#live laugh love Roger Taylor

[not-the-coffee-machine4]

[doing-allright]

the best, most wonderful thing about this year's eurovision

[anonymityisfunwriter]

"Slut!"

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

"She goes through guys like a train-"

You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.

"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.

You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."

"I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"

"A slut," you finish for him.

His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."

You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.

It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.

It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.

They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.

You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.

You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.

There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.

And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.

In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.

For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.

That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.

You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.

This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.

Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."

"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."

It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.

Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"

"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.

"For what?"

"You warned me this would happen."

It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.

You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.

Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.

It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.

But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.

You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.

No one knew how bad it would get.

"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."

"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."

You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"

He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."

"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.

The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.

It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.

At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.

You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.

But it didn't end there. Not even close.

The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.

From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.

You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.

"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."

Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"

"I've been better."

"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."

"What now, Tony?"

"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"

"They want me to take over for you."

You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."

"No, don't do that. It's for dad."

"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."

"They broke into my house, Tony."

"What? Are you okay?"

"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"

"Where was your security?" Tony demands.

"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."

"I'm so sorry."

"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."

You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."

"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."

And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.

You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.

It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."

"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."

And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"

Steve Rogers Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[agreeeeeeeeeee]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | S.R.

feat. Steve Rogers x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You and Steve broke up, but life as an assassin for SHIELD goes on, no matter how grueling. little did you know, Steve was suffering too, and reality is far from how it appears.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, breakups, protective!Steve, assassin work, mentions of blood and death, Steve is a bit of a munch (but he still tops you), happy ending

AN: inspired by "I Can Do It With A Broken Heart" by Taylor Swift from her album The Tortured Poets Department.

divider by @saradika-graphics

Steve left you on a random Tuesday afternoon. No fanfare, no warning, no discussion. He barely even looked at you when he shattered your heart.

In the two years you'd known him, and the six months you loved him, you'd never seen him so callous. He'd looked at motorcycles with more affection than he looked at you in that moment.

You didn't understand, couldn't understand, but it didn't matter. Your relationship was over, and your life felt like a held breath ever since.

He said he'd love you all his life, but for a man that's been alive for a century, six months was barely a blip. You were barely a blip.

But you couldn't dwell, couldn't break down like you wanted to, because you were one of the top assassin's at SHIELD, and missions didn't care about your feelings.

So you were sent out into the field, day after day, week after week, with a smile on your face and your shoulders thrown back, never ever missing your mark. And still, SHIELD demanded more of you.

Fortunately, you could do it with a broken heart.

“Agent L/N, report to Fury’s office for assignment,” the earpiece in your ear crackled to life, jarring you from the workout you were pretending to do.

“Another one? Seriously?” Nat said, looking up from the squat rack, sweat glistening along her hairline.

You shrugged. “The fun never stops,” you said with a half-hearted smile, and she rolled her eyes, returning to her reps.

As quick as you could, you pulled an oversized hoodie over your sports bra and retied your ponytail, which has fallen into sweaty disarray during your workout.

Normally, you'd change into your suit, but when Fury called, he didn't like to be kept waiting.

You take the elevator direct to his office, and when the doors roll open, you're greeted by Nick Fury, Sergeant Barnes, and, of course, the back of Steves head.

His hair has grown a little longer since you were together, and your fingers itched to run through it, to scratch his scalp in the way that makes his dark lashes flutter, to tug on his roots in the way that makes him groan low in his throat…

You shook yourself and slapped on a smile. “Good morning, Nick,” you chirped, sauntering into the room.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said, offering as close to a smile as he could manage. “Have a seat.”

You perched on the edge of Bucky’s table, and he gave you a stiff nod in greeting . Steve didn't look up from the open file in front of him, but you could tell by the angle of his shoulders that he wasn't happy.

Nausea twisted in your stomach, your heart splintering a bit further, but you kept your expression pleasant.

“Would it kill you two to be a little more cheerful?” Fury quipped, and Bucky snorted. “Could all use a little more sunshine around here.” Fury winked at you, and you winked back.

Steve’s fingers tightened on the file, but you chalked it up to its contents.

“Little Miss Stabs-a-lot seems to be managing just fine for all of us,” Bucky said, his voice dry even though his eyes were smiling.

That's you, managing just fine.

Fury chuckled and passed you a similar file to Steves. “Your target is Lugoff Isaacson, HYDRA weapons director.”

You flipped through the file, finding a laundry-list of diabolical misdeeds, as well as a number of altercations with the two men beside you.

“Dinosaur’s couldn't hack it?” You teased, but only Nick laughed.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Isaacson lives like a hermit, and the only people allowed in his company are fellow HYDRA agents—” Nick paused, bracing his hands on the desk. “And pretty women.”

You heard Steve's teeth grind together, and Bucky glanced over at him, but you kept your eyes on your boss. “When do I leave?” You asked, already rising.

“Nick, she can't go in there with Isaacson alone,” Steve snapped, pushing the file away from him. His voice was rough and low, menacing, and it sent a chill up your spine.

“She certainly can,” Nick rebuffed. “Unless you want to go with her?”

Steve glared at Nick, so sharp it was practically lethal, but didn't say another word.

You felt like he stomped your heart beneath his boot, and were seized by the urge to fall at his feet and beg for a reason why he would do this to you. But instead, you flipped through the file, finding your orders in the back. “Flights at 2:30. I need to pack and get a blowout. I'll update when I land.” You tucked the file under your arm, blew Nick a kiss, and flitted back to the elevator, not sparing Steve a second glance.

He certainly wouldn't look back at you.

“How many is that this month?” You heard Bucky ask as the doors started to roll closed.

“15,” Fury answered, pride clear in his voice. “She's our most productive assassin to date.”

Steve's POV

“Don't give me that look, Rogers,” Fury droned, avoiding Steve's eye.

“She's not some goddamn chess piece you can just play however you want,” he bit, barely contained anger simmering underneath the surface. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep his mouth shut during that meeting, to not grab you around the middle and run for the fucking hills.

The thought of Isaacson, that slimy rat laying a hand on you—it made Steve's mind bleed red with rage. He knew you could handle him, knew you'd make quick, clean work of the kill, but the things you'd have to endure to get that perfect opportunity…

He couldn't bear it.

“Thats exactly what she is,” Fury said, snatching the file from in front of Steve. “It's what you all are.”

Bucky scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, and Steve rose from his chair, bracing his hands on the table to lean into Fury’s smug face.

“I'm done playing your fucking games. And if you think I won't take her and leave, then you don't know me very well,” he growled.

Bucky got to his feet, metallic arm flexing as tensions mounted.

“Oh, I know you, Cap. I know you'll do whatever you need to do, move wherever the fuck I want you to move, so she stays on the damn board. Right?”

Steve grit his teeth. “And when we leave, whose going to come after us? Him?” He gestured to Bucky. “Nat? Thor? Quill? Whose it gonna be?”

Fury narrowed his eye.

“Because here's the thing you've never understood. Without us, there is no fucking SHIELD. You broke us up so she'd be free to your dirty work right? Without my interference?”

Fury scoffed and went to back away, but Bucky was standing directly behind him, blocking any escape route.

“She likes it—”

“It's killing her.” Steve cut him off. “When's the last time she had a day off? A vacation? A job that wasn't too hard for another agent, but too low profile to send us? Hm? Call her fucking sunshine while your burying her alive.”

“Steve,” Bucky warned, and the table cracked beneath Steve's hands.

“It ends now. Either SHIELD takes care of her, or I do.” Steve pushed off the desk and stormed out of the room, taking the stairs to get to the control room faster.

Nat was already there. “She just got to her apartment. Steve, she's—”

“I want eyes on her 24/7, and a team waiting to deploy within twenty miles of Isaacson bunker,” he ordered.

A chorus of ‘yessir’s’ answered him, and he sunk down in the vacant swivel chair, steepling his fingers as he watched the entrance to your apartment building, a SHIELD van idling just outside.

“Cap, listen.” Nat leaned against the control panel beside him. “This has to end, before she fucks up.”

“I know—”

“No, you don't. At this level of burnout, one misstep and that's it.”

“I know!” He barked, and the surveillance workers all jumped. “I'm fixing this. I just need a little more time.”

“She might not have time.” Nat pushed off the panel. “It might not be this mission, but it could be the next one, or the next. Stop being a fucking coward and fix it before it's too late.” She stormed off, leaving Steve staring at the monitors, his heart in his throat.

He was going to fix this. He had to fix this, before he lost you for good.

You hurried out of your apartment, dressed in slacks and blouse, wrapped up in a leather trenchcoat. The driver jumped out to greet you and took your bag, and you slipped into the backseat.

He flipped the camera to the car feed, a wonky fisheye from the dashboard, and saw you check your mascara in the mirror, faint smudges of black under your eyes, your nose kissed pink.

You'd been crying.

“I'm gonna fix it, baby,” he muttered to himself, wishing you could hear him somehow. “I promise.”

Reader's POV

You took out Isaacson without any issues, just smiled and tried to ignore the way he groped your thighs, ogled your tits. He made it too easy to slit his throat.

And as soon as you returned, there was another assignment, and another, and another, until you didn't even bother going home anymore. Which was well enough for you. You didn't care to sleep in the bed Steve held you in, or the couch you'd watched his favorite black and white movies on. Didn't care to eat in the kitchen where you taught him to make your mother's signature recipe, or shower in the stall he'd washed your hair in when you were sick. It was better to stay away from all the little reminders that you didn't imagine the whole thing.

You pretended to love being busy, treated every mission like a birthday gift, and pushed forward. Until, you were assigned to work at the Winter Gala.

SHIELD hosted the annual event as an excuse for the team to rub elbows with politicians, diplomats, and executives. You'd be masquerading as a guest, of course, but in reality you were on intel duty, eavesdropping on conversations and flirting trade secrets out of the most powerful people in the world.

One of the few perks of still being anonymous to the world.

You were dreading it. A night filled with romantic music, dancing, and drinks, watching Steve schmooze with women twice as wealthy and twice as powerful as you? You'd rather choke on your own dagger. But you were determined to look fabulous, a young woman in her glittering prime, and maybe you'd feel something besides emptiness.

Tony had a gorgeous ball gown sent to your apartment that probably cost more than your annual salary, and you spent three hours on your hair and makeup for the occasion, mainly because you kept crying it off. But at the last minute you steeled yourself and carpooled with Nat to Stark Tower.

She wolf whistled as you climbed into the car, looking downright stunning herself. “I know I'm not supposed to comment, but that fossil is going to lose his fucking mind.” She chuckled, tearing off down the street.

“Lose his mind?” You snorted inelegantly. “I can barely get a ‘hello’ out of him.”

Nat looked at you sidelong, the expression sharpened by her eyeliner. “And why do you think that is, babe?”

You didn't dare comment, didn't dare think about it. You'd never get through the night if you clung to a razor thin thread of hope.

The party was in full swing when you arrived, and you came in separately from Nat to forgo any suspicion. With a glass of champagne in hand, you circled the party, trying to tune out your own thoughts so you could absorb all the conversations going on around you.

But the noise completely stopped when your eyes met Steve's across the room.

He was dressed in an immaculately tailored Navy blue suit, with a crisp white shirt and brown leather loafers. His hair was styled back from his face, his beard freshly trimmed, and he was staring at you like hunter through a scope.

“Y/n, sweetheart, come with me for a moment,” Tony appeared to your left, startling you out of your reverie. “There's someone I want you to meet.” He winked, and you flashed a toothy smile, even though you felt like screaming.

“Lead the way, Mr. Stark,” you cooed, for the benefit of anyone in earshot.

Tony led you away, but you could feel Steve's eyes burning a hole in your back, tracking you through the crowd.

“Alex, this is Lydia, the daughter of a colleague of mine. You both attended Stanford!” Tony lied through his teeth to a handsome, dark haired gentleman, and you picked it up without delay.

“Oh, of course! It's such a pleasure to finally meet you!” You gushed, sliding onto the stool beside the stranger. “Tell me, what was your favorite time of year on campus?” You brushed your fingers along his forearm, noting the model of the Rolex on his wrist, the designer of his suit.

“Fall, of course. Can't beat those colors,” Alex grinned, and you fawned like it was the most ground breaking thing you'd ever heard.

Tony left you to it, and twenty minutes later you were tucked into a booth with Alex, his arm slung over your shoulders, and his phone face up and unlocked right in front of you. Oblivious to the way you scanned every message that came through.

Alex leaned closer, his nose brushing the shell of your ear, and you had to swallow a shiver of revulsion. His hand came up to cup your cheek as you wracked you mind for a way out of this—

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Trevais, but I need to steal Lydia for a moment.” Nat appeared suddenly beside the table, looking smug, and Alex scowled.

“Right now? Really?” He argued.

“I'm afraid so.” Nat batted her lashes and Alex immediately caved.

“Fine, I'll see you later then?” He winked, alluding to the room key he slipped into your bag a few minutes prior.

“Perhaps.” You winked back, playing coy, and he grinned like a fool. “What's going on?” You hissed as Nat led you out of the party and down an dark, empty hall. "I was in the middle of something—"

“You'll see,” she whispered back, stopping at a door and doing a quick sweep before pulling it open and ushering you inside.

The door slammed shut behind you.

“Nat, what—”

The lights came on in the room, dim and golden to reveal the luxurious study you were standing in, all black leather and granite, shelves of books and expensive furniture.

But you barely registered any of that, because Steve Rogers was waiting for you by the window. Moonlight kissed his face, highlighting the flawless angles on his bone structure, and your mouth ran dry, your heart falling through the floor.

“Uh, is there a problem, Captain Rogers?” You asked, propping up the professional barrier despite the urge to launch yourself at him, the need to kiss him, or strangle him, pushing against the underside of your skin.

When he looked at up you, the air was sucked from the room. His eyes were stormy, fogged with sorrow, water collecting on his lower lashes.

“You really have turned espionage into an art form,” he chuckled, his voice thick with emotion. “Like you're having the time of your life.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“But that's not true, is it? You're as miserable as I am.”

You shook your head. “I—I’m fine.”

He huffed a laugh, pushing off the window sill. “You put on a good act, honey. But I can tell when you're performing.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, indignation flaring in your gut. “What do you want, Steve? You haven't spoken to me in months.”

He grimaced, a look of genuine pain crossing his face. “Y/n, I—”

“You disappeared for two weeks after dumping me out of the blue. You refuse to take missions within a hundred miles of me. You won't even train at the same time." You were yelling, unable to stop once you started. You'd kept it all bottled up for so long, there was no forcing it back now. "You've barely looked at me, Steve! It's like we never happened, like I made it all up in my head!”

“Because it was killing me!” He shouted back, and you flinched, tears pricking behind your eyes. You could count on one hand the amount of times Steve Rogers raised his voice, and it was never at you.

“You left me!” You yelled, your voice cracking at the edges.

“Because I had no choice! They gave me no choice.”

Your stomach dropped. “W-what?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to regain his composure. “Fury, SHIELD, they threatened to send you overseas if I didn't. To some desolate base in Russia.”

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. This couldn't be real. “Steve, that doesn't make sense—”

“You really think I would leave you like that? That I would just throw away what we had? I was trying—” his voice caught in his throat. “I thought I was protecting you. But they lied to me.”

You were shaking your head, backing away. You couldn’t take any more empty words, any more bullshit—

Steve rushed toward you, catching your face in his large hands before you could turn away. “Baby, listen to me,” he said, softening. “They wanted me out of the way so you would be more likely to do whatever they wanted. When we were together, we were working less, we were happier, we cared about something that wasn't SHIELD, and they couldn't stand it.”

“But Fury—”

“Is a manipulative fuck that took advantage of your broken heart.” You gasped at his language, usually reserved for sex or intense fighting. Steve lowered himself to his knees, his hands gripping the curve of your waist and shaking you. “I need you to believe me, honey. I'm begging you. I would never have done this if I knew the truth. I'm so sorry for hurting you, and I wish I could take it back. But I can't, all I can do is tell you the truth.”

“You didn't want to leave me?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course not.” He rested his forehead on your belly, drawing a shaky breath before looking up at you again, pleading with big, blue, watery eyes. “I-I love you. And I agreed because I was terrified to lose you completely but then I—I did anyways because I'm a fucking coward.”

You wiped a tear from his cheek with your thumb, the last of your trepidation falling away. “I love you too, Stevie,” you said, and he surged upwards, slamming his mouth to yours in a ruinous, bone-melting kiss.

He parted your lips with his tongue, possessing your mouth in a display of dominance you rarely saw from him. He licked along your teeth, groaning low in his throat as you dug your nails into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He tasted like black coffee and something sweet, like he'd hit the dessert table instead of the bar, and it made your heart flip.

God, you'd missed him.

Your lungs screamed for air, an affliction super soldiers didn't contend with, and you were forced to break the kiss to breathe.

“Cameras?” You panted, craning your head back as Steve planted wet, open-mouth kisses down your jugular.

“This is Fury's personal study. No cameras,” Steve mumbled against the peak of your shoulder, his hands all over you.

You scoffed. “Of course, because he can have priv—”

“Forget about him.” Steve captured your lips again, and you nipped at his lower lip for cutting you off. He backed you against the desk, breaking the kiss to toss you up onto it.

“Forgotten,” you replied, breathless as you looked into his eyes.

“I haven't told you how beautiful you look yet, have I?” He asked, leaning back a bit to take you in, your chest heaving against the deep plunge of your dress, lips kiss-stung and eyes bright.

You shook your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder with a smirk.

“I love this color on you,” he murmured, rubbing the hem of your dress between his thumb and index finger. And your makeup—”

“Steve.” You grabbed him by the lapel and tugged him closer, bringing his face down towards yours. A flare of arousal twinged between your legs, you loved when he let you manhandle him. “I know you're trying to be a gentleman and not fuck me without some proper flirting, but it's been months. I need you.”

Steve smiled, leaning forward to lay you back on the desk. “You don't need me, honey,” he hummed, kissing down your sternum while his hands moved your dress up your legs. He looked up at you when he settled between your thighs. “You've proven that you're a force all on your own. And that's okay, you don't have to need me, as long as you want me.”

You nibbled your lower lip, processing his words. He was right, you'd proven that you could live through heartbreak, that you didn't need him to carry on. And as much as it hurt, and as much as you missed him, there was something liberating in that knowledge.

“So, do you want me?” He asked, grazing his thumb over the gusset of your panties, maddeningly light.

“Yes, I want you,” you answered, threading your fingers through his blond hair and urging him forward.

He chuckled, smiling up at you, then pulled your panties to the side with his middle finger and flattened his tongue against your slit, licking a firm stripe up your pussy. Your head fell back onto the desk when he sucked your clit between his teeth, wasting no time in his pursuit of your pleasure.

Steve, for all his propriety and politeness, loved nothing more than feasting on your pussy. He was sloppy with it, rough and self-indulgent, as if making up for the decades he went without it. He often stayed until you were overstimulated and orgasmed-out, weakly trying to push his head from between your legs while he lapped up the mess you made for him.

“Missed you so damn much,” he mumbled against your pussy, eyes fluttering closed as he drove his tongue into your entrance.

“Missed you,” you whined, your hips bucking up into his mouth as he devoured you, lashing every one of your sweet spots with expert precision.

His hands tightened on your hips while he massaged your clit with his tongue, and even that fraction of his real strength was enough to leave a dull ache. The reminder of his true strength made your head spin, your mind empty. You may not need him, but there was something thrilling about being able let go while you were with him. Trusting that he would keep you safe and you could just be.

He licked one last stripe up your pussy before pulling back, kissing his way up your body. “Baby, I need you,” he mumbled, nosing into your neck. You could feel just how badly from the ridge beneath his trousers, his hips rocking slightly into yours. “Please, can I fuck you?” He asked, unlatching his belt with a flick of his wrist, and a shiver rolled up your spine at the desperation in his voice.

“You want to fuck me?” You repeated, toying with him. You reached between your bodies and pulled out his cock, thick and long and flushed, and pumped it once, twice, smearing precum down his shaft.

He moaned, hot and breathy against your skin. “I know I hurt you, and I still have to make up for that, but I just—fuck, I need to feel you. Please, please let me make you come on my cock.”

“Just start slow,” you cooed, petting his cheek when he lifted his head in excitement. “Been awhile since I took you.” You glided his cockhead through your folds, his breath hitching when you notched it at your drooling entrance.

Gently, he eased his hips forward, sliding in one inch, then another. "Shit, honey. Have a little mercy," he panted, his muscles bulging against the fabric of his shirt, tendons in his neck flexing.

You groaned, releasing his cock to grab hold of his shoulders, nails biting into his shirt at the stretch, bright and burning.

“Gotta relax, baby. Let me in.” He gently guided you thigh up and around his waist, squeezing the fat of your haunch in reassurance. He moved a little deeper, and you both gasped when your walls clenched around him. “So goddamn tight,” he rasped, drawing his hips back a bit, assuaging some of the discomfort before easing back inside, coaxing your muscles to loosen for him.

“Fuck, Steve,” you panted when he pushed a little deeper, your eyes rolling back in your head when he grazed your g-spot.

“Almost there, doll. You can do it,” he encouraged, reaching up to hold your face. He caught your gaze, smiling a little when your eyes struggled to stay focused, lashes fluttering. “Starting to feel good?”

You nodded, pleasure spilling through you as your body accepted him inch by inch, until finally, you felt his pelvis press against yours.

“There we go,” he purred, leaning down to kiss your forehead, your cheek, giving you a few more seconds to adjust. “Good girl, takin’ all that cock.”

He ground into you, stifling a fractured moan against your shoulder when your pussy made an obscene squelching sound, dripping wet for him. You were on another planet, tingling head to toe as waves of pleasure crested. Every beat of your heart had you clenching around him, full to splitting, and you wanted more.

“Please, baby, need more,” you whined, trying to rock your hips against his, but he was too heavy for you to do much.

He braced his hands on either side of your head, sweeping his eyes down your body as you squirmed beneath him. He chuckled, the sound low and almost malicious. “Need more?"

He drew his hips back and delivered a punishing thrust, two, three, five, until you were all but screaming, unable to do anything but lay there and take everything he gave you.

"How's that for more?" He asked, his cock brutalizing your cervix and stretching you beyond your limits, molding your pussy to the shape of his cock. Ruining you with a fervor that made your head spin.

Your peak was rapidly approaching, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust until you were half-mad with desperation, clawing at his forearms by your head and leaving pink, raised lines across his flesh.

“Gonna come for me, baby? God, I missed this little pussy—feels so good,” he grated, bringing one of his hands down to circle to your clit, firm and deliberate. Exactly what he knew you needed. “That's my good girl. C'mon, I’m right there with you—” Another thrust and he sent you both flying over the edge, sparks exploding behind your eyes as the orgasm ravaged your body, flaying you open.

You grabbed onto his arm, desperate for something to ground you as you soared, his hips still thrusting erratically as he pumped you full of his release.

Crack!

The desk suddenly tilted beneath you and Steve whisked you up into his arms, still buried inside you. You clung to him in shock as the desk collapsed to floor, sending all of Fury's belongings scattered across the carpet.

"Are you alright?" He asked, searching your face.

You nodded, easing your grip on him.

Steve adjusted you, lifting and lowering you onto his cock, and you gasped, still sensitive from the lingering orgasm, and mildly shocked by his lack of reaction to what you'd just done.

“Steve, we—”

“We did,” he hummed, kissing along your neck as he caught his breath, lazily working you over his length to wallow in the last dregs of pleasure. “And if he has a problem, he can take it up with me.”

“I think he's going to have a problem,” you snickered, and Steve smiled.

“And I'll deal with it.” He eased himself out of you and set you on your feet, straightening your panties and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You felt like you were floating in a dream, in disbelief that you had your Steve back, that he never really was gone in the first place.

“How are you going to deal with it?” You asked after righting your dress and he had tucked himself back into his trousers.

Steve pulled you back into his arms, like even that moment of separation was more than he could bear. “Depends on how much of a problem he has,” he replied, smirking. “I told you, forget about him. I'll handle it for us.”

Us. Your knees went a little weak at the word. “Yes, Captain,” you replied rising on your toes to kiss his cheek.

Thank you so much for reading!

Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. My inbox is open for requests, check my pinned post for fandoms & characters!

[riaaanna]

Queen drummer Roger Taylor remembers his childhood in King’s Lynn

In 1999, Roger Taylor spoke to the EDP's arts editor Trevor Heaton about his childhood in King's Lynn.

EASTERN DAILY PRESS, Saturday 20th March 1999

Roger Taylor was the King's Lynn schoolboy who grew up to be a superstar as part of rock group Queen. He talked to Trevor Heaton about his early life in the town, and his strong links to its ancient fishing community.

THE DAYS OF MY LIFE IN LYNN.

King's Lynn was proud of the new maternity wing at the West Norfolk and Lynn Hospital, off London Road. So, when it was announced that the Queen would be coming to open it officially, it was the icing on the cake for townsfolk and the band of health workers and volunteers who supported the hospital's work.

When the Queen (now the Queen Mother) arrived for her two-hour tour of the hospital on Saturday 1st August 1949, she was handed a golden key to perform the official ceremony, watched by serried ranks of the great and the good of Lynn. The opening over, the Queen chatted to the 16 mothers or mothers-to-be in the new unit.

The first one she spoke to was Mrs Winifred Taylor, who lived with her husband Michael at 87 High Street, in the heart of the town's shopping centre. The Queen told her how lucky patients were to have "such a lovely place". She chatted with Mrs Taylor about her new son, and his name.

Family home: Beulah Street, Off Wootton Road, Gaywood.  " A funny narrow house, and I had a tree house in the garden".

And thus, at just six days old, Roger Meddows Taylor found himself at the centre of attention.

It was something he would have to get used to. For years later, he joined with Brian May, John Deacon and one Freddie Bulsara - who had changed his name to the much-more memorable "Mercury" - to form Queen, and went on to grab the world of rock music by its collective scruff of the neck and sell countless millions of singles and albums.

But let's press the rewind button for Roger Taylor, the superstar singer, songwriter and musician and go back to a little four-year-old who was trying his best to resist his mother's efforts to get him to start his first day at Rosebery Avenue School in Gaywood on an autumn day in 1954.

School Days: Rosebery Avenue First School.

"I remember being dragged off to school on my first day hanging onto the ice cream sign because I didn't want to go", he laughs.

But, with a bit of persuasion, he let go and found himself travelling the few hundred yards from Beulah Street to the school, where he joined 40 or so pupils in the reception class and settled down to this new phase in his life.

Roger's parents, Winifred and Michael, a manager with the Potato Marketing Board, had moved to the street, off Gaywood's arterial Wootton Road, soon after his birth.

Beulah Street is now much as it was then, a neat collection of classic early 20th century town villas. Sturdy, no-nonsense houses, the bricks-and-mortar equivalent to a pair of sensible shoes.

A couple of years after the houses were put up around 1913, the Germans sent Zeppelins over the East Coast, and people from the town used to come and stay in the houses to escape the bombs.

Nowadays, a bridge goes over the Gaywood river which runs at the bottom of the road, joining Wootton Road to the River Lane sports pitches.

Wootton Road itself is much busier than in the early 1950s, with a constant stream commuters going back and forth to the hundreds of houses which have sprung up on the outskirts of Lynn over the past generation.

But back then, things were quieter, and Beulah Street was a cul-de-sac, with the road petering out by the river (a fact which caused many a missed heartbeat to unwary drivers over the years), and then looking out over miles of heath and farmland to the town proper.

Not a bad place to grow up in, as Roger readily concedes. "The road used to be very quiet. I remember going down to the end of the street and looking into the river. I used to see the odd pike or two. I was constantly being warned not to fall in" he says (he didn't).

The Taylors' home - "a funny narrow house and I had a tree house in the garden" - brought them into contact with the Spinks family, Edna and Ron. Ron was like Michael, what used to be a "white-collar worker".

Mrs Spinks, who later remarried after her husband's death and is now Mrs Corbyn, recalls: "We were close neighbours, with the Taylors the length of time they were in Beulah Street. Michael and Win and Ron and I often used to play cards together on a Saturday night. And we had Christmas, birthday and Bonfire Night parties at my house. We had a big kitchen table and we all used to get around it. The children used to go round in a big group over to Rosebery Avenue" she recalls.

"There was my son John, Jimmy Gathercole, Roger and Pam and Judy Raven. Roger used to go around with John and looked up to him because he was two years older. He used to say "I'll be glad when I'm as old as John Spinks" ", she chuckles.

"They used to do the things boys do - riding their bikes around, that sort of thing. They were good neighbours and we missed them when they left".

Roger, and later his younger sister Clare - who had arrived on the scene three years after Roger - also used to play at the home of Beryl and Norman Raven, who lived in a house on Wootton Road, which backed on to the cul-de-sac.

Mrs Raven - now Mrs Chadwick - recalls: "I remember Roger and his little sister well. Roger and his friend John used to play cricket in our back garden".

Stick 'Em Up - From left, Roger Taylor (standing on a box!), John Spinks, Jimmy Gathercole, Leonard Fiddy

"My dad worked for the Potato Marketing Board, based in Lynn. He used to go out and visit the farmers, and occasionally I'd go out with him", he says. "I used to go regularly on the train to Hunstanton and Heacham… I remember it was a hell of a long way to get out to the sea. I remember those times with very great fondness. We used to go sledging down those sand pits in Wootton Woods, when they were covered in snow. I remember my toboggan well. And then we used to go to see Castle Riding as well".

But as well as his immediate close-knit circle of family and friends, older members of his family exerted a considerable influence on his life. His great-grandfather, Charlie Fysh, was a former fisherman, and a stalwart of the old North End fishing community, who lived to the ripe old age of 95. The Fysh family can be traced back hundreds of years in the town.

North End Link: Roger's great grandfather, Charlie Fysh, pictured around 1949.  "He was a real character... a very, very funny man".

"He was a real character" says Roger. "He used to go on the radio singing slightly naughty sea shanties - and make up rude rhymes for me. He was a very, very funny man. He used to go for a walk every day of his life with his navy blue sweater and fishing cap on, and he had this big white moustache. During the war he used to sew up all his money in his trousers!"

Charlie Fysh was also an expert at the old Norfolk art of step-dancing, and his radio broadcasts included a 1957 BBC broadcast in the River and Byways of England programme. The North End Trust - which works so hard at preserving the memory of this centuries-old community - believes a tape of this broadcast still exists in the Wisbech area, but, tantalisingly, had never been able to track it down.

And then there were his grandparents, Arthur and Annie Hickman, who lived in Birchwood Street. Even after the Taylor family moved to Cornwall in 1957, the grandparents - especially Annie - remained an important part of Roger's life.

"I was very close to my grandmother. I used to come every summer holiday and stay with her. She was another one who lived a long time - she was 93 or 95 when she died. She had a very strong personality and a very strict moral code, although her politics weren't like mine - in fact, she was a little bit right win. She used to say things like "Never, ever borrow money", and "Don't ever, ever do that". I was very close to her".

Roger managed to keep in close touch even when he was in the globe-trotting superstar bracket, sending her regular postcards and visiting as often as he could.

Michael Taylor was brought up in Cornwall, and the family moved there in 1957 when his job permitted. It was in Truro that the now teenaged Roger first became serious about his music, but moved to London to begin studies in dentistry at the Royal London Hospital. Unluckily for dentistry but luckily for rock, he joined the group Smile, and then helped to form Queen. 

And as for Queen? Well, the story has so many highlights... The 40-plus hit singles, including Bohemian Rhapsody - regularly at the top of "best single ever" lists... Roger's own classic compositions such as Radio Ga Ga and These Are The Days Of Our Lives... the stunning performance at Live Aid... playing to a quarter of a million fans in Rio De Janeiro...

Roger, now set to return to Norfolk with his new band, is constantly amazed at how the Queen phenomenon lives on, even though it is now more than eight years since Mercury's death.

"Well, it'll always be the thing for which I'm best known - and that's fine by me" he says. " It was a fantastic 25 years. We were a very strong team and I'm still good friends with Brian and John".

The musician might now live "in the depths of Surrey, close to London but out in the country"... but Lynn will always be able to claim him as one of its own..

My note - this post has been collated from these sources: this original site, this photo print, and this online article.

[torturedpoetsdepartmentemployee]

I have an alternate universe Buggy that's been ratallng around in my head. A female Buggy that's like Taylor Swift, so she got into music and wants to be a singer. She spent most of her time on the Oro building up her guitar and piano skills. She stole the guitar from the musician(was aware but let it happen) and begged Roger to get a piano. She didn't inherently have the greatest vocals and got teased, specifically by Shanks. Dreams of being in front of a crowd cheering her on and singing her songs. Those dreams are what drive her. It goes hand in hand with canon Buggy’s inferiority complex and constantly seeking attention to be a star.

The reason I can imagine it is because Buggy would be the kind to right the most unhinged lyrics that TS is known for. Also a lot of her lyrics reflect Buggy.

Mirrorball - And they called off the circus Burned the disco down When they sent home the horses And the rodeo clowns I'm still on that tightrope I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me I'm still a believer but I don't know why I've never been a natural All I do is try, try, try I'm still on that trapeze I'm still trying everything To keep you looking at me

Me! - I know that I'm a handful, baby, uh I know I never think before I jump And you're the kind of guy the ladies want (And there's a lot of cool chicks out there) I know that I went psycho on the phone I never leave well enough alone And trouble's gonna follow where I go (And there's a lot of cool chicks out there)

Karma - ‘Cause karma is my boyfriend Karma is a god Karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend Karma's a relaxing thought Aren't you envious that for you it's not? Sweet like honey, karma is a cat Purring in my lap 'cause it loves me Flexing like a goddamn acrobat Me and karma vibe like that Ask me what I learned from all those years Ask me what I earned from all those tears Ask me why so many fade, but I'm still here (I'm still, I'm still here)

peace - Our coming-of-age has come and gone Suddenly the summer, it's clear I never had the courage of my convictions As long as danger is near And it's just around the corner, darling ‘Cause it lives in me No, I could never give you peace

long story short - Fatefully I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me Misery Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep And you passed right by I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides The knife cuts both ways If the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break

Never Grow Up - And no one's ever burned you Nothing's ever left you scarred And even though you want to Just try to never grow up

So here I am in my new apartment In a big city, they just dropped me off It's so much colder than I thought it would be So I tuck myself in and turn my nightlight on Wish I'd never grown up I wish I'd never grown up

Endgame - I hit you like, "Bang" We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't And I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em Reputation precedes me, they told you I'm crazy I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me

The whole of Dear Reader and most of Anti Hero. New Romantics just sounds like a pirate anthem. So definitely something Buggy would write.

Here are the albums that would be about different exes. The exes that had a lasting impact on her.

Red Hair Shanks - Debut, Fearless, and Red

Donquixate Doflamongo - Speak Now, a little of Fearless and Red.

Charlotte Katakuri - Speak Now

Sir Crocodile - 1989

Sakazuki/Akainu -folklore, evermore

Dracula Mihawk - reputation, Lover, folklore, evermore

Midnights is a mix of them. Also she falls back in love with Mihawk and Crocodile after they form the Cross Guild.

Her exes have a hard time forgetting her and its made even worse by their enemies using the songs about them to torment them. It also doesn't help that their subordinates and families listen to her songs too. I'm still figuring out the timeline. Akainu happens before Mihawk but she is so hurt by him that she wasn't able to write any songs about him until much later.

None of this is a commentary on Taylor Swift or her personal life. Just my interpretations and how they'd fit.



[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today - June 27th, 1970 - Queen Story!

The first Queen gig: Truro, City Hall, UK, with Mike Grose on bass

🔸What must it be like to brag that you were at rock gods Queen’s first ever performance? Well, quite a few people in Cornwall can, because on this very date – June 27 – in 1970 popular rockers-on-the-rise Smile played their first gig with a new line-up and a new name, Queen, at Truro City Hall, which later became the Hall For Cornwall.

Truro boy Roger Taylor told Cornwall Live: “That was actually arranged by my mother in aid of the Red Cross. We were paid £50, which was quite a lot of money back then. I’m not sure many people turned up though.”

Roger’s mum Win had placed two adverts in The West Briton newspaper on the run-up to the gig, still in the name of Smile. However, the band had already decided to play under the new name Queen – eyebrow-raising for the time.

She recalled Freddie explaining the new name at her Truro bungalow: "He just kept saying how regal it sounded.”

Sue Johnstone, a friend of the band from Truro, remembered: “We would hitch a lift back to Cornwall from the start of the M4, and on one of these occasions Freddie walked us to the bus stop and said ‘what do you think of the name Queen?’

"We thought it was hilarious because he was always so camp. And we just laughed and thought of the gay connotation immediately, but he tried to make it more acceptable by persuading us that it was ‘regal’.”

The first Queen gig: Truro City Hall, June 27, 1970

With Fred, still known as Bulsara, and bassist Mike Grose – a Truro regular at the Smile shows at PJ’s – on board, Queen was born.

The new band intended to concentrate on its own material. Mike recalled rehearsing tracks from the first album, as well as 'Father to Son' from 'Queen II' and 'Stone Cold Crazy' from 'Sheer Heart Attack' from day one.

In preparation for the first Queen concert, Freddie stayed at the Johnstone sisters’ house at Truro’s Rosedale.

Sue said: “He stayed in our attic room and Freddie would stand on his head with his legs crossed doing yoga against the wall. He had long hair and would use our heating tongs to curl his hair in the way he wanted. And my dad was completely taken aback and initially thought they were all a bit weird.”

However, Freddie and Sue’s father soon became the best of mates when Mr Mercury-to-be and his friends dug up the garden, filled it full of flowers and sorted out the lawn.

Sue Johnstone said of that debut concert and other early Queen shows: “Freddie would get up on the stage and strut his stuff like he’d been doing it all his life. He was well prepared. He didn’t just get up and sing, he got up and performed from day one. I loved Tim's voice, but he wasn't the same as Freddie as a performer"

By Lee Trewhela - June 27th, 2018

👉 Full Article 👇

https://www.cornwalllive.com/whats-on/music-nightlife/queen-played-first-concert-cornwall-1720494

Pic: Queen in 1970, on the left Mike Grose, Queen's first bassist (dies in 2019)

📸 Photographer © Doug Puddifoot

[foxes-that-run]

Dirty Harry: HIS DANCE WITH TAYLOR PAIR NOW IN LOVENEST (and)

NY LOVE ID; BOYBAND WOW MADISON SQ GARDEN

Sun [London, England], 5 Dec. 2012, p. 10. (x)

LOVEBIRDS Harry Styles and Taylor Swift sang a karaoke duet at the party after the band's gig. They teamed up to perform the Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton classic Islands In The Stream. A source said: "It was brilliant. There was a huge cheer when they got up." Taylor also sang with 1D and Ed Sheeran, 21, on Backstreet Boys' 1998 hit I Want It That Way. Ed and the boys linked up for Vanilla Ice's Ice Ice Baby.

and

The ONE DIRECTION star didn't need any prompting to join girlfriend TAYLOR SWIFT for a rendition of the famous Dirty Dancing routine after their Madison Square Garden gig in New York last week. He even had a go at the ambitious lift at the end. A source said: "It was brilliant. The song came on and they just started dancing together. "They didn't know it from start to finish, but towards the end they had a little chat, then she took a run and jumped in to his arms. Everyone was laughing and egging them on."

Byline: From PETE SAMSON, US Editor at Madison Square Garden, New York

ONE Direction cemented their status in pop's global elite as New York screamed for them throughout their sell-out show at iconic Madison Square Garden.

Two years ago Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne were preparing to perform in the final of the UK's X Factor -- where they would finish third.

But on Monday night 20,000 fans converged from every corner of the globe to watch their biggest gig yet on the hallowed Big Apple stage.

Niall, 19, told the screaming crowd: "This is the best night of our lives. You guys have travelled from all around the world and we cannot believe what has happened here tonight. Thank you so much."

The arena has hosted some of the most memorable gigs in history, including shows by Led Zeppelin, The Stones and The Doors.

And while One Direction might not match these legendary acts for musical talent, their march to global superstardom could be the most mind-blowing of them all.

The lads have broken almost as many records as hearts on their way to becoming the world's biggest boyband. Their album Up All Night was the first debut release by a British group to go straight in at number one in the US -- an achievement The Beatles could not manage.

And their second album Take Me Home flew to the top of the charts in 35 countries last month. They have flogged more than 15 million records worldwide and sold out Monday's gig in less than a minute.

Zayn, 19, summed up the band's excitement as he told the crowd: "I'm overwhelmed. I'm from a small town in Bradford.

Things like this don't happen to people like me. I owe it all to you."

Louis, 20, added: "It's hard to comprehend how far we have come." Cheeky Harry, 18, said: "This place is huge. It's incredible." And Liam, 19, added: "I see a Swedish flag and Brazilian flag. It's just amazing."

The band entered to deafening screams. By the time they finished first song Up All Night, a pair of knickers had been thrown at Harry.

These were followed over the evening by several more pairs, numerous bras -- and an iPhone.

Highlights included latest single Little Things, for which they were joined by the track's writer, Ed Sheeran, 21. And when they finished their encore with What Makes You Beautiful, even the dads in the crowd were mouthing the words.

They don't have choreographed dance moves -- but that is part of the attraction for fans. They even break halfway through shows to answer questions. And they are remarkably at ease on stage for five lads put together by X Factor boss Simon Cowell, 53, after failing as solo singers. Fans -- who call themselves Directioners -- had queued outside for 37 hours for tickets. Stephanie Marusack, 18, and sister Megan, 21, got seats in the second row after camping.

Stephanie sobbed as she said: "I'm very emotional. We slept here in the rain." Megan said: "I love them because they are so normal. They don't put themselves on a pedestal. It makes it so much easier to connect." Melissa Grebe, Megan Farrell and Kayla Dee, all 18, and Kayla's sister Erin, 14, were wearing specially made shirts. Megan said: "We love everything about them. Their hair, their voices, their looks. Especially their hair."

As the gig ended Harry told the crowd: "I have never been so proud."

The band celebrated later at New York's Hudson Hotel with family, friends and music execs.

Harry introduced superstar lover Taylor Swift, 22, to his mum Anne Cox, 44.

Liam was joined by long-term partner Danielle Peazer, 24. Zayn by Little Mix girlfriend Perrie Edwards, 19, and Louis by girlfriend Eleanor Calder, 20. Single Niall was lapping up the attention of admirers.

And as if the gig hadn't quite sealed their status, New York also hosted a global fan convention for the boys yesterday. Some had scooped golden tickets for it in a contest -- and it was clear 1D were the hottest ticket in the Big Apple.

The Sun Says -- Page Six

LOVEBIRDS SING DUET

LOVEBIRDS Harry Styles and Taylor Swift sang a karaoke duet at the party after the band's gig.

They teamed up to perform the Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton classic Islands In The Stream.

A source said: "It was brilliant. There was a huge cheer when they got up."

Taylor also sang with 1D and Ed Sheeran, 21, on Backstreet Boys' 1998 hit I Want It That Way. Ed and the boys linked up for Vanilla Ice's Ice Ice Baby.

But the US legal drinking age of 21 meant 1D's rider was limited to sweet treats, including Snickers, KitKats and cupcakes.

Harry, 18, and pop-country star Taylor, 22 -- who is worth more than [pounds sterling]100million -- headed back to her hotel after 4am holding hands.

15M albums, singles and videos sold 35 countries where 1D scored No1 8,277,475 followers on Twitter Excitement

Dirty Harry

Sun [London, England], 12 Dec. 2012, p. 14. (x)

MOST blokes would need a couple of steak dinners to persuade them to watch a rom-com with the missus - let alone do a routine from one in front of pals.

But that certainly isn't the case for HARRY STYLES.

The ONE DIRECTION star didn't need any prompting to join girlfriend TAYLOR SWIFT for a rendition of the famous Dirty Dancing routine after their Madison Square Garden gig in New York last week.

He even had a go at the ambitious lift at the end.

A source said: "It was brilliant. The song came on and they just started dancing together.

"They didn't know it from start to finish, but towards the end they had a little chat, then she took a run and jumped in to his arms. Everyone was laughing and egging them on."

Harry's a brave lad going for the lift - especially when he hasn't got a six-pack like PATRICK SWAYZE had in the film, so the missus tells me.

When they weren't throwing each other around the floor, Harry and Taylor were up on the karaoke singing with the rest of the band and pal ED SHEERAN.

It just goes to show how much Harry likes the US star.

Inseparable The pair have been inseparable since they went public with their relationship last month.

After spending three nights together in New York, the couple took Taylor's private jet to the UK to make One Direction's performance at Capital FM's Jingle Bell Ball on Saturday.

Since then, they've been holed up in a romantic cottage on the outskirts of Manchester.

A source said: "They've been there since Sunday.

"Taylor's management and security are in a nearby hotel with instructions that she will call them when she's ready to leave."

Surely they've nailed that Dirty Dancing lift by now.

[dimwitted-roseu]

HELLOOOO

another killian fic. you know it. this one was requested by one of my sweet anons 🫶🏻 so of course i had to make it reality.

reader is a princess stuck in the early stages of an arranged marriage when she meets our sweet pirate and confides in him of her sorrows.

pairing :- killian jones x fem!reader

warnings :- none

song :- love story by taylor swift (just a few lyrics are used)

"heart's desire."

"we were both young when i first saw you."

"(first name), darling; keep up would you?" King Cyril demanded as he strode over to a large ship. The Jolly Roger. It's captain and crew were allied with their kingdom and the king insisted on his precious daughter meeting their on-seas informer.

"Captain Jones, my daughter; (first name)."

The king smiled, introducing her to the pirate who looked slightly surprised at the somewhat frustrated looking woman in front of him.

A small smirk played at Killian's lips as he sized the young woman up. She was beautiful he'd admit, but a spoiled brat; he was sure.

"Your highness," he greeted, a hint of mockery in his voice as he took her hand and brought it to his lips. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

(first name) glared at him for a moment before nodding.

"And I, you. It's not everyday I get the honour of meeting our most prized ally."

With her words, King Cyril just about ran off to attend to some other duty, leaving the two to a very awkward first conversation.

Killian watched the King hurry off, a knowing smirk making it's way onto his lips as he looked back to the princess in front of him. His gaze now curious as he looked her over again. She was young. It was a surprise she hadn't been married off yet. Or maybe she had.

"Is that right? You know, you could've atleast attempted to sound happy about it, love."

He replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

(first name) folded her arms across her chest.

"Oh, I'm thrilled."

She replied snarkily as she looked around at the pirates milling about. Eyeing them, her gaze flickered back to Killian; her tone slightly curious.

"What exactly do you do, Captain Jones? For the kingdom, I mean."

He laughed in reply as he leaned against the railing of the ship.

"Oh, I provide...services," he said vaguely. "Information gathering, escort duties, the occasional raid to keep our enemies on their toes."

His grin widened, revealing a hint of mischief.

"But let's be honest, love. I'm here because your dear father thinks I can charm the information out of the enemy's leaders."

Though, his expression sobered up slightly after seeing how distracted she was while listening to him talk.

"But enough about me, what's got you so distressed? He asked somewhat gently.

(first name) blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in tone. She considered whether to open up to this stranger. But something about his genuine curiosity put her at ease.

"It's just..." she sighed, looking out at the horizon. "I feel trapped, like there's no room for me to breathe in that castle. Everyone expects me to be this perfect princess, but I don't want that life. And to top it all off, my father's getting me married to a right pompous fool."

She turned back to him, her eyes searching his face.

"Do you ever feel like you're living someone else's dream?"

Killian listened intently as (first name) spoke, his expression softening. He could relate to feeling trapped, especially given his own troubled past. When she finished, he pushed himself off the railing and stepped closer to her, placing a tentative but comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Aye. I know exactly what you mean," he said quietly. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm just playing at being a pirate captain, if it's really what I'm meant to be doing."

He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

"But then I look at my crew; moronic as they are, at the freedom we have out here on the sea...and I know this is where I belong. Even if it's not always easy."

His gaze met hers, a small smile on his lips.

"As for marriage, well...I wouldn't know anything about that."

"Thank you, that was...strangely comforting. I'll get going now. I'm sure my father will be expecting me."

She replied giving him a side smile, nodding as she took her leave.

-3 months later-

"Look straight!"

"Shoulders back!"

"Stand up tall!"

It was time for Juliet's wedding dress fitting. The old seamstress kept barking orders to the poor woman, so she closed her eyes, thoroughly annoyed by the whole ordeal.

"I closed my eyes and the flashback starts I'm standing there..."

She tried to distract herself by thinking of her husband-to-be and their lavish wedding which was planned but only images of the charming pirate filled her thoughts. She had grown closer to the man over the months as she remembered all the enticing things he had done for her.

flashback

"...on a balcony in summer air."

(first name) crossed her arms as she looked down at the pirate standing below her high window as the wind blew in.

"Are you going to come here, or do I have to drag you down myself?"

"That you were Romeo, you were throwin pebbles..."

Killian said in a raised voice with a grin, as he continued throwing small rocks at Juliet's window pane to get her attention.

"I'll have you know, that is a most inappropriate way of talking to your future Queen."

(first name) yelled back haughtily, but couldn't help the smile that made it's way onto her lips as she continued in a lighter tone.

"I'll be right down, just give me a minute."

Killian's grin widened at her response, clearly pleased with himself. He leaned casually against a tree, waiting for her to come downstairs.

"Well, make it quick, love. I haven't got all night."

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched the window, eager to see his 'future queen' again.

present time

(first name) snapped back to reality as the seamstress tightened the corset strings around her waist

"Okay, I cannot breathe."

She complained, looking at the elderly woman with a pout.

The seamstress huffed and loosened the laces a bit before stepping back to survey her work. (first name) exhaled sharply, relief washing over her as she could finally take a full breath again.

"There, that should do. Now, shall we try the skirt on?"

The old woman bustled off to retrieve the heavy silk garment, as (first name) sighed, rolling her eyes.

-fin

AN :- what do we think? is it too long tho 😔 ok bye leave comments 🫶🏻

°alo°

masterlist - next

[bitchysoulwasteland]

Hangman X Mercury!Daughter Reader

(A/n: Yet another one of my *insert a franchise* x queen band reader fics. I'm not even sorry for this. XD. It takes place modern day, so just imagine Live Aid now, basically. Also, for the sake of the fic, Jim Hutton will be an Admiral at Top Gun. Just go with it. Do not repost. Enjoy.)

The crowd roared as you, (your father) Freddie Mercury and your uncles, Brian May and John deacon, along with your godfather, Roger Taylor bowed. As you stood back up from the bow, the sound of a plane engine came overhead. You looked up and saw Jake's F-18 barrel rolling over Wembley Stadium. You laughed and shook your head and did a slight salute to him.

Five hours later, you walk into the Hard Deck and see the entire of the Dagger Squad crowded around a TV which was re-running Live Aid. You smirk when you see that everyone's eyes are glued to Queen's set, more specifically, your solo during Hammer To Fall.

"Damn, I look good onstage." you mutter to Penny as she hands you a beer and you give her the money. "Thanks." You see your other father, five-star admiral, Jim Hutton, call sign 'Bud'. You smile at him as you give a small salute.

"I say your performance, Y/n. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to see it." His soft, Irish accent came as a welcome, yet familiar, change as he pulled you in for a hug.

"It's fine, we c'n still see it. Apparently the BBC are still showing it." You say, gesturing to a TV, which had it on. Jake watched as you interacted with the Admiral. 'How the hell did you know him?' he thought before going back to watch you on the screen. He smirked as the concert set was finished and the sound of a plane thundered overhead. On the screen, you looked up and smiled, shaking your head before doing a mini salute. "I think that was quite a nice touch, personally." You say to your father who is sitting beside you and watching the screen. "Papa should be coming with the guys. I left just after they started talking to Mick Jagger."

"I think your pilot wants to talk with you, love." He said, gesturing to Jake, who had walked over. "I'll leave you two be." He walked to the outside tables and sat down.

"That was some move, Hangman." You smirked as he stood beside you.

"Glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart.” Jake responded as the Dagger Squad’s jaws dropped.

“Hi, um, I’m Y/n Mercury.”

“Thought you were going by Hutton-Mercury.” Phoenix piped up. She had been friends with you ever since you had ran into her the night you met Jake.

“Nah, Mercury on Stage, Hutton-Mercury for government shit a-“

“And Seresin everywhere else.” Jake whispered in your ear but you knew full well that everyone herd him.

“You ain’t put a ring on it, so I ain’t changing it yet.”

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Woman taken by the wind - Roger Taylor x Fem!reader

Summary: You've taken a liking to a new band and your boyfriend cant help but tease you about your recent infatuation. 

Warnings: no swearing, implied sex, mention of oral sex, minor stress, mainly just fluff

Word count: 1.6k

     Alone in your apartment, you skip over to the turntable set up in the living room and turn up the volume to fifteen. The recently released sound of ‘Rhiannon’ by Fleetwood Mac blared through your flat. You weren't a fan of the earlier stuff from the band, but with the newest addition of Stevie Nicks and Lindsay Buckingham to the group really brought a new interesting vocal and guitar sound, you couldn’t get enough of it. You heard the track that was playing from the speakers on the radio, and you demanded that Roger pull over the car so you could go get a copy of the album. 

     Your boyfriend, Roger, wasn't as much of a ‘Fleetwood Mac super fan’ as he so lovingly calls you. He preferred the heavier tracks of Jimi Hendrix, while still liking some of the softer stuff from Dylan and such. He didn’t mind when you played them, though.

     You were alone at the moment. Roger was off in the studio with the boys. He suggested you stay home this day so you don't get caught in the middle of their idiotic arguments over if the harmony should be sung with an ‘ah’ sound or an ‘oh’ sound. You had some work to do in the apartment that day, so you were fine with staying home. Your recent purchase was great background noise for your daily chores. 

     You take a moment to walk over to the turntable again and flip over the record to side B before you continue on with washing the dishes. Swaying your hips to the beat of the song, you sang along to lyrics you were able to figure out. You had most of them memorized after listening to the album a couple of times.

     Roger had always loved your dancing. You felt dorky and rarely danced in front of others, but Roger was able to bring that side of you to light. You felt free around him, even if you still felt embarrassed to dance around him.

     You dry off the dishes and put them into the cabinet. That was another chore knocked off your list. You were surprisingly productive this afternoon. You often procrastinated by saying you'll do it later or you get too invested in whatever TV show you're watching. 

     You boogie(Rogers words) out of the kitchen and bend over the dining room table, reaching for the little notepad and checking off ‘wash dishes’ on the list. You had finally finished everything you had to do, and it was only 2 pm. You flip the cardboard cover to the front of the notebook and hook the pen back into the metal coil holding it together. 

     The way you were dancing almost made you feel like a hippie. You were too engulfed in the booming music that you didn't hear the door of your apartment unlock.

     Roger enters the apartment. He could hear the music before he even reached the doorstep. He leans against the entrance frame of the living room, watching as you dance in a pair of short pj shorts and his t-shirt. He loved seeing you wear his clothes. 

     “Hey, cutie,” Roger says, and you almost jump out of your skin at the sudden sound of his voice. “What- Roger! That's not funny!” you whine. You scramble to the turntable and turn the volume down to three. 

     Roger laughs at your childish reaction. “I think it's very funny, actually,” he says with a smirk. You feel his strong arms wrap around your waist as your bent over the turntable. “Why are you turning it down, lovie?” he asks as he takes hold of your hand and turns it up to ten. 

     “Why are you home so early?” you ask, not answering his question about the volume. Roger spins you around, smiling at you as he holds onto you in a waltz-like position. “We decided to stop for today. Too much arguing,” he says. “Is that all?” you ask as you begin swaying in his hold. “And because I missed my girl,” he smiles and gives you a kiss. 

     You hum against his soft, pillowy lips. “You were only gone for a couple of hours,” you giggle. “Is it so criminal for a man to miss his woman?” Roger laughs. “If so, give me the electric chair,” he says as he spins you around, causing a small yelp of excitement from you. “Not criminal. Maybe needy,” you smirk back.

     “You look cute,” he says, laying a kiss on your lips and then your cheek. “Oh, do I?” you ask, and he hums. “Love it when you wear my shirts,” he smiles softly as he toys with the hem of the shirt. “Especially when you wear those tiny shorts,” he adds.

     “Why? Because it looks like I’m wearing nothing underneath?” you question. 

     “Yep,” he grins and spins you again. “Maybe I should send you to the chair,” you joke. “On what charges?” he asks. “Horniness,” you say. Roger's hands slide down your sides, poking at your hips. “Oh, you're not too innocent yourself,” he points out.

     You laugh and give him a kiss before pulling yourself from his hold. “Never said I was,” 

     Roger watches as you walk away from him. “Where do you think you're going?” he asks as he cocks an eyebrow. “Changing the record,” you chuckle. You carefully lift the vinyl from the padded surface and return it to the protective sleeve before you feel Roger's hot breath against your neck. 

     “You know, I was thinking about you earlier,” he whispers into your ear. You couldn't help but smirk. “What were you thinking?” you ask innocently, still keeping your attention fixed on the neatly organized display of your shared record collection in front of you. 

     “I was thinking about that little red outfit you wore on my birthday last year,” he says. You laugh under your breath. You had great memory of that night. “Mhm?” you hum, telling him to continue as you feel his hands wrap around your waist. “You had on your favourite red lipstick,” he continues. 

     “You mean your favourite red lipstick,” you laugh. Roger always loved how you looked in that specific shade of red. He loved when it smudged onto your chin, and when you would leave kiss marks all over his body with the lipstick just to get a rise out of him. “Whatever,” he chuckles.

     “And, my head between your thighs,” he whispers. “Roger!” you whine, hitting his hand like a mother disciplining their son for having a potty mouth. Your cheeks were as red as that god-forsaken lipstick. You turn around to face him, putting on a brave face as if your cheeks weren't blaring red. “And you screaming that!” he grinned. It took every ounce of strength in your body not to smack that smirk right off his face.

     “You're such a pervert,” you joke. Roger gave you a kiss and laughed. “You keep sleeping with that pervert, so you make up your mind, y/n” he hummed.

     “See, and I would ask if you were thinking about me too, but you were probably too focused on your artsy fartsy music,” he teased. You huff and cross your arms, but it was so difficult to stay mad at him when he was staring at you with those big blue eyes. “Hey, baby, don't be so mad. I like your music,” he says as he gives your cheek a kiss. You tighten your lips as you struggle to hide your smile. “There's that smile,” he hums, and you finally let it be seen. 

     “I hate you,” you mumble through an embarrassed laugh. “Love you, too, babe,” Roger smiles. He wraps his arms around you again as the sound of the second track on The Beatles album ‘Abbey Road’ begins playing. Roger nuzzles his face into your neck and gently kisses it as you sway. “Somewhere in her smile she knows, that I don't need no other lover…” he hums to you softly, and you smile yet again in response. 

     “How's the album coming?” you ask, and you feel as he shrugs. “Sort of behind schedule, but I much rather spend time with you,” he says. “Oh, Roger. You know I don't like it when you choose me over your work,” you annoyingly say. Roger sighs, and he moves his head from his neck to meet your eyes. “I know, I know. Just, you know, the constant bickering is exhausting,” he confesses.

     “I love making music, but now it's just like clockwork now,” he says. He didn't want to admit it, but he had to. “And the record company has us on a strict deadline, it's just… so stressful,” 

     You hated to see Roger like this. You remember the days when he was so excited to go to the studio and work on the albums. But now, every day he would come home more miserable than the day before. 

     “I understand,” you tell him, letting your fingers comb through his un-styled mop. “It will get better soon, I’m sure of it,” you say. “Just wait, soon you’ll be on tour, and you get to see the world and perform for thousands of fans!” you smile, hoping that the response from the fans would cheer him up. It did, in part. 

     Roger hugs you, burring his face in your neck yet again. “Thank you, y/n,” he whispers. The only thing he didn't favour about the tours is that he didn't get to see you. You both understood that it was an important part of his career and that it would get easier with time. 

     The next track, ‘Maxwells' Silver Hammer’ comes on. This one was a bit funny to you. You both giggle as the lyric “Bang Bang Maxwells’ silver hammer came down upon her head” came. 

     “You remember that thing you mentioned about the red dress and lipstick…?” you ask, and Roger smirks. “Of course, I do,” he says. “Still in the mood?” you ask. He didn't even have to answer, because the next thing you knew Roger was pulling you down the hall to your bedroom, not even bothering to turn off the record. 

[rogertaylorshbb]

'toxic' Roger Taylor x reader

summary- you and roger get into an argument but you guys make up like 20 minutes later🤭🙄💅

swearing, light smut, mentions of alcohol. [ I have no idea why I'm adding these, just makes the fanfic look more ✨professional✨]

"okay see you tomorrow!! love you!!" you yelled out to your bestfriend Chelsie as you stepped in the door of you and rogers apartment. "finally" your heard a groan, it was roger "I've been waiting for you all night". you turned on the light to see him slouched on the couch with a bottle of vodka in his hand. "your drunk" you sighed.

"maybe" he chuckled "where were you?". "I was out at that new nightclub that opened" you smiled thinking back on it. "with who?" he questioned his words becoming more intrigued. "just Chelsie and a few other friends" you said.

"Chelsie? and what other friends" he said turning his head to you. "just...people, I'm not sure, just Chelsie's friends that she kept from high school".

"what? like guys?" he questioned "guys..?" you questioned back. "where there any guys?" he stated. "Jesus rog.." you sighed. he stood up from the couch placing the vodka bottle on the table. "what? don't 'Jesus rog' me" he said mimicking your voice. "your drunk, and I don't wanna argue, go to bed".

"are you cheating on me?" he asked. "what?!, god no!" you frustratingly told him. "don't fucking lie to me y/n, I know your cheating on me!" "no!" you yelled "I know your fucking other guys y/n" roger shouted. "how-? what- why? why would I do that huh?" you shouted back. "because your a fucking slut-" roger slurred pointing a finger at you. your heart went cold, how could he? how could he call you that?.

you tried to keep calm, "your drunk roger". "So? being drunk doesn't make me a liar" he groaned. you tried to keep in your tears. "I cant hang out with my friends for one night without being a slut?? I'm cluttered with work, all I want to do is go have fun for one night, but no, I cant have fun" you stated.

"your such an idiot" he muttered. "your the idiot!" you yelled, you took a deep breath "you know what? arguing with you is childish, I'm going to out to get bread because I forgot and then I'm going to bed, sober up or not before I get back....actually I don't care, do what you want"

roger stood there while you walked off out the door. he started to really think about what he had carelessly blurted out, and the guilt in his chest started to hurt. "fuck...I am an idiot".

you walked to the convivence store 7 minutes away, getting bread from the shelf, and walking as slow as possible back to your apartment, trying to escape the awkwardness that would be there when you walked back in.

you walked back in to see roger in the bathroom brushing his teeth. you plopped the bread on the counter stumbling into the bedroom. you took off your party dress and heels and picked out a pair of pajamas. as you were looking around in the messy clothes draws roger walked in. "get out, I'm getting dress" you huffed. "what? I'm not allowed to see you naked now?" he scoffed. "whatever" you muttered throwing on an oversized t-shirt.

"I'm not so drunk anymore" roger told you. "good" you sighed. not one of you making eye contact as you both slid into bed. the tension was killing roger. "I'm sorry" he whispered "I don't think your a slut, I was just jealous". you turned to look at him. "the truth is....im scared of losing you, just the thought of you finding someone better then me terrifies me, I don't think I can live without you"

you looked into his eyes. you were speechless, you had never heard roger say anything like that. since you had no words you just kissed him, running your fingers through his hair. roger grabbed your waist, practically dragging your body over his. his hands travelled your body, reaching over to take your t-shirt off, before he suddenly stopped "oh wait...im not allowed to see you naked anymore, guess were gonna-" he chuckled, you cut him off "oh shut up" you laughed.

you dragged the t-shirt off you continuing to kiss roger. roger cupped your breasts, massaging them, making you moan into his mouth. "where are the condoms?" you smirked. "here" roger said reaching into his drawer.

he hurriedly put it on, you started to slowly sit further on further down on his cock, not trying to muffle your moans at all when you did. "fuck I love it when you moan like that" roger smiled.

-just gonna end it there-

[burtonandtaylor]

Richard Burton Interview with BBC reporter John Simpson (1977) - shortly after his 1976 divorce from Elizabeth Taylor.

I was the BBC’s radio correspondent in Johannesburg at the time when the African scenes in The Wild Geese were filmed… . The prospect of meeting Roger Moore, Richard Burton, Richard Harris and Hardy Kruger was, of course, an attractive one, though I probably didn’t mention that side of it. It would scarcely have sounded sophisticated. 

“If you remember, I asked for an interview with Richard Burton.” … I wasn’t expecting anything. If Richard Burton was too grand to have lunch with the others, he would certainly be too grand to be interviewed by me. The PR man came back looking apologetic. I was ready with a sharp reply, assuming I would be given a crisp turn-down. 

“He says if you don’t mind the mess in his caravan… . . [H]e’s just going through it a bit. That’s all.” 

He certainly was. Richard Burton’s ravaged, pockmarked face looked even harsher in reality than it did with all the care of the make-up artists. And despite the fierce sun outside he looked pale and unhealthy. 

But nothing could affect the voice. 

“Come in, come in, my dear boy,” he said, gripping my hand and pulling me up the steps… . The warmth of his tone outdid the afternoon heat. 

“Really sorry not to be down there with the others for lunch,” said Burton. “The fact is, you see, I’m on the wagon at the moment, and it doesn’t feel all that good, I have to confess… . Wish I’d been teetotal, like my old schoolmaster told me. But the stage, you know. And the company I’ve kept.” 

He gave a huge laugh, which seemed to make the entire caravan shake. It was a big one, with room enough for a sizeable (unmade) bed and a table covered with books, make-up bottles and photographs in silver frames. The biggest photograph was of Elizabeth Taylor. I had wondered how to broach the subject, after their divorce. But with Burton, whether it was because of the influence of the bundu or his free, open nature, there was no trouble at all. 

He saw the direction of my eyes. 

“Ah, Elizabeth. Isn’t she the most beautiful animal you’ve ever set eyes on?” 

… . I nodded, and felt emboldened. 

“So, you don’t feel bitter towards her?” 

“Bitter?” The caravan shook again. 

“Look, if she’d have me back I’d leave this sh—y film and this ghastly heat right now, and charter a plan to go wherever she was. Actually I know where she is. She’s in Malibu. I kind of keep in touch, you know.” 

“So why… . .?” 

“It’s the old thing: can’t live with her, can’t live without her. But I adore Elizabeth, and I always will.” 

There was a catch in his voice, and he looked out of the window at the baobab trees. 

“I don’t drink now, you know. I’m not pretending it’s not painful, but I’ve given it up for good. It was what Elizabeth hated most in me, I think, even though she’s pretty partial to it herself. It was like pouring petrol over our marriage. And now I don’t do it anymore. I hate it, in fact.” 

… . It seemed to me that a tear was glittering in his eye… . 

“What is it about her that you love so much?” 

“Ahhh,” he said expansively, waving his arms at the baobabs, “where does one start? ‘Age cannot wither her… .’ She’s a magnificent actress, you know, if only they will let her be.” 

“She’s lazy, they say, and they also say she’s not very bright, though that happens to be an outright, damned lie. It’s just that her brightness is a natural brightness, not necessarily a college brightness. She may not know all about Shakespeare or Marlowe or Albee, but she understands the emotional truth, and that is what she projects.” 

… “Director wants to know if you’re all right, Mr. Burton.” The voice was muffled by the door. 

“Tell the director to go and f—- himself. I’m reminiscing here about the divine Elizabeth, and mustn’t be disturbed.” 

“You were telling me about her understanding of the emotional truth of a part.” 

“Was I?” … “But you see, what I should have said was that she was a lass unparalleled. A woman of the most charming but also the most natural kind. She could take care of a man, you know.” 

He glanced at me. 

“No, I don’t mean that. What I mean is that she could be so normal, so natural, so caring. 

Listen. Once I took my brother and my business manager to Twickenham for the Wales-England match. Wales won; they always did in those days. And of course we had too much to drink, even my little runt of a manager. Much too much. And we came back on the Tube, and fetched up for some reason at Tottenham Court Road station. I must have said I knew a bar near there. It was late, you see, about midnight. 

There was a gang of about a dozen skinheads at the top, all tattooed with England flags on their chests and faces and arms; a rather fearsome sight. 

Well, it was too late to turn back, so we decided to take them head on. When I say we, I mean my brother and me. The last I saw of my manager, he was shouting, ‘You can’t hit me, I’ve got a briefcase.’ They gave us both a pretty good going-over. I think they were worse to me, though I don’t think they’d seen me on the screen. Maybe I was just bigger and uglier than my brother. 

And then they left us lying there at the entrance to the Tube. My brother said he thought he could manage to get home by himself, and he hailed a taxi for me. He had to do quite a lot of persuading, because my entire head was a mass of blood. But at least I didn’t seem to have any bones broken. I told the driver to take me to the Dorchester, and gave him a tenner. Which was pretty good money in those days. 

They wouldn’t let me in at the Dorchester, of course, till I told them who I was and demanded to see the manager. Then they were niceness itself, and two of them helped me to the door of our suite, though I told them to leave before I banged on the door for Elizabeth. 

But, you see, she was magnificent. Utterly magnificent. She didn’t have a fit of the vapours, she didn’t get excited, she didn’t even tick me off for being drunk and getting beaten up. 

‘Oh, you poor thing,’ was all she said, and she rang down for bowls of water and towels and bandages and God knows what. And when they sent up some kind of quack to look after me, she shooed him away. 

She sponged the blood off my face, and found that my left eye was halfway out of its socket, so she carefully put it back in. Would you ever imagine that someone like her would be able to do any of that? But she was tough, you see, and brave too. And she tucked me up I in bed with the bandages over my head, and at nine o’clock the next morning, when I was starting to feel a bit better, she ordered up a magnum of Bollinger to cheer me up. And then she sat on the side of the bed and toasted me and Wales’s victory.” 

He paused, and looked away from me and the microphone. 

“Magnificent woman, in every way. Magnificent. If I’m honest, my life is a little empty without her.” 

He thought for a moment. 

“No, if I’m honest, my life is horribly empty without her.” 

I (author) said goodbye not long afterwards, and shut the door of the caravan on him. He waved me out in the most courtly fashion, but I think he was probably glad to be left alone with Elizabeth Taylor’s picture.

[krispyweiss]

Rewind: The Byrds - Byrds (1973)

By the time the original Byrds reconvened in 1973 to put a proper cap on the band, David Crosby was a huge star, Chris Hillman and Michael Clarke were former Flying Burrito Brothers, Gene Clark was nursing a fledging solo career and Roger McGuinn was the last remaining original member of the Byrds in the lineup that recorded and were touring behind ’71’s Farther Along.

And although the Byrds LP has been much maligned in the intervening decades, the criticism is mostly unfair. The original Byrds - who hadn’t played as a quintet since 1966 - didn’t attempt to recapture their original sound; rather, they gave listeners an idea of where they were as individuals.

McGuinn was tired - writing only two of the 11 songs and turning back from country to his first love on “Born to Rock ‘n’ Roll.” Clark was hungry, writing and singing the apropos opener “Full Circle” and “Changing Heart” and leading the band though country-folk covers of Neil Young’s “Cowgirl in the Sand” and “(See the Sky) About to Rain.”

Like McGuinn, Hillman, too, returned to folk-rock music, collaborating with his Manassas bandmates Dallas Taylor and Joe Lala, respectively, on writing the driving “Things Will be Better” and the frenetic, mandolin-focused “Borrowing Time.” Crosby, meanwhile, is in the early stages of his drug-induced malaise, opting to cover Joni Mitchell’s “For Free,” re-record his own “Laughing” in an inferior redux and rewrite “Cowboy Movie” as “Long Live the King.”

In some ways, Byrds sounds more like a various-artists album than a cohesive group effort, albeit with Clarke steering it all from behind the kit. Though the songs aren’t essential, neither are any of them filler. The result is a solid effort from the rare band that closed the book on its career the right and respectable way.

For there was never another Byrds album after the Byrds album.

Grade card: The Byrds - Byrds - B

5/19/24

[m-o-o-n-thatspellsblog]

playlist(s) for any of the ka-tet members (this includes the og ka-tet if you want to pick one of them instead)?

yesss thanks for this ask!! i freaking love the dark tower so much so i kinda went a little overboard with this list lmao

og ka-tet

Roland Deschain:

Age- Jim Croce

Pretty Maids All in a Row- Eagles

Run for the Roses- Dan Fogelberg

Rock Me On the Water- Jackson Browne

Cuthbert Allgood:

For Everyman- Jackson Browne

Laugh- The Monkees

Summer, Highland Falls- Billy Joel

My Rifle, My Pony and Me- Dean Martin & Ricky Nelson

Jamie DeCurry:

Beautiful Loser- Bob Seger

Take It to the Limit- Eagles

I Want to Live- John Denver

Ripple- The Grateful Dead

Alain Johns:

You Don't Know How It Feels- Tom Petty

Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes- Jimmy Buffett

Mexico- James Taylor

Another Saturday Night- Sam Cooke

ka-tet of 19

Susannah Dean:

Box of Rain- The Grateful Dead

Comes a Time- Neil Young

End of the Line- The Traveling Wilburys

Poems, Prayers and Promises- John Denver

Eddie Dean:

Wild West Hero- ELO

American Storm- Bob Seger

The Needle and the Damage Done- Neil Young

Son of Man- Phil Collins

Jake Chambers:

A Child in These Hills- Jackson Browne

Mad World- Tears for Fears

Sounds of Silence- Simon & Garfunkel

You'll Be In My Heart- Phil Collins

Father Callahan

Lord Is It Mine- Supertramp

Tuesday's Dead- Cat Stevens

Show Me the Way- Styx

Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters- Elton John

BONUS

Walter O'Dim

Everybody Loves Me- Don McLean

Dire Wolf- The Grateful Dead

The Gambler- Kenny Rogers

The Loner- Neil Young

[faithinthiscolour]

Of Crime and Passion.

simon le bon x john taylor (!1984)

SUMMARY: Simon was always in awe of John regardless of what he did, it all soon comes to light in the heat of the moment.

CW: sex, slight arguing, a bit emotional

It was getting later in the night, Roger & Andy were back at their rooms relaxing while Simon, John, & Nick were finishing up their brand-new, almost done album titled Arena.

"I think we've done pretty well, it's our fourth album and it's a live one!" Nick professed.

"I think I'm gonna follow the others and head to bed though, I didn't really sleep too well yesterday, you two need some rest too y'know, it's been a long week." Nick said, looking between the pair.

John and Simon nodded, flashing a smile at the light haired man, soon turning their focus back to the mixing board. The two rewound the tape, just cleaning up the sound a little bit.

"Y'know, I'm glad we got to make this album happen." John said as he turned the Simon, giving him a subtle smile.

Simon felt his face become flushed, he gave John a lighthearted laugh, followed by a nod, "I'm glad too, I think it'll turn out good." He said, reassuringly.

John focused on the isolated bassline before turning to Simon, "Hey, do you thi-" John spoke, shortly before getting cut off by Simon.

"The vocals don't sound weird do they? I wanted to clean up the guitar a bit, but I know that Andy would like to do that." Simon voiced, glancing up at the man across from him.

John sighed, he leaned his elbow on the table Infront of him, "No, they don't sound weird, you sound great, Simon, don't worry about it." John said in a miffed tone.

Simon grinned at him, John began to speak again, "But, do you think it'll be a hit? I just, don't want us to-" Simon cut off John, again.

"I think we could have the bassline cleaned up just a bit more, y'know, to pull it all together" Simon exclaimed, gesturing his hands to fit what he was saying.

John looked at Simon with a harrowed look, he furrowed his brows and cleared his throat.

"Simon, stop cutting me off."

Simon looked up at John, ever so slightly squinting his eyes. "What?" The blonde asked with a vexed twinge to his voice.

"You keep cutting me off, why do you have to be in control of everything as of recently? Why do you have to so intensely plan every single thing?" John snapped as he stood up, Simon snapped back, standing up as well.

"Where is any of this even coming from?? And what do you mean in control?" Simon called out, "All I want is for this band to be stable."

"Stable? I don't need your input, Simon, I'm capable of speaking for myself." John exclaimed, putting his hand on the table.

Simon sighed, "John, I'm scared of the band falling apart, I'm scared of all the tension getting worse, I'm scared of losing this." Simon called, stepping to the tall man Infront of him.

"Losing what? What, Simon? What exactly are you afraid of losing?" John belted with an underlying pitch of worry in his voice.

"I'm worried about losing our band, goddammit John, I'm worried about losing YOU, John, that's what I'm fucking worried about." Simon said, suddenly snapping at him, stepping closer to the man.

"How do you think I feel, Simon? I don't wanna lose this band, I don't wanna lose YOU, Simon, I don't wanna lose anything." John yelled out.

Simon's eyes widened, John was never really the yelling type, let alone the type to so openly express personal feelings.

"W..What?" Simon questioned, John's hand tensed on the face of the table, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Simon, I'm scared of losing you. I know the band isn't doing too well, I know everything seems strained but, Simon, I love you."

"I love you, and I'm fucking scared of anything bad happening between us, okay? I'm fucking scared of this band falling apart, I'm fucking scared of us falling apart." John's voice trembled, his hands shaking due to adrenaline.

Simon sat down in front of him, putting his hand over John's.

"I didn't think you felt like that, I thought it was the opposite. John, I love you." Simon admitted. He then spoke in the same breath,

"I love you, John, I always have, I even loved you in those thick-rimmed glasses, I always have, John."

His hand tightened around John's. John looked at the blonde, tracing his face with his eyes.

"You feel the same way..? Simon, I want this to work, I want us to work, even if the whole band necessarily doesn't."

Simon coaxed his thumb across the back of John's hand, as he tilted his head up at him. "It will work, regardless of if the band works out, we will." The blonde promised, giving him a reassuring smile. "Y'know, you're handsome too, John, you've always been attractive." Simon expressed. "I'm flattered, you really think that?" John laughed, a slight half smile creeping from the corners of his mouth.

"I do, I always thought you were fit, you're fucking gorgeous, John." A subtle grin spread across Simon's face, John looked down at Simon, laughing as he saw him.

"I've always thought you were fit too, Simon, god I never knew that anyone could be that good-looking." John admitted. "Oh, really?" Simon teased, narrowing his eyes at John. "Reeeeaallly." John replied, rolling his eyes at the blonde, followed by a teasing laugh. "You're a tease, John, you know that?" "How so?" John questioned, looking at the blonde.

Simon stood up, grabbing John by the collar of his jumper as he pressed him against the wall, passionately colliding his lips with his into a dirty kiss. John wove his fingers in the belt loops of Simon's jeans, tugging his hips towards him as Simon's tongue took full control of John's mouth, ousting out a low moan from John's throat.

Simon stuffed his hand down John's trousers, snapping the elastic of his briefs against his skin, urking a whimper from him. The two pulled their lips away;

"Simon..." John uttered in between his labored breaths, fidgeting hastily with Simon's belt buckle.

"I know baby, I know." Simon whispered as he helped John take his belt off, John hastily unbuttoned Simon's shirt, stripping it off of him as Simon stripped off John's trousers.

Simon palmed John's cock, causing him to let out a pornographic moan throughout the studio, throwing his head back in pleasure.

John unzipped Simon's jeans, immediately grabbing his dick and jerking him at an agonizing pace, teasing his thumb across the tip.

Simon groaned out John's name, pulling John closer as they pull eachother into a lust-filled kiss, John rocked his cock up against his, urking a sexual moan from both of them.

"Simon..I need you to fuck me, please." John begged, still rocking against the blonde.

Simon moaned, leaving deep, bruising marks along John's neck down to the top of his chest, grazing his teeth across the dip of his neck.

"John, I need you..please." Simon groaned out, grabbing at John's waist.

John nodded, "Please, please Simon, I can't take it." He whined, Simon then lifted him up against the wall, holding him up by his thighs.

"Is this okay?" Simon asked, panting to catch his breath.

"Simon, please, fuck me already, I need you to fuck me.", John groaned out, Simon's dick was already slick with precum, he thrusted his cock into John, causing a loud moan to ring throughout the room.

Profanities were cursed under each other's labored breaths, Simon's nails shallowly dug into John's thighs, slowly picking up the pace inside of him.

"Simon, faster..please" John begged, Simon rocked into the brunette, causing him to sling his arms around Simon's neck.

Sweat slicked throughout their torsos as his cock slammed into him, causing an array of pornographic sounds from the pair.

John looked up at Simon with lust blown eyes before hastily kissing him, intertwining their tongues together, moaning and panting into each other's mouths.

Simon's thrusts became less consistent, while John's moans became more breathy, John leaned into Simon, clawing at his shoulders as he wrapped his legs around the blonde's hips.

"John..I'm close" Simon breathed out, his thrusts getting harder as John nodded, "I..I'm close too, Simon, cum in me, please" The brunette cried out, Simon's cock slammed into him right before cumming, John reached his climax almost immediately after Simon, his cum slicking his stomach.

The two took a minute to catch their breaths before John stood up, the pair embraced each other into a passionate, loving kiss.

"You think we should clean up?" Simon asked

John smiled at him, "We probably should, y'know, I'm still shocked you feel the same."

The two laughed as Simon grabbed a paper towel, sharing lighthearted kisses planted across each other's faces.

"I love you."

"I love you too."