holding you in place as you settled onto him. The moment you sat down, you both gasped, the heat between you sparking like a live wire.

“God, you’re so pretty,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours before trailing down your jaw to your neck.

You tilted your head back, giving him better access, and he didn’t hesitate, his lips and teeth grazing your skin, eliciting a soft gasp from you. “Fuck,” you sighed, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed a path down to your collarbone.

He couldn’t stop the low growl that escaped him as you rolled your hips against him, the friction making him grip you even tighter.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to look at you. Your lips were swollen, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes were dark and full of want. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

You smiled, a teasing, almost wicked smile, as you leaned in to kiss him again. This time, it was slower, deeper, your lips moving against his in a way that had him completely unraveling.

“I think I have some idea,” you murmured, your voice full of that quiet confidence that had been driving him insane all night.

“Jesus,” he breathed, his voice low and strained, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he fought to catch his breath. He could feel the warmth of you through your shorts, pressed against his thigh, and it was driving him absolutely wild.

You rocked your hips, testing the waters, and Sidney’s grip tightened on your waist, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

A soft, breathless laugh escaped your lips, and Sidney couldn’t help but smile against your skin. But then you moved again, this time slower, more deliberate, grinding your hips against his thigh, and all traces of humor disappeared.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head tilting back against the headrest, his hands guiding your movements. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear, your breath warm against his skin. “You like that?” you whispered, your voice low and teasing.

Sidney’s hands slid up your back, tangling in your hair as he pulled you down for another kiss. This one was slower, but no less intense. Your lips moved against his in a lazy, sensual rhythm, your hips still grinding against his thigh, sending wave after wave of pleasure through him. His tongue slipped into your mouth again, tasting you, exploring every inch, and you moaned softly into the kiss, the sound making his blood boil.

“Sidney,” you murmured, your voice soft but full of need.

“Yeah, baby?” he asked, his hands sliding down to your thighs, squeezing gently.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

“Never,” he promised, his voice low and rough as he kissed you again, his hands gripping you tightly as he guided your movements against him.

You leaned forward, your lips finding his neck as you pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to his skin. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips even tighter as you sucked gently, leaving a faint mark just below his jaw.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his head falling back against the headrest as you continued your assault on his neck.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes meeting his as you smiled, that teasing, confident smile that had been driving him crazy all night.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Sidney murmured against your lips, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you as you moved. “So damn sweet.”

You bit down on his bottom lip, tugging it gently between your teeth, and Sidney groaned, his hands tightening on your waist. “God, you’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice rough and desperate. “So perfect.”

Your hands were in his hair, tugging gently as you kissed him, slow and sloppy, your lips swollen and red. Sidney’s hands moved down, gripping your hips as he guided you against his thigh, feeling the heat of you through your shorts.

He pulled away just enough to look at you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Fuck, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “I need you. I need you so bad.”

Your lips curved into a slow, teasing smile, and you leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Then take me,” you whispered, your voice soft and sweet, but full of promise.

Sidney didn’t need any more encouragement. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, his lips crashing into yours once more. The kiss was hot and messy, full of tongue and teeth, and neither of you cared. All that mattered was the feel of you in his arms, the taste of you on his lips, the heat of your body pressed against his.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, his voice rough with desire as his hands slid down to your hips again, pulling you harder against his thigh. “I’ve been wanting this all fucking night.”

Sidney couldn’t remember the last time he felt this out of control. Every kiss, every movement of your hips against him had him feeling like he was seconds away from losing it entirely. You were perched on his lap, legs spread over his thighs, and the way you rocked against him, the heat of you soaking through the fabric of your little boxer shorts—it was intoxicating. His hands were on your waist, guiding your movements slowly, deliberately, just enough to feel the friction but not enough to give you what you so clearly wanted.

Your lips were swollen, a little bruised from how hungrily you had been kissing him, but you didn’t stop. Neither of you did. The taste of you was addictive, and Sidney couldn’t help but groan into your mouth when you kissed him again, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. Your breathless sighs and quiet moans sent shivers down his spine, each sound like music to his ears, pushing him closer to the edge. He felt like a teenager again, like this was his first time sneaking around and making out in the front seat of his car.

But this was so much more intense, so much more desperate.

“Shit,” Sidney muttered, his voice hoarse as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His hands were gripping your hips tightly, guiding you slowly against his thigh, but he could feel the tremble in your legs, the way you were growing more and more restless beneath his touch. You wanted more—he could feel it.

Your head tipped back, lips parted as a soft moan slipped out, and Sidney swore it was the prettiest sound he’d ever heard. He shifted beneath you, the friction of your body against him sending sparks of pleasure coursing through his veins. He wanted to touch you everywhere, to feel every inch of you, but he was holding himself back, trying to maintain just an ounce of control.

But when you started to get impatient, your body grinding harder against his thigh, his restraint started to slip.

“God, you’re driving me nuts,” he breathed, his voice low and rough as his hands slid under the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your back. He could feel the warmth of you through the thin fabric of your shorts, and it was taking everything in him not to just lose it right here in the front seat of his car.

You whimpered softly, your fingers tightening in his hair as you rocked against him harder, chasing the friction, needing more. Sidney’s lips found your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, feeling you shiver against him.

"Please, Sid," you whispered, your voice soft and needy, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight through him. You tilted your hips, trying to guide his hands lower, to where you really wanted him, but he resisted, keeping his touch light and teasing.

“Not yet,” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing against your collarbone as his hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you in place. “I want to take my time with you.”

A frustrated moan escaped your lips, and Sidney could feel the tension in your body, the way your breath came in short, shallow gasps as you rocked harder against him, trying to find release on your own. He groaned softly, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements against his thigh as you ground down, your breath hitching with each movement.

You were so close—he could feel it.

And so was he.

Sidney’s hands wandered beneath your shirt, exploring the soft curves of your body, but still, he didn’t touch you where you wanted him to. He was drawing it out, making you work for it, and the more he held back, the needier you became.

He could feel the heat of you through your shorts, the dampness pooling between your thighs as you pressed harder against him. The thought of you so worked up, so desperate for him, was enough to drive him insane.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Sidney muttered, his voice thick with desire as his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, brushing against your bare skin. You gasped softly, your body trembling beneath his touch, but he didn’t give you what you wanted, not yet.

"Sid, please," you whimpered, your voice breaking as you grabbed his hand, trying to guide it lower. But instead, he pulled his hand away, his lips curving into a slow, teasing smile.

“Uh-uh,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he kissed your neck again. “You’re gonna have to work for it, sweetheart.”

You groaned softly in frustration, but instead of protesting, you did exactly that. Your hands gripped his shoulders for balance as you started to rock your hips against his thigh, faster, more desperate this time. Each movement sent a wave of pleasure washing over you, and Sidney could feel the way your breath hitched with each grind of your hips. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your head tipping back as you let out a soft, breathless moan.

Sidney’s grip tightened on your hips, guiding you, helping you chase that high you were so desperate for. He was losing control, too—his breathing ragged, his skin flushed, and every moan that escaped your lips was pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“You feel so good,” Sidney muttered, his voice rough as he kissed your neck again, his hands sliding down to your ass, squeezing gently as he guided your movements. “So fucking good.”

You whimpered softly, your body trembling as you ground against him harder, faster. Sidney groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly, pulling you down harder against his thigh, feeling the heat of you through the thin fabric of your shorts. He was so close to losing it, so close to just taking you right here in the front seat of his car.

But then you moved your hand between your legs, pressing your fingers against the slick fabric of your shorts, and Sidney’s breath caught in his throat. You were so needy, so desperate for him, and he could feel it in every strained sound you made, every trembling movement of your body.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he watched you, his heart pounding in his chest.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you touched yourself, your fingers moving in slow circles over your soaked shorts. Sidney groaned, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer as he kissed you again, his lips moving hungrily against yours.

He should stop you—he knew that. He should tell you that this was wrong, that someone could walk by at any moment and see what you were doing. But you didn’t care, so why should he?

Sidney’s hands slipped beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing the soft skin of your back as he kissed you harder, deeper. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, the way you trembled beneath his touch, and it was driving him insane.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” Sidney muttered against your lips, his voice thick with desire as he kissed you again, his hands wandering beneath your clothes.

You let out a soft laugh, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Who gives a shit?”

Sidney chuckled, his breath hitching as you ground against him again, harder this time. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he pulled you down against him, feeling the heat of you through your shorts. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You smiled, your lips curving into a teasing smirk as you kissed him again, slow and lazy, your fingers tangled in his hair. “You love it,” you whispered, your breath hot against his lips.

Sidney groaned softly, his hands sliding down to your thighs, squeezing gently as he pulled you closer. “Yeah, I fucking do,” he muttered, his lips brushing against yours.

The air inside the car was growing thick with heat and tension, and Sidney could barely think straight. The windows were starting to fog up, the outside world slowly disappearing from view as if the two of you were in your own little bubble. Each kiss was deeper, messier, and more desperate than the last, your breath mingling with his as your lips moved together in a rhythm that neither of you wanted to break.

Sidney’s hands were everywhere—on your hips, your thighs, slipping beneath your shirt, exploring every inch of your body. He could feel how soaked you were through your shorts, how your body trembled with need, and it was driving him wild. You were grinding against his thigh, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your little moans making it almost impossible for him to hold back.

The tension between you was unbearable, like a rubber band stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any second. Sidney knew that if you stayed like this any longer, he was going to lose control completely. And the thought of taking it further—of giving you exactly what you wanted—was tempting, so damn tempting. But there were people just a few feet away. One wrong move, one sound, and the entire night would unravel. As much as Sidney wanted you, as much as he ached to take things to the next level, he couldn’t risk it.

You were breathless, your body trembling as you rocked against him, your fingers still pressing between your legs, and Sidney’s mind was a blur of need. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the pulse of desire thrumming through his veins, but he couldn’t help the small voice in the back of his head reminding him of the reality of the situation. If you two didn’t stop now, someone would notice.

The windows were fogging up more and more, a telltale sign of what was happening inside the car, and Sidney knew it was only a matter of time before someone got suspicious. You must have sensed it too because your movements slowed, your breath coming in soft, shallow gasps as you kissed him again, a little slower this time, but just as needy.

Sidney muttered against your lips, his voice rough as he broke the kiss for a second, his forehead pressed against yours. “We’re gonna get caught.”

You didn’t seem to care, your lips moving to his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin as you ground against his thigh one last time. “I don’t give a shit,” you whispered, your voice hushed, but full of need, your breath hot against his skin.

Sidney groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he tried to hold back, tried to be the voice of reason, but you were making it so damn hard. “I know, but—fuck, we need to stop. Just for now,” he whispered, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

Reluctantly, you pulled back, your lips leaving his neck, your eyes heavy with lust as you met his gaze. Your body was still pressed against his, and the heat between you was almost unbearable. Sidney swallowed hard, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to regain some semblance of control.

But you didn’t make it easy for him.

With a slow, deliberate movement, you pulled your fingers from between your legs, slipping your hand out from beneath your shorts, your fingers glistening in the low light. Sidney’s eyes darkened as he watched you, his breath catching in his throat as you brought your fingers to your lips, giving him a taste of yourself with a slow, teasing lick.

His head fell back against the seat, a low, desperate groan escaping his lips as he watched you, his skin buzzing with the need to pull you back into him, to kiss you until you were both out of breath again. But you were already shifting off his lap, your body moving away from him, leaving a trail of heat in your wake as you settled back into the passenger seat.

“This isn’t over,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry as you leaned in one last time, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Next time, you’re gonna give me what I fucking want.”

Sidney’s chest tightened at your words, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched you, his mind already racing with the possibilities of what next time might bring. “You think I won’t?” he murmured, his voice deep and full of promise. “You have no idea.”

Your eyes flickered with amusement, a teasing smile on your lips as you leaned in close, your breath warm against his ear. “I’m counting on it.”

Sidney let out a low, rumbling laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to cool down. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, but there was no mistaking the anticipation in his voice, the thrill of knowing that this wasn’t over—that next time, you would both cross the line you were dancing so dangerously close to tonight.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment longer, the tension still heavy between you, but there was an unspoken agreement now. You couldn’t push it further, not here, not tonight. But Sidney was already counting down the minutes until the next time he could get you alone, until the next time he could finally give you everything you wanted—everything you both wanted.

You slipped out of the car, your body moving with an easy grace that had Sidney’s eyes following your every movement. You glanced back at him one last time, a knowing smile on your lips before you turned and disappeared into the house.

Sidney watched you go, his mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. His skin was buzzing, his heart racing, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you felt against him, the way you tasted, the way you sounded when you said his name.

He leaned back in the driver’s seat, letting out a shaky breath as he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against the fogged-up window. He was already imagining the next time, the way he would pull you close, the way he’d kiss you until neither of you could think straight, and this time, he wouldn’t hold back.

Next time, you were going to get exactly what you wanted.

And Sidney couldn’t fucking wait.

[touchstoneaf]

MSR/TXF playlist pt. 3 (season by season):

S6:

More Than This: The Cure (B)

The Things We Do for Love: 10cc (S)

Big Log: Robert Plant and the Honeydrippers (S)

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas: Bing Crosby (B)

Everywhere: Fleetwood Mac (S)

In These Arms: Bon Jovi (M)

How Do You Talk To An Angel: The Heights (M)

Come Away With Me: Norah Jones (M)

Over And Over: Wilson Phillips (S)

What About Love: Heart (M)

Head Over Heels: Tears For Fears (S)

Next Time I Fall: Peter Cetera / Amy Grant (M)

Give A Little Bit: Supertramp (M)

Fool For Your Loving: Whitesnake (M)

Fool In the Rain: Led Zeppelin (M)

Alone: Heart (S, re The Fowl-One)

Jealousy: Natalie Merchant (S (see above))

Gold Dust Woman: Fleetwood Mac (S (see above))

Hard Habit to Break: Chicago (S)

Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover: Sophie B. Hawkins (S)

Always (extended version): Bon Jovi (S)

Show Me Your Soul: Red Hot Chili Peppers (M)

Bellbottom Blues: Derek and the Dominos (M)

Somebody To Love: Jefferson Airplane (M)

Who Will You Run To: Heart (M)

You May Be Right: Billy Joel (M)

If You Could Only See: Tonic (M re The Fowl One)

S7 (preface, this songlist posits a night, possibly in grief after the IVF fails, and then some confusion on Scully's part and some steadfast waiting on Mulder's (because they didn't meet eyes for a few eps in there between Closure and All Things, and then the events of All Things happened and all was well, lol):

My Weakness: Moby (S) 

Angel Of the Morning: Dusty Springfield / Juice Newton (S)

Sorry About That: Alkaline Trio (M)

Have A Little Faith In Me: John Hiatt (M)

Foolish Heart: Steve Perry (M)

In The Deep: Bird York (M)

What Hurts The Most: Rascal Flatts (S)

If This Is It: Huey Lewis and the News (M)

Waiting On You: Coverdale Page (M)

Hanging By A Moment: Lifehouse (M)

Let Me Be the One: Blessid Union of Souls (M)

Listen To Your Heart: Roxette (S)

Hold On To The Nights: Richard Marx (S)

One Thing: Finger Eleven (S)

Heart And Soul: Huey Lewis and the News (M)

Hold On My Heart: Phil Collins (M)

Spin: Lifehouse (M)

Sonnet: The Verve (M)

Stay: Jon Secada (M)

Love Look What You’ve Done to Me: Boz Scaggs (M)

Love Of A Lifetime: Firehouse (M)

Stay The Night: Chicago (M)

No Ordinary Love: Sade (M)

Turning Circles: Sally Dworsky (M)

The Other Side: David Gray (M)

Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad: Def Leppard (M)

Hello: Lionel Ritchie (M)

Don’t Look Any Further: Dennis Edwards (M)

Hold The Line: Toto (M)

We’ve Got Tonight: Kenny Rogers / Sheena Easton (M)

Just The Way You Are: Billy Joel (M) 

I Only Have Eyes For You: The Flamingos (M)

I Wanna Kiss You All Over: Climax Blues Band (M)

I'd Really Love To See You Tonight: England Dan / Dan Seals (S)

If I Can’t Have You: Yvonne Ellison (M)

Feel Like Makin’ Love: Bad Company (M) 

The Deeper The Love: Whitesnake (B)

Angel: Aerosmith (M)

Drive: The Cars (M)

Bring Me To Life: Evanescence (S)

Waiting: The Devlins (M)

Uninvited: Alanis Morisette (S)

Throwing It All Away: Phil Collins (M)

Why Can’t This Be Love?: Van Halen (M)

Don't: Jewel (S)

Near You Always: Jewel (S) 

Here’s To The Nights: Eve6 (S)

Silence: Sarah / Delerium (S)

Hold On My Heart: Phil Collins (M)

Sometimes When We Touch: Dan Hill (S)

That's All: Phil Collins / Genesis (M)

One More Night: Phil Collins (M)

In Too Deep: Phil Collins / Genesis (M)

Keeper Of The Flame: Martin Page (M)

Make It With You: Bread (M)

More Than Words: Extreme (M) 

I Love You: Sarah McLachlan (S)

Witness: Sarah McLachlan (S)

Can’t Fight This Feeling: REO Speedwagon (S)

Give Me All Your Love Tonight: Whitesnake (M)

Tonight (single version): Def Leppard (M)

Come Undone: Duran Duran (M)

The Sky Is Breaking: Moby (S)

Sweet Surrender: Sarah McLachlan (S)

Baby What A Big Surprise: Chicago (M)

No Explanation: Peter Cetera (M)

Feels Like The First Time: Foreigner (M)

Stellar: Incubus (M)

You Make Me Feel Brand New: Stylistics (S)

Glad: Traffic (B)

No One Like You: Scorpions (B)

Miss You In A Heartbeat: Def Leppard (B)

Something to Talk About: Bonnie Raitt (B)

Hold Me Thrill Me Kiss Me: Mel Carter (B)

High On You: Survivor (M)

Good Feelings: Jon Secada (M)

Even The Nights Are Better: Air Supply (M)

Take My Breath Away: Berlin (S)

Feelin' Alright: Traffic (B)

For Your Eyes Only: Sheena Easton (S)

When I’m With You: Sheriff (B)

Power Of Love: Celine Dion (S)

For The Longest Time: Billy Joel (M)

Thank You: Dido (B)

This Year’s Love: David Gray (B)

The Search Is Over: Survivor (M) (TBC)

[stylesnews]

The fitting climax of Harry Styles’ album-launch bash on Friday night: the moment Stevie Nicks came out to join him for a surprise duet on “Landslide.” “For me, it wouldn’t be an album release without this young lady,” he told a rapt L.A. Forum crowd who’d already heard him debut the fantastic new Fine Line in its entirety. “I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy this as much as me. Please welcome to the stage, Stevie Nicks.” Never one to make a shy entrance, the Gold Dust Woman sashayed regally to the microphone on bootheels half Harry’s heigh, while he raved, “I know—cool, isn’t it?” Their duet was enough to bring down anybody’s mountains, as they held hands and slow-danced. He gazed deep into her eyes to sing the key line, “Can the child in my heart rise above?” The sold-out arena crowd of 18,000 swooned as these two hit their hair-raising harmonies on the final “snoooooow covered hills.”

Harry and Stevie have a long, touching history as everybody’s favorite rock-star friendship. One of the key moments that anointed him as a solo star after the end of One Direction was his 2017 show at Stevie’s old stomping grounds, L.A.’s famous Troubadour, where she joined him to sing “Landslide,’ “The Chain” and “Leather and Lace.” They did “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” last spring when he inducted her into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, with the iconic image of Harry dropping to his knees onstage to hand her the trophy. She called him her “love child” in Rolling Stone. (Mick Fleetwood was in the house tonight, so it was a family affair.) She dedicated “Landslide” to him at London’s Wembley Stadium with Fleetwood Mac in June, fondly calling him “my little muse.” But this duet felt special, celebrating their mutual admiration as well as his new Fine Line: the queen welcoming this prince into the pantheon.

Harry’s show was a triumph all the way through, as he leveled a rapturously screamadelic crowd in arena-slaying glam-rock monster mode. Honestly, Having Sex wiped the floor with Feeling Sad, and it wasn’t even close. “Fine Line Live: One Night Only” was a stand-alone gig, four months before he begins his 2020 world tour. He made the night more than a showcase for the new songs; he made it a celebration of this communal pop tribe he has somehow gathered over the years, reveling in his role as a madman master of benevolent mischief. He peacocked in his finery from the album cover, in a salmon-pink shirt, a pearl necklace and high-waisted white sailor pants. Fans had been camping out all week in the Forum’s parking lot, and nobody showed up in a mood to get mellow. To the surprise of absolutely not one single person, the entire audience sang virtually every line of songs that none of them had heard 24 hours earlier. “I’m baaaack,” Harry announced. “I have more than ten songs now.”

He kicked off with “Golden,” playing guitar hero over the surging Seventies-style Malibu harmonies. (His entrance theme was a spoken-word soundbite from the writer Charlies Bukowski: “To do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art.”) For the first hour, he did all the new tunes, without a dud in the bunch: “Sunflower, Vol. 6,” which seemed like the closest thing to a weak link, turns out to be a gas live. In typical hyperactive starman mode, he twirled, waved, blew kisses, soared in the impossible vocal acrobatics of “Falling.” He seemed amused to note which moments got the biggest responses, especially after “To Be So Lonely,” with its hook, “I’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry.” “I have one question,” he said. “For what reason when I call myself an ‘arrogant son of a bitch,’ is that when you sing the loudest? Did you just decide to sing that one line with your whole chest?”

A surprise highlight came when he did the theatrical Pippin-smitten “Treat People With Kindness,” bringing out the pop duo Lucius to sing the chorus. The floor became a dance-off—in one corner, dozens of girls put all their bags and backpacks in one giant pile, so nobody had to worry where their stuff was, and then danced around the pile in a circle that was really moving to behold, an example of how a Harry Styles concert creates crucial moments of utopian unity and shared euphoria. At one point, he told the audience, “There’s nothing that makes me more hopeful than standing in front of you. Thank you for that. You absolutely changed my life.”

His ace band brought Fine Line’s wide range of emotions to life. “Canyon Moon” accelerated into a buckskin-fringe hippie hoedown that Crosby, Stills and Nash would have shaved their sideburns for. “Cherry” might be the album’s darkest and rawest moment, with its stark confession of jealousy. (“I confess I can tell that you are at your best / I’m selfish so I’m hating it” is really going all the way down.) But it’s also the prettiest, and tonight “Cherry” became a country-rock ballad with Sarah Jones’ drumrolls and plaintive pedal-steel flourishes from guitar wizard Mitch Rowland, who Harry playfully introduced at rehearsals as “Mr. Mysterious!” “Fine Line” ended on a grand note—the six-minute ballad has the introspective vibe of the final scene of Fleabag, as Phoebe Waller-Bridge takes that long slow lonesome walk home.

The night ended with a five-song victory lap, kicking off with “Sign of the Times,” the glam love-and-death piano ballad that began his solo career with a bang, and ending with the cataclysmic rocker “Kiwi,” which got a metallic new Iron Maiden-style intro. He did his slow dance with Stevie Nicks—finally, the rock & roll queen meets a real king who can handle. He busted out another surprise tribute to one of his classic-rock idols: Sir Paul McCartney. For some reason, “Wonderful Christmastime” sounds positively brilliant as a Harry song; a storm of tinsel confetti snow fell on the audience during what felt like several hundred repetitions of that “siiiim-ply haaaaa-ving” chant.

As he declared at the end, “The album is yours. I am yours. I couldn’t ask for a more incredible group of people to play my music for.” (The exit music: Van Morrison’s ��Madame George.”) But there was an extra emotional edge to his version of One Direction’s 2011 debut hit, “What Makes You Beautiful,” revamped into a Stones-style rock groove. Harry’s now got more great songs than he can fit into a solo show. He doesn’t need any padding, any songs he doesn’t passionately want to sing. But it means something to him now to revisit “What Makes You Beautiful,” the hit that started him down the ten-year road to the glories of Fine Line.

As he told me this summer, it’s a toast to the shared history between him and his audience. As he told me this summer, “One of my favorite parts of the show always is playing ‘What Makes You Beautiful.’ Always. It’s not like, ‘I’m not playing *those* songs any more, because this is *me* now.’ I’m saying, ‘No, it’s *all* me.’ If there was any song where I should be saying, ‘I don’t know if I can fucking play that one again,’ that would be the one. So it means so much for me to do it and have us all sing it together. It gets more and more meaningful.” Like the rest of the show, this version of “What Makes You Beautiful” was a celebration of the unique bond between this performer and this audience—and a tribute to how far both have evolved over ten weird years.

[hlupdate]

So what does a young superstar spend his time thinking about? Classic rock, mostly, along with the occasional movie or TV show. Harry Styles has always been a voracious scholar of pop history — the kind of guy who obsesses over John and Yoko album covers and Fleetwood Mac deep cuts. “We’re all just fans,” he says. “I’m just a music fan who happens to make some.” These are just a few of Harry’s favorite things — some influences, some inspirations, some heroes.

Listen along to our Harry Styles playlist here.

Van Morrison The Irish blues bard was down and out in Boston when he wrote his brooding 1968 song cycle Astral Weeks. “It’s my favorite album ever,” Harry says. “Completely perfect.” Harry recently posed with his idol for a backstage photo — inspiring Van to smile, which doesn’t happen too often. The grin is so out of character for Van, Harry jokes, “I was tickling him behind his back.” (He’s kidding, obviously.) On his first tour, before going onstage, he played “Madame George” over the speakers — the epic ballad of a Belfast drag queen. “‘Madame George’ is one of my favorites — nine minutes. I’ve got some long songs but not my nine-minute one — it hasn’t quite come through yet.”

Joni Mitchell Harry got so obsessed with her 1971 classic Blue, he went on a quest. “I was in a big Joni hole,” he says. “I kept hearing the dulcimer all over Blue. So I tracked down the lady who built Joni’s dulcimers in the Sixties. She still lives around here.” He not only found her, she invited him over. “I went to her house and she gave me a little lesson — we sat around and played dulcimers.” She built the dulcimer Harry plays on his new album. “Blue and Astral Weeks, that’s just the ultimate in terms of songwriting. Melody-wise, they’re in their own lane. Joni and Van, their freedom with melodies — it’s never quite what you thought was coming, yet it’s always so great.”

Etta James The hard-living R&B legend could do it all, from raw Chess blues to pop-soul torch ballads. Harry is a devotee of her 1960 debut album At Last! “This whole album is perfect. On that record you have ‘I Just Want to Make Love to You’ going right into ‘At Last,’ which has to be one of the greatest one-twos ever. Her ad libs are so intense. It’s like, ‘Come on, Etta — tell us how you really feel.’”

Wings Paul McCartney’s 1970s band left behind a slew of shaggy art-pop oddities. Harry swears by London Town and Back to the Egg. “While I was in Tokyo I used to go to a vinyl bar, but the bartender didn’t have Wings records. So I brought him Back to the Egg. ‘Arrow Through Me,’ that was the song I had to hear every day when I was in Japan.” The 1971 suite Ram was divisive for Beatles fans at the time, but for Harry it was a psychedelic experience: while making the album, he and his band enjoyed it while lying out in the sunshine on mushrooms. “I love Ram so much — I used to think it was a mixed bag, but that’s part of its beauty. And the one that’s just called McCartney, with the cherries on the cover and ‘The Lovely Linda’ on it.”

John & Yoko: Above Us Only Sky Documentary A deep dive into the world of John Lennon and Yoko Ono, during the making of Imagine. “I watched Above Us Only Sky on Netflix,” Harry says. “Seeing him play ‘Imagine’ on piano made me want to take piano lessons.” One of his favorite Lennon songs: “Jealous Guy,” especially the Donnie Hathaway cover. “Have you ever heard the original version of ‘Jealous Guy’? It was called ‘Child of Nature.’ Every time I play ‘Jealous Guy,’ I can’t help singing ‘Child of Nature.’ I really like Mind Games too. My favorite-ever album cover is the John and Yoko Live Peace in Toronto. So beautiful: it’s blue sky with one cloud, and that’s it.”

Carole King For a playback of his new music, Harry arranges to listen at Henson Studios in Hollywood, which used to be the old A&M Studios, in Studio B. Why? “It’s the room where Carole King recorded Tapestry.” Obsessive pop scholar that he is, Harry reveres King as both a singer and songwriter. His favorite: “So Far Away.” “How do people make shit like this?”

Crosby, Stills and Nash These three hippie balladeers summed up the mellow West Coast soft-rock vibe, despite their chemical wreckage. (For the full story, see the great new band bio by Rolling Stone’s David Browne.) “Those harmonies, man,” Harry says. “‘Helplessly Hoping’ is the song I would play if I had three minutes to live. It’s one of my ‘one more time before I go’–type songs.”

The Other Two TV Series He’s a big fan of the Comedy Central series. “It’s a brother and a sister — they’re the Two — and their younger brother becomes a viral YouTube sensation. He’s a Justin Bieber–type thing. He’s 13, and it’s basically those two dealing with that. It’s really funny.” (He’s got a thing for absurdist pop scenes like this — he also recommends the documentary When the Screaming Stops, about a bizarre reunion gig from the Eighties twin-brother duo Bros.)

Paul Simon “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover,’ that’s the greatest verse melody ever written, in my opinion,” Harry says. “So minimal, but so good — that drum roll. ‘The Boxer’ is a perfect lyric, especially that first verse.” Paul Simon was one of his childhood soundtracks, with or without Art Garfunkel. “I grew up in a pub for a few years when I was a kid and Simon and Garfunkel were just constantly playing, always. Every time ‘Cecilia’ started, I’d be like, ‘I think I’ve heard this a hundred times today.’”

Hall and Oates “For my 21st birthday, I had a big party, and I convinced myself I really wanted Hall and Oates to play. I knew it wasn’t going to happen — I just had to ask. But just a few months before, they went into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, so whatever it was, it was now three times as much as it used to be. Their rate just tripled — ah, fuck.”

Peter Gabriel, “Sledgehammer” Video “The greatest music video ever. I also love that Eighties synth pan-whistle sound — it basically just exists in this song and ‘My Heart Will Go On.’”

Elvis Presley “The first music I ever heard was Elvis Presley. When I was little, we got a karaoke machine and I sang Elvis, because that’s what my grandparents listened to. I made my grandfather a tape of me doing Elvis songs on one side and all Eminem on the other side. Unfortunately, I accidentally played him the wrong side.”

Harry Nilsson The legendary L.A. eccentric could croon middle-of-the-road hit ballads like “Without You,” but also a crazed weirdo who caroused with John Lennon and pursued his own lunatic pop fantasies. In other words, Harry Styles’ type of guy. “I think of all the great songwriters I love — but they all had their pop songs. Joni Mitchell with ‘Help Me,’ Paul Simon with ‘You Can Call Me Al,’ Harry Nilsson with ‘Coconut.’ You have to conquer the fear of pop.”

Stevie Nicks The Gold Dust Woman and her “little muse” are everybody’s favorite rock friendship. At the Hall of Fame ceremony in March, the sight of Harry dropping to one knee as he hands the award to a radiant Stevie — one of the iconic cross-generational images of our time. They first sang together in L.A. two years ago, when she made a surprise guest appearance at one of his first solo shows. “One of my favorite-ever musical memories. We sang ‘Landslide’ as a soundcheck, and that was even cooler for me than the show — just me and her, in an empty Troubadour.”

They just sang “Landslide” at a Gucci event in Rome, with Harry hitting impossible high notes on the final “snooooow-covered hills.” “We practiced in the dressing room,” he says. He’s got the rehearsal footage on his phone — when he hits that note, guitarist Waddy Wachtel is too stunned to keep playing. “That’s my favorite bit,” Harry says. “Practicing the song together. Just the two of us.”

[poltondrum90-blog]

Top 50 Cover Songs from Movies

Say Anythinghas In Your Eyes,Goodfellashas Layla,Apocalypse Nowhas The End, andFight Clubhas Where Is My Mind. These are established truths. But a cover song in a movie is different. It can actually elevate the drama - ascribing meaning and sentiment to the music being played. All of a sudden this song that we're pretty sure we've heard before is chewing the scenery and the actors fade into the background.

All too often, the cover song is tailor-made for the movie itself. If you recall the '90s, countless covers were contributed to movies just to fulfill some bureaucratic record contract quota, which is why you saw all kind of questionablepunk,ska,andnu metalcovers padding out these soundtracks and bands' setlists. Ahead, you'll find songs that (mostly) go beyond contractual obligations and, with the movie, help to carve out a nice little niche for each other in the pop culture canon.

Keep in mind that there are essentially three kinds of cover songs in this list: songs the movie desperately needed, songs the movie helped make, and songs that transcended the movie altogether. For instance, Hole song might be the only redeemable part of a film, an Eagles song made into a rumba might define scene, and a Neil Diamond cover might just become the quintessential version of the song. So, grab your headphones, heat up some popcorn, and relish these 50 covers.

__________________________________________________________

50. The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead

Dumb and Dumber (1994)

Performed By: Crash Test Dummies

Originally By: XTC

Peter Pumpkinhead came to town/ Spreading wisdom and cash around, or so the story tells us. Fans of classic Farrelly Brothers comedy Dumb and Dumber know that dimwitted Harry Dunne and Lloyd Christmas also came to Aspen dropping Benjamins. As far as wisdom, eh, they'll have to write you an IOU. However, one thing we do know for sure is the filmmakers were wise to invite the cover-friendly Crash Test Dummies along for arguably the stupidest road trip in film history. They chop a verse from XTC's original hit from two years prior, but keep the song's ironic spirit intact. Most memorably, backup Dummies vocalist Ellen Reid sings lead with Brad Roberts' three-testicle baritone surfacing on choruses - and absolutely smashes it. There was such hope for the single that Jeff Daniels even reprised his role as Harry in the music video, which relates Peter's story. Whether it's XTC or CTD, it's fair to say that we like this song a lot. Matt Melis

__________________________________________________________

49. Desolation Row

Watchmen (2009)

Performed By: My Chemical Romance

Originally By: Bob Dylan

In a film full of musical choices both pitch-perfect (The Times They Are A Changin' over the world-setting prologue) and highly suspect (slow humping to Leonard Cohen!), My Chemical Romance's cover of another Dylan classic sits somewhere squarely between the two. Yet for whatever you might have to say about Zach Snyder's interpretation of the medium-defining graphic novel, it's hard to say that the furious opening riffs of this modern update aren't immensely satisfying over the final image of Rorschach's journal, waiting to destroy the false new social order that the titular group of heroes chose to leave in their wake. Dominick Suzanne-Mayer

__________________________________________________________

48. Mustang Sally

The Commitments (1991)

Performed By: The Commitments

Originally By: Mack Rice

Before there was Sing Street, there was The Commitments. Back in 1991, Alan Parker's Irish-British-Americanmusicalcomedy was one of the hippest movies around. For nearly two hours, you could escape overseas and hang out with larger-than-life characters like Deco Cuffe, Outspan Foster, or Jimmy Rabbitte as they got their shit together to create great music. They were a total mess, but that's what made their story so intriguing. They were a bunch of local losers trying their darnedest to be, as Rabbitte later says, the hardest-workin' band in the world. That try fuels their Robert Palmer-esque cover of Mustang Sally, a bluesy culmination of all their sweat, energy, and emotion, the likes of which are led by Andrew Strong's Kentucky bourbon-glazed vocals and Glen Hansard's silver licks. Ah, who are we kidding, this movie's still hip as hell.Michael Roffman

_________________________________________________________________________

47. Any Major Dude Will Tell You

Me, Myself, & Irene (2000)

Performed By: Wilco

Originally By:Steely Dan

Packed with '90s radio mainstays from Third Eye Blind to Hootie & The Blowfish the soundtrack to Me, Myself & Irene seems no different from any other early Farrelly Brothers movie. But like the film itself, there's a disarming pathos beneath the surface, mainly in the form of eightcount 'em, eightSteely Dan covers. Unsurprisingly, Wilco best pulls off the Dan's sugar-coated subversiveness with their take on Any Major Dude Will Tell You, most likely due to their own experience with burying weird-ass lyrics beneath laid back arrangements. The flirting organs of Leroy Bach and the late Jay Bennett allow lines like Have you ever seen a squonk's tears? to go down like honey. It's a lawnchair gem that would fit in on any of the band's last three albums. Dan Caffrey

__________________________________________________________

46. Sweet Child o' Mine

Big Daddy(1999)

Performed By: Sheryl Crow

Originally By: Guns N' Roses

Big Daddy is hardly a movie. Have you watched it recently? The whole thing plays out like an extended music video; or rather, a string of vignettes taped together by popular FM hits from that era and the years prior. It's a direct bi-product of the TRL Generation, and there isn't a single frame of the film that suggests it's anywhere but 1999. All things considered, there are a few gems on the soundtrack - from Garbage's When I Grow Up to Big Audio Dynamite's Rush - but the most memorable takeaway is Sheryl Crow's inspired cover of Guns N' Roses' Sweet Child o' Mine. Gone is any trace of the song ever being a hard rock anthem and in its place is a sunny country ballad that fits snugly in Crow's oeuvre. Today, she sings it better than Axl Rose does and we're okay with that.Michael Roffman

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45. Did You Ever See A Dream Walking

Lady in White (1988)

Performed By: Bing Crosby

Originally By:Art Jarret

Many scary movies associate their ghost or murderer with a popular song. A Stir Of Echoes had Paint It Black, Halloween II used Mr. Sandman, and you can guess what tune popped up in Jeepers Creepers. But the most unnerving instance of musical terror belongs to Lady In White, a little-seen, coming-of-age/horror tale starring an adolescent Lukas Haas. I won't spoil exactly how the song comes into play here, but opting for Bing Crosby's take of Did You Ever See A Dream Walking? over Art Jarrett's initial version was a smart move on the filmmaker's part. Whereas Jarrett's rendition seems like the logical choice with its tinny, melancholy tone, Uncle Bing's fireside baritone is downright cheery, providing eerie juxtaposition to the events onscreen. Dan Caffrey

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44. Easy

Baby Driver (2017)

Performed By: Sky Ferreira

Originally By: The Commodores

For all of the killer tracks on display throughout Edgar Wright's exercise in kickass songs and flawless action choreography, it's one of the sweetest songs that also ends up mattering most. Baby might have a lot of mixes, but it's the golden-edged tape with Mom scrawled on the site that he'd put his life in danger to recover: a lilting take on Easy by his deceased mother (ahem, Sky Ferreira). Not everything goes the way Baby would hope by film's end, but through it all, he's still easy like Sunday morning. Dominick Suzanne-Mayer

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43. Such Great Heights

Garden State (2004)

Performed By: Iron & Wine

Originally By:The Postal Service

Thealready-precious Such Great Heights is made rice-paper fragile by Sam Beam for the one soundtrack that had youths everywhere confusing privilegeddisaffection with clinical depression. Nevertheless, the whisper of Beam on the wind turns a bubbly digi-love song into an intimate ballad. This isn't the one that will change your life, but it's now the marquee song for visiting your childhood home, staring at the artifacts of your past, and thinking about how it all used to be so goddamn simple. Jeremy D. Larson

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42. Gold Dust Woman

The Crow: City of Angels (1996)

Performed By: Hole

Originally By: Fleetwood Mac

Look, there never should have been a sequel to The Crow. But, you can't argue that City of Angels director Tim Pope didn't at least try to do something different with James O'Barr's gothic graphic novel. His grimy 1996 sequel turns Los Angeles into a bone-dry, urine-colored shithole, a far cry from the stormy, slippery Detroit that Alex Proyas conceived of two years prior. Still, the similarities were obvious, especially the sequel's attempt to capture the magic of its predecessor's soundtrack, and to its credit, the film comes dangerously close. PJ Harvey, Iggy Pop, Deftones, White Zombie, Bush, and Filter all contribute admirable tracks, though the real standout was Hole's cover of Fleetwood Mac's Gold Dust Woman. Coming off of Live Through This, Courtney Love brings her fuck you attitude front and center, turning the classic rock hit into a grunge-y stomper. Purists be damned, but it's exactly the type of song you want to hear if you're avenging the death of your son on All Saints' Day. Michael Roffman

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41. Degenerated

Airheads (1994)

Performed By: The Lone Rangers

Originally By: Reagan Youth

Sometimes a song makes a movie. And sometimes a songis the movie. Just imagine an Airheads where Chazz, Rex, and Pip spin their Long Rangers demo on air for all the guppies listening to Ian the Shark and it actually is just Pip farting on a snare drum. Even Milo would have to agree the three (not to mention the movie) would each look like half a butt puppet (so, um, one and a half butt puppets). Luckily, the film's creative team opted to re-record Degenerated, an early '80s punk song by hardcore band Reagan Youth. No, that's White Zombie, not Pip and Rex, backing Brendan Fraser on vocals, but the results are some first-class mid-'90s powerslop (not that we like to label things) that could pass as a legit demo and, more importantly, get heads banging. While the song turned out well for both Airheads and The Lone Rangers, you gotta wonder if Kayla will ever catch on that Chazz totally didn't write this for her. Matt Melis

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