#And you just know Kate took the bait | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kitmoas · 2 years

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Two sides//Same Coin

Summary: Sometimes divide and conquer is the best plan of action

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader | Kate Bishop x Natasha Romanoff | Kate Bishop x Reader | WandaNatKate x Reader

Word Count: 8.8K

Warnings: Public Sexual Acts (All characters are consenting adults), Weapon Play, Magic Play and...a very fun important spell is used on Toy , Filming, Boot kink, Degradation/Humiliation *As usual, if I forgot anything important lemme know*

A/N: lol we wont talk about how long this took for me to write 🙂Thank you for anyone who is still around and stuck around for this update! Love you guys SO much 💜

Training Grounds Master List

***Minors DNI*** ***18+***

Smirking slightly, eyes locked on the bare skin of Wanda’s knee just inches from your face, as your body sways. You’re in a mood today and you know you were already pushing the boundaries, but you just can’t help but want to break every rule. The witch had just about had it with you, ordering you to follow her around on your hands and knees after you had bitten her ankle aggressively while she was on the phone. It wasn’t your fault though, she’s the one who had you kissing her legs as payment for you eating ice cream for breakfast. Her ankle was just there, and if she was going to treat you like Kate then so be it.

Wanda is typing away on her laptop, something about some stupid business contract that she and Natasha were reading through, and it’s making you grumpy. Every single time you got to hang out with the two lately they have been busy. The two were extremely excited but wouldn’t give you any real details, so you were not only being left in the dark but also neglected. She had you kneeling, widely and comfortably which was generous considering your attitude, but it was doing nothing for your headspace and it just made you even more mischievous.

Your stomach is quietly rumbling, and you know you’re supposed to ask for a snack especially when you’re already actively in a punishment but you don’t want to eat something healthy. Looking around you notice some of the candy that was left over from the movie night, the moment you scoot to the left a hand reaches out and tangles in your hair. With a sharp painful yank, you’re staring directly into the unamused emerald eyes but you just giggle. “You have been pushing every single one of my buttons today, Detka. My work is very important, and I thought you would have been a good girl while your Daddy and I got everything together.”

Her words are tense, and you can tell she’s trying to not start something that will last long, but you just smile innocently up at her. “I am being an angel, Mommy.” The taunt leaves your lips like poison, and you can see your bait taking when Wanda snarls down at you. “Maybe you’re just getting old and can’t keep up anymore, did ya ever think of that?” The infamous head tilt strikes a fear response within you, but you hold strong. “Losing your touch, Wanda?” The name is out of your mouth before your brain can catch up, before your body can start running.

By the time it dawns on you just exactly what you said, the witch’s face is blank. Her grip in your hair is slack, straightening in her seat. She silently turns back to her work, the sound of her keyboard clicking confusing you. What just happened? She was taking the bait, your act was working. You were just about to get what you wanted. Flabbergasted you stand slowly, cautiously as you were still technically being punished, but nothing. A pout forms on your lips as you slowly back away, heading straight to the candy. Again nothing as you pick the box up, and you know that even without her powers she could hear you jiggle the box around. Huffing you walk back to her side, plopping down unceremoniously, and make a huge show of shoving a large handful of the chocolate bites into your mouth.

She barely flinches, her focus entirely on the document she’s working on. You slump down in your spot, the box of candy falling from your grip. Guilt starts to tug at your brain as your actions of the day start sinking in. Did you break a boundary that you weren’t prepared to? Leaning forward you tentatively let your head nudge against Wanda’s thigh, sighing softly when she doesn’t push you away. You nuzzle your nose there, inhaling her scent for a while. She hasn’t pushed you away yet, and she’s letting you find comfort but do you even deserve it? A whine breaks through your lips at the lack of response you’re receiving, and the hot remorseful tears fill your eyes. You knew that you shouldn’t have been a brat. You knew that Mommy didn’t like brats, but you just got so bored and wanted the attention you weren’t receiving. Your hands shake as they hover around her calf, unable to convince yourself to reach out for comfort. Burying your face into the side of her thigh, you try your hardest to control your emotions but the tears are soaking her pants.

The soft hand on your head, rubbing soothing circles, startles you. “Little one, are you done being a brat?” Her voice is calm, and you can see her scarlet mist circling around you. A pathetic nod is her only answer and her magic wraps you up, dragging you onto her lap. “Look at me.” Your head is moving to make eye contact with her, even without the help from her finger. “ Мой красивый ангел, Я люблю тебя. No matter how bratty you get, you are mine. Now, you aren’t getting away with it but I do think those bad thoughts were enough punishment for now; can you agree?” Her eyes are soft, searching yours slowly. A miserable sob leaves your lips as you nod swiftly. Her face softens even more as she pushes you to rest your head on her shoulder.

You sit in her lap for a while, letting her warmth and steady breathing calm you down. “I’ll be here for you, no matter how bratty or sarcastic you get. You always deserve my affection and my comfort, Little One, no matter what. I know you’re bored, and you feel left out, but your Daddy and I are trying our hardest to get a surprise finished. You will know everything when it is time for you to know everything.” You’re nodding, letting your thumb slip into your mouth. The exhaustion of all your emotions begin catching up with you, and your eyes are fluttering shut. “Sleep detka. I’m right here.”

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Kate rolls, skin sticking to the mat as she grumpily pushes herself into a sitting position. Resting her arms on her knees, she stares up at the smirking widow. “Aren’t you a black belt mutt? A master of many different martial art techniques? All I see is an uncoordinated, unfocused, cocky new recruit.” The mocking tone of the older Avenger makes the brunette grumble as she stands, stretching out her tense muscles. Forest green eyes twinkle with excitement as she watches the brunette drop into a fighting pose, walking towards her discarded bag. “How about we up the ante?”

The ginger smirk gets more arrogant as she spins back around to look at the archer. She has a rich purple collar hanging from her finger, a gold name tag with “хозяин’s Little Mutt” engraved on it. “You win, and you get to make the decisions tonight. I win and you have no control for the rest of the day, over anything.”

Natasha smiles at the wild look in Kate’s eyes, the competitive archer bouncing on her toes at the idea of a prize. “You’re on, old lady.” The collar barely falls into the duffle bag when the ginger’s legs are swept out from beneath her, grunting before quickly flipping back onto her feet. “Losing your touch widow? Maybe you should leave the training to the new generation.” The assassin is glaring up at the archer, who is just giggling down at her.

It doesn’t take much more for the two to start slamming into each other. For once Kate is actually holding her own, her entire focus on the competition put up. She feels strong and sharp, her hits land accurately and the young archer even got a few deflections in. The young brunette’s confidence gets higher the longer she believes that she is doing great, and it makes her work harder to try to keep up with the widow.

Natasha lets Kate take control of the spar session, letting her gain confidence in her abilities, but the moment that Steve walks in the ginger slams the brunette onto her back. Without even looking back the older woman stands and starts walking over to the super soldier, “I wouldn’t get up if I were you. You’ll be on your hands and knees for the rest of the day.”

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The warmth of the sun streaming through the curtains wakes you up slowly, a muffled whine tears through your teeth as you stretch. You barely have time to settle back into the plush blankets before Wanda is slipping into the room carrying a tray of food. A bright smile stretches across her face when she notices that you’re awake, “Oh good! I thought I was going to have to deal with a grumpy little one.” Her teasing voice makes you whine, wiggling in your spot as you try to hide your blush.

You relish in the cute giggle you receive, watching as her nose scrunches. She’s setting the tray near your feet, sitting on the bed as she looks over the spread she brought; waffles, fruit, bacon, eggs, apple juice, and coffee. Her face is slightly flushed, hands shaking some as she starts cutting up the waffles.

A wave of guilt from earlier washes over you, a knot forming in your gut. “Mommy..I’m sorry for being bratty all day.” Your voice trembles as you try your hardest to keep your emotions at bay. Wanda finished work, cooked food, and you know she cleaned as she always does all while you napped—even though you had been so disobedient all day. “I know you and Daddy would never do anything to purposefully be rude or disrespectful, and I know that you guys will answer every question I have when it’s time for me to know everything.” Tears well up in your eyes and the knot that formed in your stomach is traveling upwards, making it hard for you to speak.

You watch as she gnaws at her bottom lip, a nervous tick that she picked up from Natasha. She’s staring determinedly at the plate, trying to gather her thoughts as she finishes the task at hand—feeding you.

It doesn’t take too long, but the heavy silence drowns you as you wait for her to turn to you. Her emerald eyes unfocused as she reaches out to hold your hand, soft fingers drawing whimsical shapes along the inside of your wrist. It isn’t often that you see Wanda completely dumbfounded but it confounds you every time it happens. “You know whenever Natasha and I first talked about opening our relationship we thought it was going to be just for a short period of time, just an occasional one night stand that made our time in the bedroom a little less tiring.”

Her lips stretch into a small smile, chuckling to herself as she recalls the past. Wanda is mindlessly pushing around food, poking at different bites. The way she spoke about her relationship with the ginger widow usually made you swoon, absolutely enamored with them, but today it just made you apprehensive. “ Malyshka you were never meant to happen, my love.” She finally turns to look at you, dropping your hand in lue of reaching out to cup your cheek. “When your Daddy and I realized just how much of an impact you were on us, we decided that we could no longer just worry about ourselves. The world is not a kind place, as we all know, but we happen to be in a specific part of the world that is just a bit more callous.”

Her smile is no longer light, or reminiscent, but grim and it pulls on the lump in your throat. “You already know that we set up a plan in case something were to happen to us while we were on a mission.” The statement hangs in the air as it always does whenever the possibility of them not coming back from a mission is brought up. Her thumb catches a tear that rolls down your cheek, “Don’t worry detka this isn’t about that. This is actually something happy, I’m sorry for going down that sad road.”

Wanda had a habit of getting lost in melancholy thoughts, even when she’s being positive. You adored her for it weirdly enough, but right now the fragile state of your heart was apparently making it difficult. “Little one, you coming into my life has changed how I see the world. I no longer am only stuck in the past. The future—our future in my mind is one of the brightest things I’ve ever been a part of, and I just… I need you to be patient with me? I know you feel like I’m acting differently and that I’m too busy for you, but I need you to know that at the end of the day everything I do is for you. I promised Nat that I would keep our little secret under wraps but it will be amazing that much I can guarantee.” Her face is bright red, and she is refusing to meet your gaze.

Her rant lingers between the two of you, but before you can really form an opinion and response the witch is turning and feeding you small bites of the breakfast.

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Natasha groans a bit as she stretches, pleased to finally have her feet up. Training not just for herself anymore tires her quicker than she’s used to, but the new generation needs a lot of work. She watches as the young avengers and agents file into the room, a smirk plastered on her face as she watches their shocked expressions get even more wild as they find their co-leader. Kate is on her hands and knees, collar snug around her neck, acting as a footrest for the widow. Peter is sitting next to Kate, trying to make her feel a bit better since this is the first time the Young Avengers will be seeing her in such a position.

The younger agents and heroes all have a faint blush along their faces as they try not to stare, but Kate’s entire torso is bright red as she glares at the floor in front of her. How could she lose? The archer rolls her eyes at herself as she realizes that she played directly into the older ginger’s plan of getting overly confident. The brunette is pouting as Tony begins to talk, explaining the new process and what will be happening now that the young recruits are officially training and preparing for missions. With Peter and Kate being the only two who have spent time with the OG Avengers, the rest of the team buzzed with excitement especially when the infamous Nick Fury stepped up to speak to the group.

With all eyes now on Fury, Natasha decides now is the best time to jump into action. Pushing Kate’s head down, forcing her forehead to the cold titles, the widow smirks at the curve to the younger girl’s back. Setting her feet on the floor the widow leans down close to the archer, “Just be lucky that your little team doesn’t have to see you stripped down for me. I know that little needy pussy is dripping already, my pathetic mutt likes the humiliation don’t you?” The ginger’s voice is sharp, coming out as a hiss; her lips moving against the younger girl’s ear.

Swallowing down the whimper that threatens to tumbles from her throat, Kate’s wide eyes flicker around trying to gauge the attention that she has. Only a couple people, all lower level agents, are focused on her. Her breathy response “Yes, хозяин” makes the widow laugh as she taps her foot onto the ground, clearing her throat as an indication of what she wants.

A faint hiss falls from Kate’s mouth the moment her covered center makes contact with Natasha’s cool leather boots. Even with the layer of clothes, a small streak of wetness is left apparent on the widow’s shoe. Peter adverts his eyes almost immediately, trying to not choke on his surprise. It isn’t the first time he’s seen someone do something like this, but it’s the first time his best friend has done it in front of him.

The archer is grinding down on the boot before she’s even told, hips moving subtly but effectively. Pulling her lip between her teeth, a feeble attempt at being quiet. “Look at my good little mutt. Your training is coming along nicely.” The praise runs deep in Kate, making her wiggle in her spot. A choked back moan tumbles from her lips when her throbbing clit rubs against the rough lip of the boot’s outsole.

“Look at your team—“ Kate’s head is forced up by the rough fingers tangling in her hair, nervous eyes scanning across her recruits as they all pointedly look away from her kneeling form. “Even after prepping them for this, you found some of the most innocent college kids I’ve ever met.” The chuckle that leaves her lips sends a shiver down Kate’s spine, causing her hips to rut more aggressively. “Don’t worry, I know with a nasty little bitch like you it won’t be long until your entire team is just used to you being my whore as everyone else.”

The widow watches as the young brunette’s hips start to lose their rhythm. Scoffing at her, Natasha slips her foot out from under Kate causing her to lose her balance. A deep flush of embarrassment covers the archer’s body as everyone’s heads whip around to look at her. The older Avengers all just easily move on with their lives but the newest recruits all struggle to bring their attention back to the director.

Natasha ignores the look that Fury shoots at her, instead choosing to focus on Kate who is now panting and squirming around. The widow even decides to ignore him as he begins to talk to her, whispering praise against the raven hair instead. ‘Romanoff, I’m starting to agree with your little girlfriend. The stray is always out of control.” His voice bellows out, looming in the air, heavy against Kate's ears and it drags a feeling of dread through her body.

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A muted sigh leaves Wanda’s lips as she watches you from across the kitchen, licking at the spoon of brownie batter she gave you. The entire day has been weird, but the few thoughts she’s heard from you let her know that it’s all in her own head. She knows you’re still nervous, scared to do anything wrong, but that was the usual case any time you got in trouble.

Spinning around in a quick circle you look for Wanda, eyes gleaming when you finally see her leaning against the doorway. “The batter is yummy Mommy!” Holding the empty spoon out towards the witch prompts her to finally cross the room, pushing into your personal space until your back is against the counter. The squeak that tumbles from your lips makes her chuckle, her gaze stuck to your mouth as she reaches up to swipe her thumb across your bottom lip.

You giggle up at her as she just stares at you, an awe stricken look written all over her face. Rushing to wrap your mouth around her thumb, letting your tongue lick at the drops of batter there, you can’t help but squirm as you watch her eyes darken. A bright smile stretches your lips around her thumb, and there’s an unexplainable lightness as the two of you just exist together. You reach up, letting both of your hands wrap around her wrist, as she helps you slide up to settle on the counter.

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, watching you wiggle on the cold marble. Her other hand is rubbing against your hip bone, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip as she struggles to say what is on her mind. “Detka you… I..” Wanda lets her forehead rest against yours, eyes slipping closed as she chuckles, a breathy light sound that has you giggling along with it. “Mo-Mommy’s precious Little One.” A gentle kiss on the tip of your nose draws another chortle from you, nuzzling into her palm as you feel your body fill with a fuzzy warmth. The soft streams of sunlight bounces against the sparkling jade of Wanda’s eyes, a sight you can’t help but admire.

She’s invading your space, forcing you onto your back as she climbs onto the counter. Struggling to breathe as she kisses up your body, rushed and mumbled mantra “m-mine” spoken against your skin like a flame. Her movements are strategic, slow and precise, drawing ragged gasps from you as the anticipation causes your heart to stutter.

The world around you completely slows down and you know your heart just had to have stopped the moment that the witch’s eyes are looking down into yours. She’s smiling bashfully as her eyes cloud with emotions. Your entire head empties, almost as though someone opened the floodgate on your thoughts letting them fall out onto the floor. Goosebumps spread across your whole body, sending little shakes throughout your nerves but you don’t pay any attention to them–too focused on the Sokovian.

Nothing else mattered anymore as Wanda hovered over you, her bronze hair surrounded the two of you. Unable to blink, scared to even miss a single moment of her attention on you. When her lips meet yours, a passion behind them that she saved just for you and Natasha, she pulls a whimper from you. The way her body molds into yours and her lips move with such sensual vigor leaves you melting into the counter, helpless to the witch. It’s second nature, your body reacting to her, as though you were made for her.

She had to know what her kisses did to you, the way her tongue glides along your bottom lip leaves you breathless. Giving just enough to keep you wrapped up in her, but never enough to leave you with an air of arrogant confidence. She never truly asks for what she wants, but leaves you begging for her to force her way into your mouth. The tender grip on your jaw surrenders you helpless as she keeps you right where she wants you. Everything she ever does commands respect, and at the very core of it—your submission.

Intoxication is the only way you can explain it, your mind swirls and blurs the moment her lips graze against you. Whenever her thoughts and actions landed on you, enthrallment bubbled within, leaving you giddy and eager for more. When her hands map out your skin, claiming it as her own, she leaves wildfires in their wake. Burning her mark into you and ruining you for any one who dares to come after her. .

You weren’t sure how long you were laid up on the counter, Wanda groping at your body always left you fuzzy, but it was both of your phones buzzing loudly that broke the two of you apart. A pathetic whine tears through your teeth as she pulls away from you, your foggy brain trying to catch up with what was happening. Sprawled out underneath her, you attempt to catch your breath as she towers over you on her knees. A deep, mocking chuckle shoots shivers down our spine as she reads the text you both received.

Her sharp manicured nails scratch at your torso as she flips the phone around to show you the pictures that were sent into the group chat. “Looks like your stray lost a bet, detka.” You’re trying your best to focus on the screen but Wanda’s hips have begun to grind down onto you.

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The last of the young agents and recruits leave, following Peter out of the conference room, by the time that Natasha has dragged Kate on top of the table. She ignores the grumbles of Steve, rolling her eyes as he complains about getting behind on mission reports. “If you don’t want to see the show all you have to do is walk out, Flag Boy.” She darkly chuckles as she watches the archer settle as best as she can on her knees, squirming against the solid marble. The widow climbs fully onto the table, kicking off random objects as she walks slowly across it.

Kate’s head is tilted down, knees spread as she sits as pretty as possible for the widow. The feeling of cold metal tapping against her chin forces her gaze up, tipping her head back until it’s uncomfortable. The ginger sees a flash of fear in the younger girl’s eyes, “Oh you’ve never played with this before. Well I wouldn’t worry, mutts like you always love playing with a good stick.” Natasha’s sole roughly connects with the brunette’s clavicle, sending her sprawling onto her back.

Natasha watches foggy navy eyes dart back and forth, a futile attempt to stay alert. Someone behind them moves, sending a scraping sound echoing through the hushed room. Kate flinches and the Russian’s eyes narrow taking in the reaction, but the archer’s jaw is slack and nonsensical pleading falling from her lips sparks action. Letting the end of her baton trace the young Avenger’s bottom lip as she tries to get up, propped on her elbows with wide clouded eyes. “Don’t pay those stupid boys any attention, моя маленькая сучка. All of your focus should be on me, be a good girl and open that pretty mouth just a bit more.”

Kate blinks up at the ginger, confusion flooding her system and drowning out any uncertainty. Why was she being so nice, is this not part of the scene? Her hesitation, though only a few seconds, irritates the assassin. The archer’s heart stutters when the end of the baton is shoved past her teeth, scraping roughly against her tongue. Boots kick open her legs as Natasha steps in between, before one settles on her stomach pushing her to lay flush against the cool table. “Relax little mutt.” The muttered reassurance only loud enough to reach the young girl’s ears as the pressure on her stomach gets more intense. “Get your хозяин baton all wet, even though I know there’s no real need. Your pathetic pussy doesn’t need any help, soaking through your flimsy leggings. I haven’t even begun to fuck you and yet you’re making such a mess.”

The more Natasha talks she can see the cloudy look return in Kate’s navy eyes, and the tension leaves her body. “Why don’t you be a good bitch, go ahead and strip for me.” The archer starts trying to get up but the ginger doesn’t take her baton out of her mouth, only pushes it further into her mouth. “Nuh uh, I said be good. Show off your training, a good mutt doesn’t drop their stick.” Taking her boot off of the younger girl’s stomach, amused green eyes watch as she struggles to get her clothes off.

When Kate finally spreads her legs, free of confinement, there’s a collective soft gasp when the room sees just how wet she is. Pulling the baton out of the brunette’s mouth to give her a brief moment of relief but her hips jerk when metal rubs against her inner thigh. “Awww it looks like we have a bit of an issue.” Natasha kneels between her open legs, swiping her thumb across her clit. A pathetic whimper escapes the acher’s mouth, against her own will, and the mocking laughter that follows makes her entire body flush. “It looks like I forgot to bring your favorite strap, oh no! What ever should we do?”

She’s speaking, the derisive tone, not only to Kate but to the entire room. Unhappy about a specific presence, but ready to show off just a little, Natasha slips two fingers easily into the brunette. “How cute, such a needy little cunt. You don’t even need any prep.” Pumping her fingers, watching with a cheeky grin as she sneaks a third finger into the mix. “It’s like you want to be used in front of all your heroes. Spread so they can see your dripping pussy sucking in my fingers, begging to be filled by something else.”

Anyone in the room could see the struggle on the CEO’s face as she tries to silence her moans, but the filthy sounds of Natasha’s fingers fucking into her is a clear giveaway. “It’s so cute that you think an adorable little slut like you can stay quiet, what if i just…” Roughly yanking her fingers out, her eyes get stuck on how Kate’s hole gapes. A pitiful whimper accompanies the archer’s hips jerking up, trying to chase after the widow’s fingers.

Natasha chuckles, a deep and voluptuous sound, as she brings the wet digits to Maria’s mouth. Her emerald eyes stay on the archer’s reaction, watching as she clenches around nothing and squirms at Hill’s appreciative hum. As the commander mumbles out some praise and thanks, the Russian lets the tip of her baton tap against Kate’s prominent clit.

Leaning down to cup the brunette's jaw, hanging open as she tries to catch her breath, Natasha smiles widely before spitting directly into her mouth. A small drop runs down Kate’s chin, “Such a messy mutt.” Letting her thumb pop into the CEO’s mouth to distract her just enough that when the ginger slips the tip of the baton into her it draws a squeak. “Stop squirming slut, wouldn’t want me to slip and accidentally electrocute you or would you?” Panicked moaning is muffled by the thumb still in Kate’s mouth, pushing further the more noise she makes.

Everyone in the room can hear how wet the young Avenger is with each rough thrust of the baton, even with her mouth filled her moans are echoing throughout the room. “I bet you like all the eyes on you, don’t you?” Natasha’s question is met with muted yes, but it isn’t good enough for her. Dragging her thumb out of her mouth and swiping a knife from the table, Kate barely has enough time to gasp before she feels the sharp blade against her neck. “I taught you enough tricks to know you know how to speak, bitch.”

Choking back a sob, the archer scrambles to answer. “I do! I love everyone watching me.” Her voice is strained, trying to avoid the way the knife pricks her skin as it leaves small cuts across her throat. “Пожалуйста хозяин.” Cobalt eyes darting around, looking for someone to help but all the other Avengers are just enjoying the show.

The edge of the blade trails down her torso, leaving bright red lines. Crimson leaking down her ribcage, a cough gets the widow’s attention. Head whipping around, but her thrusting never stops, as she makes eye contact with one of her best friends. “I don’t see you complaining anymore Stars, your pole is pretty tall right now.” Natasha rolls her eyes, a disgusted groan falling from her lips as she watches Steve flush in embarrassment.

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Her magic is gentle as it tightens around you, lifting you into the air forcing you to follow behind the witch. Settling into the soft cushions of the couch makes you feel at ease, gazing up at your Sokovian as she mutters something under her breath. Her crimson eyes are scanning down your body, the mystical mist swirling around you two as she finishes what you realize is a spell.

By the time she finally makes eye contact with you the forest green you adore is back, and you smile cheekily up at her. Wanda turns on the television, before settling behind you in the corner of the large couch. You’re dragged flush against her and you shiver as her breath hits your ear. “Look at the screen Detka.” Displayed on the screen is the groupchat where Natasha has FRIDAY sending you live updates of the meeting that she was in, but instead of boring notes you notice different videos and pictures of Kate. She’s in flimsy clothes and before you know it she’s on table getting played with.

You aren’t even aware of how audible the whines coming from deep within your throat are, entirely too focused on the grumpy feeling of being left out. Cold hands slip under your shirt causing you to flinch, but the witch is rubbing comforting circles on your soft stomach. “Now Little One, settle down and Mommy will help you.” Her nails are dragging slowly and softly across your torso, tickling slightly. It’s light and usually it wouldn’t do that much for you, but your body is reacting a lot and it causes your head to swim. “You’re already so squirmy, Toy. What’s got you so worked up?” Her voice is entirely too sweet, but your brain is already so fuzzy.

Eyelids heavy and your jaw slack as you just whimper pitifully. Trying to shove your face into her neck but her free hand grips your jaw, squishing your face as she forces you to look at the television again. She drags her nails up, giggling as your hips jerk the closer she gets to your breasts. Scratching across a strained nipple, Wanda chuckles as you whine and gasp freely but awkwardly with your scrunched up mouth. Palming at your other neglected breast, and purposely letting her arm rub against the breast she just abandoned, the brunette nips at your shoulder. “Do you want to know a secret?”

She’s moving your head, forcing you to nod but praising you nonetheless. Her hand is traveling back down your body now but you can feel her magic now, vibrating against you as it gains power and grows. The fire that Wanda leaves whenever she touches you burns, bright and everlasting, but the way her magic sets your entire body ablaze was unmatched. Nothing felt better and it always immediately left you needy.

Her hand is slipping into your pants, glad to have dressed you in loose clothing. She’s letting her fingers press into you as she purposefully moves flamboyantly inside the baggy sweats. The heat radiating from your dripping cunt can be felt even through your panties, useless as they were now ruined. Dragging her nail across the waistband of your cute purple underwear, courtesy of Kate, she uses her grip on your chin to turn your head some. Licking a stripe up your cheek, leaving a kiss on your temple as she smiles widely against you. “I can’t take all the credit for how drenched you are, Мой красивый ангел.” Her eyes flick towards the television, chuckling as she watches Natasha thrust the baton into the archer. It’s wet and filthy, even without the audio you can see the way the younger brunette is dripping onto the table.

Your fuzzy mind struggles to comprehend her words, eyebrows scrunching as you try to shake your head free. The witch just tuts, humming at your measly attempt at breaking out of her grip. “Mommy…please” Your plea is jumbled, distorted by how she’s squishing your cheeks up and leaving your mouth hanging open. Drool has started falling from your lips, leaving wet marks all over your shirt.

Even though she hasn’t touched you, you can feel the coil in your stomach is tight. The warmth in your belly is steadily rising, spreading through your body. She’s pressing against your pelvis now, letting her fingers leave impressions as she plays with your reactions. “Moooommy pleaseee” Her voice taunts you, a high pitched fake whine falling from her overly pouty lips.

Cloudy unfocused eyes try their hardest to search the room for anything that would give you an idea to help you persuade her to touch you, but all you see is the scarlet mist starting to settle across the entire couch. Tapping against your squishy cheek is your only warning as Wanda shoves your face back towards the screen, “Don’t worry little one, your Daddy will take care of you. Mommy is just here to make sure everything goes as planned.”

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Watching as Kate’s body stretches to take the baton makes Natasha chuckle, but each time someone moves the archer’s muscles tense. “Still paying so much attention to those around you, little bitch? When you should be completely and fully focused on me?” Snarling down at her, the widow moves her beloved weapon faster. “I know you’re close, and I know deep down you’re already ready to beg me to cum but my sweet naive little mutt won’t be asking me. You like everyone else’s eyes on you so much so go ahead and ask them.”

Kate’s eyes widen, body flailing a bit but the sting of the blade piercing her collarbone makes her freeze. “Хозяин, please I’ll be good.” Her body is obviously betraying her as her thighs start shaking, and broken whimpers falling from her lips as she babbles incoherently. Forest eyes blink, slowly and intently, listening to the mumbled words.

The ginger just hovers above her, leaning heavier and heavier against her collarbone. A smug, entirely too wide smile stretches Natasha’s face. Letting the knife clatter as she drops it onto the table, the assassin leans up onto her knees before pulling the dripping wet baton out of the younger girl. “Knees now.” The command is muttered, barely audible as she waits for the brunette to shakily pull herself up. Tangling the raven hair into her fist yanking her head back until all the room could see her tear stained face, flushed as her entire body heaves trying to regain composure.

An absolutely filthy moan tears through Kate’s throat when the widow lightly taps the baton against her clit, a small shock of electricity shooting through her body. Her entire body lurches forward, almost tumbling face first into the table but the fingers tangled in her hair keep her up on her knees. “Show off that pretty face, mutt. They all want to see it.” The baton slips a bit as Natasha tries to push it back into the archer, leaving the girl shaking in anticipation. Letting the cool metal slide through the wetness, dragging ragged breaths from the brunette before pushing the baton back into her.

Not letting her have a moment to re-adjust, Natasha puts her entire body into rutting the weapon into Kate immediately dragging her back dangling over the edge. The pace is brutal, but it drains all of the archer’s thoughts and pulls her back under the fog. Her ocean eyes glaze over as she lets her body sway and jerk along with the widow. “Be a good slut and ask these nice people if you can come for them.” The widow’s mouth grazes against her ear, relishing in the trembles that wrack the brunette’s body.

It takes a few minutes and a few different tries as Kate sobs her way through asking each Avenger and agent in the room, struggling through moans. Natasha mostly just gives silent praise with each person that she gets through until she sees Carol sitting forward, a muted excitement as she waits for her turn.

A cold glare goes ignored as the captain’s entire focus is on Kate, so when it’s her turn the widow yanks the archer’s head up painfully–cutting off her words. “Now now Little Mutt, you wouldn’t wanna do something to make me mad at this point of time; would you?” The tone of her voice makes the brunette babble, sobbing out apologies and promises to skip the Kree hybrid. Once Natasha is satisfied and her counterpart has continued asking permission to the last bit of the group, the ginger focuses on pushing her farther over the edge.

Rough and scratchy voice almost completely pulls Kate from her warm fuzzy mindset, drying her eyes almost immediately as she fights against her instincts. The way her handler is fucking into her distracts her just enough, but as the older agent speaks the nerves near the base of her neck sends pain running along her body. He’s toying with her, acting like he isn’t sure if she should be allowed to cum. Everyone else is loving it, eating up his confidence to mess with Romanoff’s property, but only the ginger sees the internal battle that the young Avenger is having.

“Enough. You’ve lost your privilege, such a pathetic excuse of a man can’t even make up his mind.” She’s pulling Kate up, letting her adjust so that she’s comfortably laying back against her torso. The widow has her hand wrapped tightly around her throat as she thrusts the baton, roughly and as best as she can at such an awkward angle. “Ignore the rest of them little mutt. You can cum, you’re going to cum. Just for me now.” It doesn’t take much more, just the whispering against the raven haired girl’s ear to let her fall beneath that foggy wave in her head. “Cum for your хозяин. Be my good girl and cum for me.”

It’s all too much, all too quick, as Kate’s brain starts drowning underneath the weight of her own thoughts. Her brain is fighting against the warmth and the mist that Natasha is trying to settle her into, and it’s frustrating as her body hasn’t quite caught up to her thoughts. She earned this orgasm but she won’t be able to enjoy it if her brain won’t shut off. Unsure of when a steady stream of tears started flowing down her cheeks, Kate wasn’t even sure of her own feelings and couldn’t sort her own brain out.

She knew that her body was nearing the end of its ability to fight off the impending orgasm, and she wanted it more than anything–no she needed it this time. Through the war in her brain the archer doesn’t even realize that her body is shaking, cumming around the baton. She doesn’t even register that she's babbling out thank yous, or slouched bonelessly against Natasha. Kate doesn’t even take note of the praise, only coming back to the present when the widow’s baton leaves a searing line along her torso.

Her eyes finally focus as she takes in the now empty room, abs still twitching from the shocks from the baton. “There’s my mutt, I thought you would be stuck in your head forever.” The widow’s voice is quiet, mumbling against her shoulder where she is looking down at her body. Slowing trailing the cum covered baton across her thighs. “You did so good for me today, but your brain went somewhere.” Blue electricity snaps as it travels along the baton, nipping at Kate’s thighs in bursts of pain. Strings of cum acting as the perfect conductor to supercharge the strikes, the pain sending the archer deeper into the fog she was searching for earlier.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your legs were spread open, Wanda’s overlapping them to keep you as still as possible. Her arm was wrapped around your torso and her free hand was tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to leave your pulsepoint open. “You're so pretty when you’re desperate. Such a miserable little toy when no one is around to play with you. Isn’t that right?” Her voice is muffled against your jaw, where her teeth are nipping at the thin stretched skin.

All of your senses are overwhelmed, the crimson smog has infiltrated your entire body and everything is just obscenely sensitive. You can barely keep your eyes open to watch the way Kate is being fucked, Natasha smug as ever; but you can feel it. Every single movement and thrust, it’s like your Daddy is right there between your legs. It’s not enough though, and Wanda knows this. Her magic leaves you wanting more, leaving you just out of reach of what you really want.

Helpless as she holds you tight, you can feel her hardened nipples against your back and it makes you entirely too aware of the effect this is having on her. The more you wiggle against her, your butt snug against her covered center, the more she lets out feebly concealed groans but you both can feel her wetness soaking through the layers between you.

You can feel the way Natasha is dangling Kate over the edge, the way her muscles are tight and shaky with anticipation. It isn’t enough. It’s never enough. When you feel Wanda laugh behind you, stroking at your stomach in mock comfort, you can’t help the pathetic whine that tumbles from your lips. The grip in your hair tightens when you try to look at her, only getting a flash of the ruby eyes you’re forbidden from looking into. Slipping under the waistband of your sweats, the hand that tried to comfort you teases at your neglected clit; easing under your panties.

Begging comes easy when she swipes past the place you need most, rubbing at the spot where your thigh starts. You aren’t entirely sure what words are comprehensible, but your mouth can’t catch up to your brain. No words could truly get across what you felt, your body only feeling the ghosts of actions happening a state away short circuiting your thoughts. Seemingly Wanda takes mercy on you, letting her palm settle on your clit and two fingers to dip into you.

She doesn’t move, not even an inch after she settles her hand comfortably. “I said I would help, but that doesn’t mean I will be doing all the work. Show Mommy how much you want to cum.” Your hips are moving before she even finishes her words, grinding down onto her. Your eyes roll back, relief flooding your system as you finally feel something real.

Intoxication, once again, is the only way you can describe it. The way she reels you in, and lets the line out, is deliberate and smart. Leaving you hanging until you are delirious with need, a pliable toy for her to play with. She builds you up, fanning the fire that grows with each push and pull. It’s slow and leaves you completely at her mercy, brain completely flooded with thoughts of only Wanda–just as she likes and just as she knows only she can.

It doesn’t take much, your neglected clit grinding against the calloused heel of her hand and your cunt trying to suck in her fingers with a dire need. You can just make out Kate desperately clawing at Natasha, a sure sign that she’s about to fall over the edge. You feel her orgasm building before your own, too focused on knowing what she is feeling that when your own coil shatters it’s a mindblowing surprise. The intense fire ripples out over your body, washing you in a heat that over takes your entire body as it shakes and shudders.

Relishing in the high as you float along the overwhelming bliss it’s a complete ambush when Wanda’s hand slaps down on your pussy, sending a searing pain through your body. Startling you and effectively ending your orgasm early, the beginnings of a tantrum are on the tip of your tongue when you feel the ghost of Kate’s coil shattering. Causing an intense empty feeling, as your brain reacts to something that your body can no longer feel and you roll around in between the witch’s legs miserably.

An unamused look is the only response you receive as she watches you, waiting for you to realize that you won’t be getting any sympathy from her. Settling for your best doe eyed look and cute pouty lip, you gaze up at Wanda. “Don’t give me that look, Malyshka. You’re lucky a ruined orgasm is all you get for how bratty you were earlier.” The tilt of her head silences your arguments, though you know that she hears them when she raises an eyebrow at you.

Rolling her eyes, Wanda switches the television to some random animated movie with a flick of her wrist. “You did very good, Little One, but you did need to be punished. I told you that those bad thoughts you had were punishment enough for the time being, but that time expired and you needed to be reminded of your place.” Her tone was soft, but reprimanding and it made you shrink in on yourself. You knew your training and you knew what your role was in this dynamic, and while the others found amusement in your brattiness you knew that Wanda had trained you better than that. “My prized toy, this was just a bump in the road. I know we have had a few of those recently, but everything is a learning curve.”

Nodding your head as you listen, you move around so that you can curl up on her lap. Wanting to find more comfort you shove your face into her neck, sucking on the muscle in her neck as you listen. Enjoying the way it vibrates, an extra thing to ground you, as she continues to talk. She’s deterred from her explanation, knowing there was no reason to spend too long berating you after your talk earlier as well. Instead she’s talking about her day and the random things that you have missed from your time apart. The two of you see each other most days of the week, but sometimes your schedules just don’t mix well or other plans get in the way so you always enjoyed hearing about the small details of what you may have missed.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

You’re half asleep curled up in the huge bed, the sounds of rain tapping against the window of the master bedroom in the penthouse when Kate starts sitting up. Shoving your face into the pillow she abandons, you try to keep your eyes closed for as long as possible but the moment she’s poking at you that idea goes out the window. “Have…you ever thought about like.. the future?”

Rubbing at your eyes, you push yourself up to lean against her. Reaching out to grab her hands, tangling your fingers together so that she can’t tug at the loose thread on the blanket anymore. The silence wrapped around the two of you like a heavy blanket, and even though you wanted to stay awake you could feel sleep creeping back into your head. Clearing your throat, “Our future?”

You watch as Kate’s eyes twitch, uncertainty filling her features but she stays silent. The midnight blue cloudy with sleep and fear. Tracing patterns along her arm, giving yourself some time to wake up as much as possible and put some thoughts together. “My love..” Your hand is reaching up before you realize, tilting her chin down to look at you. “I’m not going to lie. Thoughts about the general future are.. Not really in my vision right now. Most of my energy is going into finishing school and getting a raise at work.” You watch your girlfriend’s throat bob, swallowing down whatever emotion she’s feeling. “But you… you’re always right there. Nothing makes sense, all my thoughts are all over the place and I feel like I’m constantly drowning; but Kate you’re the only thing that never wavers.”

“What…what about Wanda and Natasha?” The question lingers in the air. Your mouth opening and closing, your brain unable to wrap itself around the weight of the insinuation behind such a simple sentence. The past four years should be enough to show where you stood in their lives, but you were never one to have confidence in history.

The clock ticks, steady, as you struggle to answer. The heavy thoughts from a few days ago are still fresh in your mind, an unhealthy habit that you never truly broke free of. No matter the words spoken to you, or sent to you since then, you can’t shake the feelings deep rooted within you. The longer the two of you sit there in silence, the faster the warmth from the comforter escapes causing you to shiver in the cold of the night. Kate is pulling you back down onto the bed, letting you curl into her.

Sharing a lazy, sleep heavy kiss makes your heart stutter. Pulling away to see her dark eyes, illuminated in the moonlight that leaks into the room behind the curtain. Breathless as you blush furiously under her attention, her eyes spoke of all the love she held for you and the devotion was overwhelming the longer you got lost in the sparkling navy. Finally looking away you let your head fall against her chest, listening to her heart beat; smiling at the slightly too fast thumps.

There in the silence, wrapped in the safety of the love of your life’s arms, you say the words you never dared utter out loud before. “I’m whatever they want me to be..that’s..the only thing I ever truly know of them.”

@simplysimping999 @s1ut4nat @theperfectlovestory @widowbitessting @meimei-a

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larry-is-my-anchor1 · 2 months

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Rewatching Teen Wolf all over again because it’s my comfort show.

The last time I rewatched I recognized how JD took mythology and pretty much shat on it. It appears he thinks the fans are stupid.

And it’s not my first time at rewatching (as again my comfort show), because I noticed on a previous occasion that most of the writing had discrepancies. Like was the sherif there or not when his wife died? And how old really is Derek? First he was only 19. Then Derek was made older because guessing since the fans liked the scenes between Hoechlin and O’Brien. Like JD really thought the fans would forget his age was changed?

Also where does Stiles get his nickname from maternal or paternal grandfather? Discrepancies from the first season episode 5 to the season where he was taken by the ghost riders.

In season 2 when Gerard says to Allison she’s almost eighteen but in season 1 she turns 18. wtf!

In season 3 Lydia alludes to Stiles not being human when she says to leave the figuring out to someone human, when they didn’t know who was doing the sacrificing.

Now I’m focusing on how literally JD shat on Derick Hale. Repeatedly. It wasn’t bad enough this character was abused as a child, but then his entire family was brutally murdered. Then he’s left alone and just more crap keeps happening to him. Of course the first thing he does is try to get a pack. He can’t be an omega.

He’s also dealing with trauma of being in shame, the his family is murdered, which adds even more shame and more trauma because he feels responsible for the deaths Derek’s also only a few years older than Scott, Stiles and the rest. He’s not going to be amazing at being an alpha initially. He’s a traumatized older teen or young adult. He didn’t want to be an Alpha. Nor was he ever given a proper chance. He didn’t have guidance. Wtf Deaton. You couldn’t help him?

Beginning of season 3 when they had to do the ice bath sub consciousness thing with Isaac why did it take two wives to hold Isaac down. Poor Isaac whose already been through to much had to have claws in his neck and then practically drowning. But only took one person to hold down Scott, Alison and Stiles. Did Isaac have that darkness around him also?

Then in season 3B they mentioned that Stiles plays chess. But in season 1 they say only the Sheridan plays. Do JD and his writers really think people do not pay attention? If they care about ratings then care about the loyalty and intelligence of fans. But instead they just baited us and made us seem insane.

Season 4 episode 6, when stiles and Lydia are trying to see Meredith, Parrish tells Bronsky that he was caught blowing a breathalyzer test in Canaan. Later on we learn Canaan has existed in decades. JD thinks we’re fools.

But Derek was also too young to have had to find a new pack, when his family was brutally murdered. Perhaps that’s why he was grumpy. He was desperate.

A few months ago he had to end his girlfriends life as she was brutally attacked. Giving power to the nemeton. Which then gave power to Julia/jennifer/darach. Come on now.

Then flipping Kate somehow makes him a kid again and he has to deal with losing his powers.

Pack means everything to wolves. He again couldn’t be an omega. And to have to do it semi alone and then truly alone. Then trying to help a bitten werewolf understand what being a wolf means.

Plus he also has to live in the place his family was killed.

Then his damn groomer returns.

Then his little sister comes back and he chooses to make himself a punching bag for her and Boyd. He is always truly sacrificing himself.

Then his asshole uncle can’t remember if he’s good or bad but keeps abusing him! Peter was also never much of a help when Derek were youngsters.

Then a flipping dark Druid abuses him too. Like leave Derek the fuck alone. Don’t even get me started on the garbage Teen Wolf movie. That was utter and absolute garbage.

#derek hale #teen wolf #spoilers

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captain-mj · 1 year

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I love the Alex/Gaz stuff, anyway could get a short and angsty hurt/comfort where someone has Gaz to get to the 141 (this is when no one know where tf Alex even is but him and Gaz r already together) and like somehow he hears about it and just goes full protective/vengeful boyfriend to get Gaz back?

Maybe some hurt Gaz at the end and guilty Alex? Ofc happy ending plz ?

Smut or no smut whatevr is fine with me your writing is so good :)) <3

Love hurt/comfort! I never have an excuse to write it so thank you so much for the ask!

Also, this is a loose version Alex’s perspective to this post by my wife.

~~~~

Alex heard about it from the strangest of places. He was sitting in on someone being tortured, waiting to see if they gave them any information on his mission.

The person turned towards him and sneered. "Surprised you're not asking about him."

"Who?" Alex tilted his head. "Makarov?"

"Oh, you don't know?"

"Know what?" Alex knew the man was baiting him, but maybe he'd slip something more important in.

"Your little boyfriend. The posh british one. I know his team is looking for him. Surprised you aren't." He sounded so unbearably smug.

Alex heard a harsh ringing sound before he stood up. "I need to make a call."

He contacted Laswell with his radio. The mission required radio silence, so she was surprised to hear from him.

"Everything okay?"

"Where is Gaz."

"I'm assuming with Price. Why?"

"I have someone in the other room claiming he's missing. Call Price now." Alex sat next to his radio and waited. And waited. Before her voice came back on.

"I'm so sorry Alex. They’ve been looking for him but I wasn't told an-"

"Kate. You understand. Send someone else to finish this up."

"Good luck, Alex."

"Yes, ma'am."

Two hours. All it took. He beat the guy to a pulp before he finally admitted a location.

He doubted he could really account the next few hours of his life. The plane ride was too long. Talking with Price was too irritating. He wanted to yell at them. Then there was the utterly silent drive because Alex was holding his gun just a little too tightly for anyone to want to joke. Even fighting his way into the building was overshadowed by the sheer anxiety. Revenge was fun and all, but he wanted Gaz first.

He hadn’t called. Yes, he was on a mission and wasn’t supposed to but that hadn’t stopped them before. He should’ve called Gaz. He would’ve found out sooner. Could’ve helped.

Then, he found his sweetheart hanging by his hands from the ceiling. He had an iv in and his body swayed just slightly.

Alex went to check his pulse, but he jerked slightly. “He’s breathing. Thank God.” He heard them having a conversation around him, but he ignored it, getting Gaz down. He cradled him.

“I’ve got you.” Gaz looked so tiny. He barely felt like anything in his arms.

“I’ve got you.” Rage bubbling in his chest as he looked at them. "Why didn't you fucking call me earlier?!" He held Gaz, wanting to protect him from everything.

"God, he's so fucking light. Get out of my way. You fucking idiots. You should’ve gotten us!" Gotten me. He could’ve helped.

"We thought we could find him." Soap started, unable to look at Gaz.

"Clearly fucking not!"

"Stop fucking yelling at us! This isn't helping the situation!" Price snapped. Alex wanted to keep screaming. Wanted to yell and fight and go back and beat the corpses of all the people they had shot to get into the place.

"Gaz, I've got you. Please hold on." Alex held him close, carrying him. He held him tight, worried he’d bruise him. Once he sat down, he buried his face in Gaz’s neck and held him, not wanting to look at anyone else. All he could feel was Gaz, pressing into him. He smelled like concrete and iron and Alex hated it.

Logically, he knew he had to let go of him so the medics could help. It didn’t make it easier. Ghost had to pry his hands off of Gaz and hold his wrists.

“He’s a tough kid. He’s going to be fine.”

“No thanks to you.” Alex spat at him.

Ghost stared at him and just shook his head. He kept the hold on him though, not wanting him to interrupt the medics.

“Why him?”

“I don’t know. I guess he’d hurt us the most.” Ghost answered honestly.

Alex wouldn’t cry. Refused. Gaz needed him to be tough for both of them.

The medics gave him the okay and Ghost let go of him. He grabbed Gaz’s hand and set his head on the hospital bed.

He heard the click of the door, indicating Ghost had left, but he didn’t look up.

“Gaz. Come on, sweetheart. Wake up for me.”

“Come on...” He mumbled. They were pumping him full of fluids. Trying to fight off the dehydration he thought one of them said.

Alex kissed his hand gently. They looked normal. Like his hands always did. He waited. He didn’t know how long.

Vaguely, judging by the passage of time, he was pretty sure he fell asleep a few times, though he couldn’t remember doing so.

Gaz made a weak sound and Alex straightened. “Gaz??”

He whimpered, trying to pull away.

“hey, hey, sweetheart, its me. Just me. Alex.” He gently cupped his face, trying to get him to look at him.

“Hurts.”

“I know. I know. They didn’t want to give you anything in case you’d been drugged.”

Gaz nodded, grimacing and looking up at him. “You came.”

“Of course I did.”

“I didn’t think anyone was looking.” Alex felt like he had been stabbed.

No, this was worse than that. Maybe eviscerated.

“Gaz. I started looking as soon as I found out. I would’ve scoured the entire earth to find you.” Alex kissed each of his knuckles, looking at him adoringly. “Everyone else was looking too. I just... happened to get lucky.” He decided to stick with that. He could tell Gaz later about them not contacting him. Right now, Gaz needed reassurance more than anything else.

Gaz looked at him, something scarily blank missing from those eyes. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Alex answered desperately. He wanted Gaz to believe him more than anything. Besides maybe him being okay. Not being in this stupid hospital bed.

He should’ve called. Should’ve messaged Price to ask how Gaz was doing. Should’ve never taken a mission that required him to go radio silent at all.

He kissed him gently, holding him.

“I love you. I love you so much, Kyle Garrick. I promise I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” Alex did cry this time. Stupid. Gaz didn’t need to be dealing with him right now.

Gaz kissed him lightly. “Just stay for now.”

“Anything for you.”

#Kyle Gaz Garrick #Gaz Cod #Alex Keller #Alex COD #Gaz x Alex #Alex x Gaz #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare II

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pollylynn · 1 year

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Title: Doth Protest WC: 900

“It doesn’t matter, because I'm not upset.” —Kate Beckett, Inventing the Girl (2 x 03)

The idea that she would tell him—him of all people—if she were upset is positively laughable. But it doesn’t matter, because she's not upset.

But if she were—if there anything at all were to be bothering her—she has plenty of people she could go to. Lanie, for example. She could hypothetically go to Lanie in any situation involving being upset. Except, of course, she is not upset, and if anyone were to infer that she was, they'd be mistaken.

Lanie may actually be mistaken on this point at the moment. There was some definite side-eye coming from Lanie’s direction back at the crime scene, totally unjustified, by the way. Just because she wasn't in the mood for Cinderella jokes with a young woman dead on the ground. Just because she may have—only may have, mind you—snapped at him for providing accurate information, well, so what? Suddenly that’s side-eye worthy?

But whatever. Even if Lanie is mistaken—even if she is needlessly on high alert at the moment—the fact of the matter is that Kate could and would go to her if she were upset. (Which she isn’t.)

And there’s the boys, too. Of course they’re hors d’oeuvre–downing idiots who show up at Castle-level soirees under the thinnest of pretexts, salivating to know more about the jail-bait conquests of the man himself, but they are still solid go-tos in an annoying little brother sort of way. So there’s another two people way, way, way ahead of Castle in the line of people she’d go to in the event of upset-ness.

The boys, individually and together, may also be laboring under some delusions regarding her current state of mind. It’s all silliness, but their sudden appearance at the launch may not be entirely about finger-sandwiches and swag bags. It may not even be entirely about Sierra Goodwin’s near nudes by Will James. They may be . . . pointlessly looking out for her in some ill-defined way, for some ill-defined reason?

She’d like to blame Lanie and her side-eye, and it's always possible that the three of them, in their capacity as her first line of defense in case of upset, have been huddling up. But it’s also possible that they’ve imagined a certain acid in her tone as she initially briefed them on Rina of the Eyeliner Phone Number, when she took pains to make it absolutely clear that she’s barely out of training bras, and here and now as she gives them the low-down on the Big Baby Sitter Reveal. They have such vivid imaginations, those boys do, but there is—and has been—a complete normal amount of acid in her tone. Why would there be any more or less? It’s not like she is upset.

When she publicly drags Teddy Farrow in the bullpen, it’s because Teddy Farrow deserves to be publicly dragged. When she allows herself to comment on Wyatt Monroe’s low-life nature after Sierra’s revelations, it’s because Wyatt Monroe is an actual low-life. None of her behavior and nothing she has said over the course of this case—up to and including something that may have constituted a slip indicating that she may or may not have seen Showgirls—means that she is fussed, distracted, off her game, or in any way upset.

That is her stance on the issue (or non-issue) right up until the final interrogation of Travis McBoyd. He doubts her all the way into the room. He is literally on her heels, doubting her, and she bears it with the patience of a saint—something an upset person would be very unlikely to do. She forbids him to speak, but that’s just solid police work, and does she or does she not roll with it when he pushes Travis just enough that the man from Ohio is agitated enough—upset enough, if you will—to start spilling?

She gets her confession. She gets more than that. She eliminates the possibility that Travis McBoyd will recant, that he’ll claim he was coached, that he’ll lawyer up and try to worm his way out of the admission in the heat of the moment. She plays the recording that breaks him.

And it is upsetting.

Castle applauds her on her ballsy bluff, but she fends off the praise. She says out loud for all to hear that Travis McBoyd loved his wife and wouldn’t have wanted to relive her death. But “all” are not there.

He is there and he reads between the lines. He knows she’s fixated on the fact that she’s just made the man relive something worse, and he knows her well enough not to try to ease that guilt. Not right now.

He is there and he wants to know what other justice she’s managed to wring out of an unjust world. He assumes she’s managed it, and it’s something that he can enjoy the poetic justice of the end of the careers of Sierra Goodwin and Wyatt Monroe. It’s something.

He is there when she finds herself taking hold of the conversation and—in the most glaring, obvious way possible—steering it toward the stupid book that the stupid Cosmo writer has already gotten to read.

He is there when she needs someone to go to with her upsets, big and small, enormous and utterly silly.

He is there and she wonders when that happened.

A/N: Look, folks, she literally could not be less upset, okay?

images via homeofthenutty

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einsteinsugly · 7 months

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Fictober 13. That 70s Show. July 1994. Unca Hyde.

"Unca Hyde, come with me!" A little redhead weaves through the woods, like an unraveling ball of yarn. "Hurry!"

In the blink of an eye, they reach a clearing. A little clearing, at the edge of Bob's beachfront property, in Pleasant Prairie. Just big enough to start a project of epic proportions, apparently.

A stone's throw from Lake Michigan, the sun is beginning to set, but the fun and games are far from over. Betsy is "babysitting" to the best of a Kelso's ability, which is code for, someone's gotta check on her. Every once in awhile.

So Hyde has heard and taken a tiny glimpse at the kids' epic project, but he feigns surprise. "What is this?"

"The big kids made a fort." Four year old Leah happily takes the bait, before pointing to the tentative babysitter. "'Cept Betsy."

Becca's dark, curly head peeks out from the fort. It's like a standalone blanket fort, made with twigs. "Daddy, she says she's all smart, but she doesn't know how to put two sticks together."

Betsy groans. By design, Becca is always Betsy's purposeful buzzkill. "I swear, it's like a game of freaking Jenga!"

And Becca refuses to relent, and Hyde can't help but chuckle. Like father, like daughter. "It's a game she really sucks at."

Hyde shrugs, briefly sticking his head into the fort, easily putting two and two together. "Guess that's what happened to the ropes and pillows."

"Kate made it all cozy in there." The other redhead sticks her head out of the makeshift fort, with a happy little wave. Becca stays at the doorway, next to her best friend, readily relaying the details. "Hannah's thinkin' about adding some blankets."

James tries to push his way into the fort, and Kate and Becca guard the doorway. "We're gonna take 'em from Uncle Eric and Aunt Donna's boat."

Leah shakes her head, with a seemingly much better idea. "I think taking them from Unca Fez'll be easier."

Leah attempts a similar maneuver, and Hyde loudly clears his throat for the second time, in parental disapproval.

James shrugs. "Like taking candy from a baby?"

Now, Hyde has to be the parent. The cool parent, but a parent, nonetheless. "You're not supposed to steal stuff from Uncle Fez."

Kate attempts diplomacy, rather than brute force. "We can ask nicely. That's what I did for the ropes and pillows."

"I don't think you want a blanket from Uncle Fez," Betsy awkwardly declares, "He sleeps naked."

The kids erupt into a chorus of "ewws," and Hyde nods. "Gotta agree there."

But Betsy continues to add fuel to the fire, as she mindlessly swings two twigs in the dirt. "Didn't you say Uncle Eric used to be Mr. Nude?"

Another slew of "ewws" erupt, particularly from Leah and Kate, and Hyde promptly lays his theoretical cards out on the table.

"He learned his lesson, when he got caught by a neighbor in Africa..."

Now, there's an obnoxious chorus, to the tune of Toto's "Africa." "Duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh!"

The kids can be incredibly endearing, but sometimes, they can be incredibly annoying. "You can't keep doin' that every time anybody mentions Uncle Eric's times in Africa..."

"I bless the rains down in Africa, for changing my life." Somehow, the sound of Toto is a cue for Eric to dutifully appear. With a snarky smirk spreading like margarine. "Without taking the time to do things I never have before, who knows where I'd be..."

Betsy loudly scoffs. "You'd be like a scrawny comic book guy, Uncle Eric. How embarrassing."

"I mean, speaking of which. It would be nice if you gave back my Star Wars: Droids..."

"It fell in the lake. I was trying to read it on a raft." Eric innately squeaks, horrified, and everyone looks at him oddly. But Betsy continues anyway, unabated. "I told Dad that the lady of the lake took it, and he totally believed me..."

Kelso comes running, with a squeal of his own. "Was that the lady of the lake?"

Hyde chuckles. "You can say that."

#that 70s show #that 90s show #eric and donna #jackie and hyde #steven hyde #eric forman #michael kelso #betsy kelso #leah forman #kate forman #becca hyde #james hyde #my ficlets #my fics #fictober23 #fluffy fluff

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le-amewzing · 11 months

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Don’t Flinch

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this smol cross-over idea for months, so I finally sat down and wrote it! :'D

Fic: "Don't Flinch" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Lucy Tara (brief mentions of Lucy/Kate Whistler) & Meredith Brody, Jane Tennant, & a cameo from Dwayne Pride

Rating: K

Words: ~2,330

Additional info: gen fic, friendship, 3rd person POV

Summary: When Lucy's hesitancy to take the agent afloat position risks her dragging her feet and losing the opportunity, Tennant pulls some strings so Lucy can chat with someone who's been there before.

"They're going to want a decision, Lucy. Soon."

Lucy blinked and finally raised her eyes from the folder in Tennant's hands. Her mouth popped open, in a small "o," but no sound came out. That made sense; she'd already blurted to her boss exactly why she'd applied for this agent afloat position what felt like a lifetime ago.

Tennant's expression softened. She gave Lucy a fleeting smile, and her shoulders sank a smidge as she set the assignment aside on her desk behind her. "There are a lot of things you'll have to do, before you go, if that's what you choose. I know you don't have a lot of time to decide."

Lucy bit her bottom lip.

"You do still want this, though, right?"

"I…" Good grief, Jesse was always teasing her for being a chatterbox—but where had her words gone today? Lucy took a breath and squinted at the older woman. "I need time to think," she admitted in all honesty. "I mean, what would you do, in my shoes?"

But Tennant shook her head, not falling for the bait. "You know I can't answer that. Around your age, I was CIA and married and a mother already. That's comparing apples to oranges and wouldn't help you at all."

Lucy ran an anxious hand through her hair but nodded. "Yeah…"

Yet, after an odd beat, Tennant had that creative twinkle in her eye, the one Lucy and the others usually saw either just before they closed a case or before they blew one right open. "Actually, you have a good point. You do need time to think, as well as some help with the pros and cons." But, at the same time, Tennant turned her junior field agent around and ushered her out of the SAC's office.

"Wait, huh? I'm confused," Lucy said. She glanced up at Tennant when the other woman directed Lucy back to her chair behind her own desk out in the bullpen. "You agree with me?"

Tennant grinned—though, coupled with that twinkle in her eye, it wasn't as reassuring as Tennant might've intended—and twirled Lucy's chair so Lucy faced her computer. "Look, just. Distract yourself with the case at hand. Or even some old paperwork. I've a call to make."

"To wh—"

But Tennant wasn't sticking around to answer. The second Lucy twisted around to ask, Tennant had disappeared already.

Lucy frowned. At a time like this, she partly yearned to be out in the field, canvassing with Kai or with Jesse…then again, Whistler had come into her own a lot and was meshing with the team really well as their FBI liaison lately, and Lucy didn't want to interfere with her girlfriend's place on the team. It was better that Whistler, not Lucy, was out with the guys right now.

At the thought of the blonde, Lucy's eyes flicked back to Tennant's office, through the glass walls and to the folder waiting on Tennant's desk. If only this position hadn't come up now… If only Lucy hadn't applied in a desperate attempt to get off the island months ago…

She shook her head and got to sorting through information on their current case as Tennant suggested. Nope, there was no point in crying over spilt milk. Tennant was right: Lucy had a lot to sort out before she made her decision.

…Lucy had a lot of people to tell, before she made her decision.

Her list wasn't a long one, but Whistler's smile kept popping up in front of her other thoughts whenever Lucy attempted to focus on the current evidence list. Ugh, casework wasn't going to happen while she dreaded bringing up an agent afloat position to Whistler just when they were not only happy but actually getting started. Practical though the FBI probie might be, Whistler's smile easily faded in Lucy's mind's eye as she imagined telling her about the hypothetical time away from Hawaii.

Lucy glanced at her watch. Tennant had been gone for barely twenty minutes. Maybe she'd be back soon with whatever miracle she'd implied?

When another fifteen minutes passed of Lucy mindlessly sifting through files and rereading witness statements without absorbing words, she yawned and knew she needed a change of pace. The guys hadn't returned yet, and her text history with Whistler left off with this morning's hearts and funny faces (cute, nothing new, but it did hit Lucy with a fresh wave of guilt). "Time to see what snacks Ernie's packing today," Lucy mumbled to herself as she pushed up from her chair.

"Lucy!" Tennant called from the stairs.

The petite agent jolted and glanced to where Tennant waited for her. "Yeah, Boss?"

Tennant merely beckoned with a nod and a curl of her fingers.

Lucy glanced around her, but the other agents in the office paid her no mind, so she scurried across the way and up the stairs after their SAC. But, upstairs with the big screen, Tennant wasn't alone.

"Happy to do a favor for our sister office on the other ocean," said a much older man onscreen. His hair was mostly silver and a bit blond and white in places, and he had large, dark, drooping eyebrows over dark, drooping eyes that, coupled with his smile, reminded Lucy of a friendly neighborhood dog. He tore his eyes from Tennant for a moment when Lucy entered the room, and he tipped his head to her. "Well, now, you must be Special Agent Tara. Dwayne Pride."

"My counterpart out of New Orleans," Tennant supplied, "the Southeast SAC."

At that, Pride shook his head, though his smile never dimmed. "I tried tellin' the director that we did this dance before and didn't like it, but…after everything…Director Vance is willin' to give this another shot. So long as I get to supervise from the field, that is."

He smiled while Tennant smirked. "I prefer to call it a 'hands-on approach,'" she supplied.

Lucy glanced between them both before finally sliding in her own greeting. "It's—It's very nice to meet you. And to hear a somewhat familiar accent," she tacked on, chuckling and letting a little of her Texan drawl leak in for his reference.

"Much obliged. If you don't mind me not beatin' around the bush—Tennant tells me you've got a mighty fine opportunity in front of ya, but you've gotta make a decision by tomorra?"

"I, uh, yeah." Lucy swallowed a lump that formed in her throat in spite of the pleasant atmosphere.

Pride nodded. "Yep, not easy, makin' choices this big at the last minute. But I have an old associate on the line, waitin' to speak with ya. Thought she might—help clarify things." His smile lessened for a brief moment, his lips a tight line and his eyes narrow. Lucy would've asked if something were the matter if he hadn't nodded to Tennant instead.

Tennant, in turn, touched Lucy's shoulder. "You can have the room, as long as you need."

Lucy furrowed her brow and watched Tennant go. Still bewildered, she faced the screen in time for Pride's feed to cut over, and a new face replaced his.

This time, a woman maybe Tennant's age or a little younger greeted Lucy. Whereas Pride's backdrop had been the New Orleans office—his backdrop reminded Lucy a little of the main office's MTAC in D.C.—it was hard to make out this woman's whereabouts, since everything behind her was too dark and not well defined, all gray and black. With her dark hair, too, she would've blended in to her surroundings, if not for the way her computer screen lit up her pale skin in that ethereal, electronic manner; she might even be paler than Whistler, Lucy guessed. But her eyes—her eyes were bright, sharp, and piercing when they landed on Lucy.

Lucy licked her lips. "Special Agent Lucy Tara," she introduced herself.

The woman onscreen smiled briefly, but it felt…less friendly, perhaps pitying? Lucy mused. "Meredith Brody," she said.

Lucy's eyes widened. Brody… Brody. Brody. The name tickled the back of her brain, especially today of all todays, with this job offer a hot topic— "OH!" Lucy couldn't help but gape and gesture at Brody. "You—! You're Brody! That Brody! You were the youngest agent afloat assigned to duty!" She grinned and nearly laughed in amazement. "Holy crap. I just—I can't believe Tennant managed to set this up and." She paused for breath and stared. "Oh. Oh, God. I hope I'm not imposing? I know there's, like, five hours between here and New Orleans—"

Brody actually chuckled, which brightened Lucy's impression of her, and the other woman held up a hand to calm the junior field agent down. "Tara, Tara, don't worry about it. I'm not in New Orleans, but the hour isn't a problem. Plus, Dwayne Pride did a lot for me, back in my NCIS days. It's the least I could do."

That splashed cold water on her excitement, and Lucy's cheeks reddened. "Oh, you're—you're not NCIS anymore?"

Brody shook her head. She hesitated before saying, "No, I… I needed a fresh setting, so I took a personal contact's offer to work for DARPA, helping to manage security and assess threats. I see fewer people than I did in my old job, but I still get to flex my investigative skills." She shrugged.

Brody played it off as though it were nothing, but Lucy's eyebrows hovered high. Mentioning DARPA so smoothly? She had been impressed to meet the youngest agent afloat before; now Brody was somehow topping that.

"So, you have a chance to be agent afloat yourself."

"Yes, I do. I'd applied months ago, actually." Lucy dropped her eyes to her hands, which she kept clasped in front of her, to prevent her from twiddling her thumbs. "…to be quite honest, I applied when my head was in a different space and I thought I had a million-to-one chance of landing this, especially being a junior field agent."

Brody nodded. "No, it's not something they usually give to probies."

Lucy tensed.

"But everyone has to earn their experience somehow, and someone saw something in you. That's a good thing."

She tentatively raised her head, trying to muster a smile at the encouragement. "Yeah… Yeah, I guess."

Brody had to be sitting at a desk or table on her end, because she leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand while she studied Lucy closer, as though leaning in to the camera would give her better access. Brody narrowed her eyes, somewhat squinting, while she smiled. "Might be the right job but not the right time?" she surmised.

Lucy frowned.

Brody nodded again, but it was a small notion, mostly for herself. "I get it, having your reasons. Probably ones you might share and others you might not, for not jumping on the offer."

"Was it the same for you?" Lucy asked. "Did you ever feel butterflies or—or dread before accepting your agent afloat position?"

Brody paused before answering. "Not at first. Although the usual warnings you get, about 'finding your sea legs,' don't do being on an actual ship justice, so I can vouch for investing in decent seasickness meds if you opt to go."

Ah, right. There was being on the water twenty-four–seven that Lucy would also have to overcome… She twisted her lips around, waiting for Brody's next piece of advice.

But the older woman's humor mellowed. Her posture on the other end of the video call went somehow both tense and slack—Lucy read her body language as…apprehensive, yes, that was it—and Brody's eyes lost their focus or turned to something in the distance before she continued. "It's one thing once you get the hang of being an entire NCIS investigative team on your own, aboard a ship…" She paused for so long that Lucy thought the feed had frozen, when Brody resumed, "It's another if you're ever faced with a situation you simply can't prepare for." There, even with her eyes not quite on Lucy, Brody's expression darkened.

Lucy waited a beat before asking, "Then…we just prep as best we can, right?" She timidly smiled, too, craning her neck a bit in an effort to catch Brody's attention, half wondering if this call really had been a good idea if it'd sent Brody down some dark trip on Memory Lane.

Brody attempted to return the polite smile, at least. But she didn't expound on her previous thought.

"…hey. Brody, did—did that happen? To you?"

She paused, waiting for Brody to respond, but the dark look on Brody's face was clue enough: Brody expected Lucy either would've read up on more than just Brody's history-making assignment or she would do so after they disconnected today. So Lucy switched tactics.

"What I mean is: What's your advice, in the event that…I encounter something unexpected?"

Those same bright, sharp, piercing eyes that had first landed on her minutes ago bored holes into her now. "It's simple: Don't flinch."

That plain response, said so steadily and without blinking, chilled Lucy. But it also oddly settled her nerves. About telling Whistler, telling her friends, even imagining being aboard that ship—these things didn't seem so scary anymore. Not that Lucy wanted her own unexpected moment, but Brody was proof that you could go in, face anything, and still emerge on the other side.

Lucy couldn't see why she wouldn't take this job now.

This time, when her mouth popped open, she wasn't speechless. "Thank you," Lucy said, her voice steady for the first time in hours.

The darkness mostly vanished from her expression, leaving a haunted impression of Brody to Lucy, but Brody nodded and tried to smile, tired though the gesture was. "I wish you luck, Agent Tara." A second later, the screen faded to black.

The second after, Lucy turned heel, exiting the room and making for the stairs, calling out, "Hey, Boss…!"

Done for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Challenge as well as the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #150: tick tock goes the clock) in the HPFC forum on FFN. As some of my pals know, I've actually had a smol 4-way xover planned for a while, but I need the time to sit down and write that (idc that the shows managed to do the 3-way xover…I miss NOLA…!), and then this idea cropped up, so this got written first. XD Funnily enough, Lucy and Brody aren't even my fav charries in their respective series (that'd be Kai & Pike, and LaSalle & Gregorio & Jimmy Boyd, respectively ;3), but when Lucy's temporary transfer cropped up during s2, I did get to thinking about both Brody's infamous time aboard the USS Moultrie and Tony's time as agent afloat when Vance briefly split up the MCRT. I went with some embellishes here for Brody, but it felt fitting that Lucy might focus on the positive instead of the negative… I also like the Pride cameo, as well as some hcs for where both he and Brody are at this point in the NCIS canon. :3c (I actually have sooo many NOLA ideas, which—yet again—some of my pals know, but I deeply crave the time to write them all. XD) This rly is just some Hawai'i and NOLA fluff, but I think it fits nicely with Lucy's predicament. And woohoo! My first Hawai'i fic! :D (And here's my plug for NOLA: If you still haven't watched it yet, I highly rec it! -w-)

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

#ncis: hawaii #ncis: nola #ncis: new orleans #lucy tara #meredith brody #fanfic #mew writes too much #jane tennant #dwayne pride

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cypressmoons · 2 years

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bane of my existence and object of all my desires - chapter 5

1 2 3 4 <5>even i am getting breathless from writing this just imagine how kate felt at that moment bro also decided to start calling it chapters because this ain't just a short fic anymore >< warnings: brief strong language // spoilers for bridgerton word count: 3.7k

“Lord Kamisato.”

He only quickens his footsteps despite the repeated calls and equally fast-paced footsteps from behind him. The pleasant buzz of the ball grows quieter with every corner he turns, until he is finally alone with his thoughts.

The door to the study is roughly pulled open and before he can close it in a swift, angry motion, Y/N’s hand has already held onto it, forcing him to look at her.

His head is empty with nothing but fury. Seeing the girl in front of him, head held high and chest puffed out in her oh-so-annoying stubbornness is hardly doing anything to help. Ayato cannot understand why she is so insistent on following him to the study when what all that needed to be said had already been said? When she made it her life’s goal to clearly show her hatred towards him in every single thing she does, every single interaction they have? When she took every chance she gets to keep him away from her sister, his intended? What has he done to deserve such unrelenting malice?

His breathing grows heavier as he paces around the room, eyes scanning the stacks of documents on the desk but barely registering any of the words written on them.

“When will you leave?”

Taken aback by his sudden question, Y/N stands stunned and does not answer.

“Immediately after your sister finds a match?” Ayato sneers.

“I presume so, yes. Wh—”

He rests his hands on the desk then, as if holding onto the solid wood for support.

“And you will not concern yourself with finding a match of your own?”

“Why would that concern you?”

Ayato does not know why that would concern him at all. The family heirloom ring has been sitting safely inside the drawers of this very same desk for days now, waiting for the moment to finally adorn its new owner soon. Whatever Y/N decides to do with her life, who is he to question?

Even though he cannot recognize it yet, he secretly wishes she would stay.

Throwing his hands up in frustration, he stomps across the office, coming face to face with Y/N, the same unwavering expression on her face.

“It seems you will find any opportunity to keep your sister away from me...you simply do not like me!”

“Of course I do not like you!” Her attempts to stop her voice from rising any higher is proven futile, and the answer comes out in a near-shout.

“Have I done something to you? Why is it that you dislike me so?”

Y/N’s lip quivers, but her eyes remain harsh. Had this been a few days ago when Ayato was trying to find ways to make her falter, he would have enjoyed this immensely. But caught up in the moment of red, hot anger, all he wants is to find the answer to the reason behind all her unkindness ever since the first day they met.

Her hands are balled into fists and the fabric of her gloves wrinkle under the pressure, before she finally blurts out the words that have been driving Ayato crazy.

“Because you vex me!”

If she shakes her head any harder, Ayato is sure the sparkly pins attached to her head would have fallen off and flown across the room.

“And what is it,” he seethes, “do you think you do to me?”

Marriage should not be difficult to him, not as the most eligible man in Inazuma. Marrying Emiko should not be difficult for him. Hell, even if this whole thing turns to shit, there’s plenty more fish in the sea waiting to take his bait.

So why is he so hung up on this one family? With the one person driving him absolutely insane every time he so much as thinks about her?

“What?”

The cocky upturn of her head only makes Ayato’s blood boil even more. If only he could show her all the things she is doing to him.

“What do I do to you?” She says through gritted teeth, her whole body slightly trembling with what can only be assumed as anger mirroring Ayato’s own.

Trying his hardest to compose himself, he takes one, and then another step forward until the space between them becomes almost nonexistent. The silence of the room is replaced with heavy breathing not just from him, but from Y/N as well. His vision blurs as he remembers the bitter taste of defeat, of rejection, of hatred, all coming from the woman before him.

“You hate me.”

When he speaks again, his voice is surprisingly calm.

Y/N holds her ground firmly and nods, “I do. I hate you.”

Had these words come from a man of a different commission, for example, Ayato is sure his fists would have done the talking a long time ago. The bothersome existence of the Kujou rascals trying to undermine Lady Hiiragi feels like nothing compared to the aggravating way she spat out those words. Call him spoiled or entitled, but Ayato has never heard anyone so blatantly admitting to hating him, let alone a lady of high society.

The thoughts running through his head now are too scandalous for him to even admit them to himself. For a moment he can only stare at Y/N incredulously, watching her expressions – or rather, a lack thereof – slowly succumbing to her innermost feelings. He is sure he saw tears welling up in her eyes, but the next time he blinks, the same eyes are burning back into his again, the only evidence of any emotion being the trembling of her lip. The heavy breathing has somewhat quieted down, returning the study to its former stillness, but Ayato’s mind is screaming at him louder than ever.

He has been raised a gentleman, and he will handle this the way one does…

Or so he thinks.

“I am a gentleman,” he states, perhaps more to himself than to Y/N, but the step he takes towards her is proving all his self-convincing a lie. Whatever ungentlemanly thing his mind tells him to do, he has to physically chase them out with a violent shake of his head.

“And your heart is with my sister.”

All the screaming and yelling from before are reduced to a single whisper, and Ayato peeks at Y/N from under hooded eyes, the close proximity suddenly making it even more difficult to breathe in this stuffy room.

“And my heart…is with your sister.” He repeats, this time definitely to himself.

How can his heart rest with another woman when the one before him has intrigued every fibre of his being since the morning he saw her singlehandedly take down several monsters? How can his heart be with anyone at all, when all love brings is pain and despair?

Nothing in the world makes sense anymore as the both of them lean into each other, as if an invisible magnet is drawing them closer. All rationality leaves his brain when he is so close to her. He wants to stop. He needs to stop, but the voices of protest are drowned out by a sudden strong desire to kiss her right there. The shallow intakes of air from Y/N are only making his insides stir even more, her breathlessness mere inches from his face threatening to kick out what is remaining of his self-control.

“Say you do not care for me.” Ayato shuts his eyes as he lowers his head to her cheek, the heat emanating from her body putting him under a spell, “Tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away.”

She lets out a small gasp. His plan is working.

If he just lowers his head a millimetre more, their lips would have locked in the most satisfying way possible. Yes, that sounds like a solid next step—

“Brother—oh god iamsosorry—”

The pair jumps away from each other like loaded springs at the sudden opening of the door, and Ayato feels all sorts of emotions ever known to man coming together inside him, a time bomb set to explode at any moment. Frustration, anger, and utter yearning for another human being he has never known before.

Ayaka’s eyes are wide and panic-stricken in a quick flash before she slams the door shut, and Ayato does not hesitate before chasing after her, leaving a breathless and dumbfounded Y/N alone in the study, her world turned upside down and her body on fire.

°•. ✿ .•°

The earliest rays of sunshine seep through the paper windows, leaving a pleasant glow on the scattered papers on Ayato’s desk. The Commissioner sleeps with his head resting on his folded arms, a half-dried pot of ink still open next to all the requests and accounts. He has not left the study all night, having returned to occupy his mind with budget records after a heated argument with Ayaka, a rare exchange of harsh words between the siblings.

At least, he wishes the paperwork could take his mind off of some things.

When Ayaka enters the study again, she makes sure to knock gently first.

“Brother?”

Ayato wakes with a jolt, eyes still heavy with sleep that quickly dissipates when he realizes the time. He has spent another night buried in work, again.

“Come in.”

The sheets are gathered and crinkled in one swift motion and he adjusts his collar, trying to make himself look somewhat less of a mess than he really is.

His flustered state becomes even more apparent when his sister walks in, already meticulously dressed despite the early hours.

“So…I take that things are going quite well?” Ayaka says with a voice too cheery even for her own liking as she studies the titles on the shelves, pretending to be particularly interested in one tome about botany.

“Lady Emiko is quite pleasant, indeed,” he answers, praying that the conversations of last night would not be brought up again, “she is beautiful, charming, and even wise – did you know she speaks three languages?”

Seeing that Ayaka does not respond, he quickly adds, “What exactly is your objection?”

His sister turns to study him instead, suddenly appearing older and wiser than her age that Ayato tries his best not to waver under her stare.

“I suppose I do not have any, then,” she retraces Ayato’s steps from yesterday in a slow pace around the room, “if you say that you and Lady Emiko are a good match.”

His victory smile freezes when Ayaka continues her monologue.

“If you say that Lady Emiko makes it…difficult for you to breathe around her, if she gives you that feeling of…”

“Of what?”

“Hm?” Ayaka finally looks up from the yellowed pages of the botany book. He doesn’t remember his sister ever being remotely interested in such a subject matter.

“The feeling that makes it impossible for you to look away from her, or to even stop thinking about her…as if your body will explode into flames whenever you are near each other…that’s the feeling of love, brother.”

Ayato’s smile is permanently wiped off his face now when she mentions the four-lettered word. Since when is his sister so enlightened in love and marriage?

“Do you feel that way about someone? Is there a gentleman that I need to personally meet—”

“If you do feel that way about Lady Emiko, then I am quite happy for you.”

He doesn’t attempt to steer away the topic again and remains silent as Ayaka finally shuts the book and leaves the room.

Love.

Out of the two of them, only Ayaka can afford to mention love when it comes to marriage. Even her status as a woman does not take away from the endless possibilities of a love match. To find someone who cares for you the way Father cared about Mother…that is a luxury Ayato will never have the privilege of enjoying.

His stomach is in knots and he suddenly feels nauseous, as if he is about to engage in a battle he is destined to lose.

No, he cannot risk falling in love.

Marriage is not a game of longing looks and smitten smiles. It is a duty that needs to be fulfilled if he cares anything about the future of the Kamisato Clan. It is about survival. If he does not take on that duty and Ayaka is married off to another clan, all the hard work of restoring their former glory will have gone to waste, and he will never forgive himself for it.

He doesn’t dare savouring Ayaka’s words any longer. His heart beats erratically, having yet to come down from the sudden panic of realization. When she described the feeling of love, only one person comes to mind. One person he cannot have, because falling in love means destroying her future the moment he is taken away by the vicious battles of superiority, power and fame.

The camellia flower has to bloom again, and Ayato has to make sure of it.

There is only one thing left to do now.

°•. ✿ .•°

The night is pitch black outside the estate, and Y/N can only see her own reflection in the window, the shadow dim and fading in and out of existence in the dark. First drops of rain splash against the glass, the sudden pitter patter making him jump. She sighs, still unable to find any trace of sleepiness despite the late hours.

Taking a lamp from the bedside table, she gives in and tiptoes out of the chamber, closing the door gently behind her to not wake Emiko up. She remembers passing by a beautiful library on the brief tour that Ayaka gave, and decides that reading a book about some boring subject may be her best shot at finally falling asleep.

In the study a few doors down the hallway, Ayato dips his brush into the pot of ink for the umpteenth time that night, signing his name in an elegant twirl of the pen on some ceremonial requests from the Tenryou Commission. The candle flickers, hot wax dripping down into the holder and instantly solidifies, becoming one with itself once more. Ayato glances at what is remaining of three burnt out candlesticks and rests his pen on the desk. Perhaps it is time to take a well-needed break from paperwork and turn in for the night.

He takes his coat from the chair beside him and slides open the study doors. A faint glow of light coming from behind the paper shoji makes him pause his footsteps. Did he leave a light on in the library by accident? Or did a servant forget to blow out all the candles earlier?

A loud thunder crashes, and he hears a shaky whimper. Ayato can feel his heart thumping in his chest now, and he takes quick, adrenaline-fueled steps to the source of the faint light.

When he opens the library doors, however, there is no one inside but a lone lamp on the table, set beside some thick tomes about botany. The room briefly flashes white as lightning strikes outside the window, and the whimper sounds again, this time from way closer. Ayato has never believed the ghost stories the elder retainers used to tell him when he was little, but he is coming close to wondering about their existence now.

“Hello?” He calls out in a hushed whisper, careful not to wake anyone else up.

A sniffle, then the squeal of a chair leg as it slides on the floor.

Ayato reaches for the lamp in defense, but his guard quickly lowers when he sees a shade of white beneath the maplewood desk.

“Y/N?”

Teary eyes meet his from the cocoon of the table, and the girl instinctively backs herself against the wood in an attempt to gain some footing.

His voice immediately softens upon seeing Y/N’s panicked state. Her knuckles are white from gripping onto her knees too hard, her entire body curled in the corner like a small child afraid of thunderstorms.

Oh.

“Is it the storm?”

She nods, barely able to meet his eyes as she looks away in shame.

“Got room for two?”

Without waiting for her response, Ayato sets the lamp on the floor next to them and crawls under the desk, the cramped position reminding him of the days where he played hide and seek with Ayaka in the very same room before one of the retainers scolded them for damaging the books. Y/N looks at him in confusion, the question swallowed by a new wave of panic as another bolt of lightning strikes, followed soon by a loud boom of thunder.

The small space and close proximity to Y/N makes Ayato’s head spin. His eyes are open, but he no longer registers the objects in front of him, the legs of a chair and the lamp only blurry shadows to him. Tossing aside all his logic, he reaches out to pry her hand away from their death grip on her knees. Her skin is cold but soft under his touch, the slight tremble only stopping after he firmly envelopes her hand in his palm.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this. It must be quite unflattering.”

When she speaks again, her voice is steadier than before.

“Not at all.” Ayato smiles before he can stop himself, hoping the darkness will swallow the upturn of his lips before she can tease him.

Only she doesn’t.

“I’ve always been terrified of thunderstorms, ever since my mother died.”

Ayato doesn’t speak, and only listens as she rambles on to calm her nerves.

“I don’t know…it’s just lightning and we’re inside, I know they won’t hurt me, but I’m still overcome with fear every time. I thought it would get better as I grow older, but…”

She jumps and shrinks into herself even more when the thunder shakes the ground outside, her breathing becoming fast and erratic as if she has been submerged underwater for far too long.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

The manner in which he is holding her now has long passed what’s considered “appropriate” for a lady and a gentleman. At Y/N’s violent shaking, the only thing Ayato knows to do is to pull her closer to him, hoping his body heat and his soothing words can ease her suffering, even just by a little bit. His mind is blank and all he can think about is her intoxicating scent and how he would hold her like this for the rest of eternity if he had the choice.

His eyelids grow heavier with the day’s exhaustion, and as the storm finally passes, he feels Y/N’s tense muscles slowly relax in his arms. Staying up till the dead of the night is nothing new to Ayato, but he has never felt so comfortably safe as sleep begins to overtake him. Even the busiest day of official meetings and paperwork could not have given him the same sense of blissful fatigue that he has right now--under a desk, out of all places--with pins and needles in his foot from the awkward position. He is safe from the harsh reality of politics and jealousy and dark plots, even it’s just for a little while.

But you see, the choice was never his to make.

°•. ✿ .•°

The servants are busy lifting intricately decorated suitcases onto the carriage, and Ayato finds a moment of solitude in the soft sands of the courtyard while the world bustles around him. The festivities have drawn to a close and the Kamisato Clan has unsurprisingly executed every detail to surgical precision, that even Lady Naoki seldom had any comments about the capabilities of the siblings. Yes, that is exactly the future he wants for the Yashiro Commission.

Laughter rings from the front gates as the ladies bid each other goodbye. Ayato becomes increasingly restless, knowing that Y/N and Emiko will soon return to Lady Yae’s residence, and he will not get a chance to speak with them until whichever family decides to host the next ball. The younger sister looks visibly disappointed about something but tries to cover it up with a smile, bowing elegantly at every guest she passes by.

Ayato finds himself smiling. Rising to his feet, he makes a beeline to the gates, catching the ladies by surprise in the last moment before they ascend into the carriage.

Y/N’s face falls when she notices him, whatever words she was saying to her sister coming to an uncomfortable halt at his presence.

“Lady Emiko,” he dips his head in greeting and leaves a polite kiss on the soft skin of her knuckles.

“My lord,” the young girl returns the formality with renewed excitement, her smile much more genuine when Ayato finally straightens up to look at her.

Soft gasps sound from all around them when the Commissioner lowers to one knee, presenting a gorgeous jeweler’s box to the lady.

“Lady Emiko, will you please do me the honour?”

She is speechless and can only look at her sister in shock. Ayato feels like a carriage horse being blinded with invisible blinkers to the sides of his face, taking up all the willpower inside his body to keep his eyes focused on his future wife, and not the unpleasant woman beside her.

Surely if he believes the nasty words said about the older sister, he will start to like her less?

“Oh, of course, my lord!” Emiko squeals in pure delight, and the next few moments pass in a glorious blur of cheers and excitement.

Even with an overjoyed Emiko obscuring a good part of his vision, he still spots Ayaka standing next to Thoma, the smile on her face three shades darker than those around her. Ayato’s own grin fades too, suddenly remembering the whole love talk she gave not too long ago. He shakes the doubts out of his head and tells himself that this is the best choice to make, this is the only choice he can make.

#moon’s writings 🔖#bane of my existence ☽#kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayaka #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #bridgerton #bridgerton season 2 #kate x anthony

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adarafaelbarba · 2 years

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Gangs and friends (Joe Velasco x Samantha Maroun)

summary: Joe meets Sam on the job and falls instantly.

«Ahh you must be detective Velasco!» The woman he could only assume was Lieutenant Kate Dixon said, offering her hand for him to shake.

«Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice finally meeting you. Captain Benson speaks highly of you», he said, giving her a kind smile.

She chuckled at that, leading him to meet the rest of her squad.

«So you’re the detective helping us on this case?» Detective Cosgrove asked, gripping Joe’s hand a bit tighter than he probably needed.

«Go easy on him Frank», Detective Bernard said with an amused chuckle that encapsulated his whole face.

They talked Joe through what they had so far in the case and then set to work. The case was a string of murders, possibly gang related, that was now going over into sexual assault claims from some of the women who had made it out of there.

That’s where Joe came in. Although he no longer had connections to the gangs, though the ones he rolled with back in the day were not in New York, he knew how gangs worked. And if they were right about the cases involving gangs, he was their best shot.

At first he thought he was going to be used as bait, or have to go undercover. But they said it was pretty straight forward, so he sighed in relief.

~~~

And for a while it really was straight forward. He was there doing a job, his part on the case. Until she walked in.

Lieutenant Dixon had called the DA’s office to have ADA Maroun and EADA Price assist. She wanted the two lawyers there to possibly light a fire under their suspect, a man named Javier Henriquez, to see if he would rat out his crew. The man was a nobody compared to who they were really after.

«What exactly do you want us to do, Lieutenant?» Price asked, hands crossed over his chest as he looked at her.

«He won’t talk, but if he meets with you and Ms. Maroun, he might reconsider», Kate explained.

Joe looked at the two lawyers, his eyes lingering a little too long on Ms. Maroun before quickly looking away when she looked at him.

«What do we know about the people he works with so far?» She asked, looking at Joe for answers, «Detective Velasco?»

Joe blushed slightly, having missed that she wanted him to answer.

«The gang leader is a man by the name of Luis Pena. Rose to «fame» in the Bronx at the age of 15 before taking over his uncles gang here in Manhattan. No one can really get him tied to anything, but if Henriquez rats him out, we can get him», Joe explained, noting how Mr. Price and Ms. Maroun were nodding their heads while listening to him.

~~~

Getting Mr. Henriquez to talk once the DA’s office was involved was easy enough. The young man blabbed like a teenage girl gossiping to her friends.

However when it came to getting Mr. Pena though it took a little over a week more, but soon enough him and his gang were taken down, much to every cop in the city’s relief.

Joe was relieved, but extremely tired, and he wanted nothing more than to go home and go straight to bed.

That was until he was invited to go out with the squad and the two lawyers they’d worked with. He couldn’t say no to an opportunity to spend time with Samantha outside of work.

The two of them had gotten closer over the time they worked together, and he was hoping there was a chance for something else to come of their new friendship. Though if not he wouldn’t be too upset. She seemed sweet enough, he could deal with being just friends.

He pushed the thought down quickly and drove home to change as well as ditching his bike there before going to join the others.

~~~

He noticed Frank first, before he saw the other. The taller detective was pretty noticeable from where he stood at the bar. «Cosgrove!» He called out, greeting his new buddy and waving the bartender down «A beer please, ma’am», he ordered, giving her a kind smile.

«Do you flirt with every woman you meet?» Frank asked teasingly.

«Nah, just the cute ones», Joe said, his tone obviously joking. He only had his eyes on one woman, and she was currently laughing at something Lieutenant Dixon had said.

«Have you considered just asking Ms. Maroun for her number?» Frank asked, handing Joe his beer.

Of course Joe had considered that, but he was still stunned that Frank had asked him that so bluntly.

«I’ll do that tonight, I’m gonna shoot my shot so to say», to hell with nerves.

«Good on you, bud. I’m sure she’ll happily give it to you.» God how Joe hoped that was true.

Making their way over to the others, Frank let Joe sit down first, making him sit right next to Samantha, the two sharing soft hellos before he was included into the conversation.

At one point his arm made it’s way onto the back of the chair she was sat in. He never touched her, but he was guessing she could feel the heat of it as she leant back, his hand making contact with the back of her arm.

Kevin gave him a knowing smile and nod, but said nothing, while Kate smiled wide at the two of them.

~~~

By the end of the night Joe offered to walk Samantha home. It was pretty late, and it was only the two of them left at this point.

«I live kinda far away though, she confessed, «do you have a couch I can borrow until tomorrow?» His eyes widened at that, but he said that he did but that he could take the couch as it wasn’t the most comfortable one to sleep on. «I don’t mind. I’m not gonna kick you out of your own bed, Jose», she said.

«I don’t mind, Samantha, it’s only for a night, right?» She nodded at that, and the two made their way outside the bar and down the street to where he lived.

Back at his place he showed her to his room, offering her a shirt to sleep in and then left to let her change. «Joe?» «Hmm?»

«Thank you.»

He smiled softly, nodding his head, «No problem.»

~~~

Tag List: @teamsladsandgents @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @thatesqcrush @alwaysachorusgirl @I’m-just-a-mississippi-girl @bisexual-dreamer02 @misscharlielulu @xoxabs88xox @bidisasterforben

#samantha maroun #joe velasco #law and order svu #law and order

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theangiediary · 9 months

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people you'd like to know better tag thank youu @deanwinchesterpregnant @dyed-red

Last song: Outta Time - Natalia Kills (really the whole Trouble album) ((it IS a Dean song btw))

Currently watching: I've been having a weird time with visual media recently. Saw and disliked Barbie*, saw and loved Steel Magnolias. Very casually trying to get through late seasons spn.

Currently reading: Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir. It's good, a little slow. A friend recommended it so I'm trying to get through before I see him in a couple weeks so we can talk about it.

Current obsession: uh. Kink, maybe? Honestly I haven't had a good obsession in a minute, I miss it 😔 but I'm exploring that right now. Went to a waxplay workshop earlier this week, camp later in August (if you're a east coaster and know what I'm talking about... Uh hiii 👀). Getting myself so many presents :)

Tagging: I've seen many moots hit already so taking the lame way out and saying: if you see this, consider yourself tagged!

*Barbie critique (don't read it if you liked the movie ok I'm a hater it will just upset you) ⤵️

It was fine, for an ad. By their own admission Mattel has been struggling as a business, so this- along with the theme park they're building- is to create a "Universe" rather than just physical dolls. The in-movie criticism of Mattel doing things for money doesn't it not true. Look at the sheer volume of collabs, commericals, etc that's happening.

(Same with the "if you want to make this point about not being pretty don't hire Margot Robbie!". Like, cute 🙄. You still did though.)

And as a dyke I was irritated by the treatment of 'weird Barbie'. I had bad vibes from the trailer where Kate offered the Birkenstocks as "truth" and the heels as "ignorance". And the other Barbies calling her "broken" bc she "got played with too hard".... making her only role in Dreamland to "fix" other Barbies while being sooo scary..... ew.

Which leads me to something that really irritates me: people calling this movie "queer"! No! Obviously Weird Barbie (played by a lesbian, and since it relies so heavily on star power/meta it's pretty clear what they were doing) treated poorly, and then Alan.. well. I know some Twitter Gays/Bi love to be "ooh I'm so pathetic and scared 🥺" so great rep for them, but the Kens dance being "homoerotic" after immediately following his rampant misogyny, creepiness/sexualization of Barbie, etc is not, in my opinion, good!

The second half overall was just bad. Ferrera's speech was basic (we've been saying that for 40 years. Happy for you if it you took something from it but did nothing for me). Hated the "Girlbossing through playing a bimbo honeypot" 🙄. Sarcastically grateful that Ken thought the patriarchy was horses otherwise he might have put up a fight! And don't even.. listen I was ready for Barbie not to be Confirmed trans/ace/aro, okay I'm not an idiot, put the final moment being a bait and switch- "is she going to a job interview? NO big bright smile for the gynecologist!" made me so angry. They really said "human womanhood is defined by a pussy 🙂 Please still be pretty, hairless, and happy 🙂". Are you kidding me? #feminism ????

A much better film about womanhood, growing up, and mother-daughter relationships and frankly, queer rep, is Steel Magnolias (1989). Hooo boy. Actually cried. Without spoiling it bc you should watch it, the characters actually had personalities, and conflict, and it felt like you could (and would want to) walk right into Truvy's beauty shop and be part of something. Ouiser was my favorite of course.

#ask games #sorta #not spn #♥️♥️♥️#Spotify

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writerattheart-blog · 1 year

Text

What Should I Post Next

Hey everyone!

So… I’ve been working a few one-shots here and there in between some of my bigger works and figured I might post some of them, if not all. I’ve also been working on rebranding my blog and getting a WordPress website up and running, which school’s being a bitch. Also might have COVID again… not sure yet, but I hope not since the exam sessions are two days away.

Anyways, I will post the title of the one-shot, and then the summary, and you guys tell me which one I should post first.

Been Awhile - Larry Stylinson AU

Summary: Harry and Louis had always been each other’s casual hookups. That all stopped when Louis got famous.

For Sh*ts and Giggles - Sevasey FanFic

Summary: The CFD wanted to look more inclusive. They were losing the public's trust as first responders after an edited video made them seem homophobic. Queer baiting may not be their proudest moment, but they asked and accepted.

He’s Mine - Sevasey FanFic

Summary: Lieutenant Kelly Severide has a reputation for being a player and hopping from bed to bed—it’s not true, but no one needs to know that—and it was all okay with his (secret) boyfriend until someone threatened to take what’s his away from him.

It’s Been Awhile - Sevasey FanFic

Summary: It was the most fun he’s ever had, but more importantly, it was the only time he felt that connection. He wanted to take the next step—Kelly Severide doesn’t do commitments—but with him, he did. He was just too scared to ruin their friendship and potentially lose a relationship he never wanted to lose, so he broke it off. He took that step back, hoping his feelings would disappear, but his emotions got stronger, especially when he watched him walk away. In his attempt to maintain their relationship, he ended up losing it. Or: Kelly Severide and Matthew Casey had a friends-with-benefits situation in the academy when Kelly caught feelings and ended it. Then he never saw Matt again after they graduated.

Paid For The Past - Sevasey FanFic

Summary: An AU where Matt’s parents live. Kelly and Matt finally decide to stop dancing around each other, and Kelly learns some stuff about the blond man that makes total sense in the whole thing.

Second Chance - Sabriel FanFic

Summary: Omega Archangel Gabriel was found after years of the boys thinking he was dead. When found, he wasn’t the same sliver tongue trickster they knew but a broken man who needed help.

Roommates - Larry Stylinson AU

Summary: Louis and Harry are roommates, Harry had put up an ad for a roommate, and Louis moved in. Harry notices that Louis only survives on takeout, and when he leaves for his shift, he cooks an extra plate of food for Louis with a bit of note.

I’m Not Kate - Sterek FanFic

Summary: Derek finds out the truth about Stiles’s family.

I’m Here To Stay - Larry Stylinson AU

Summary: Captain Harry Styles, a military soldier who had been deployed for two tours back to back, finally comes home to his superstar boyfriend, Louis Tomlinson.

You Have Me - Sterek FanFic

Summary: Stiles is having his nightmares again. The nightmare of his mother, of the Nogitsune, of all of the death he has suffered. He hides it well. But not well enough to hide from the sourwolf alpha.

Let me know which ones!

A.B. 💜

#creative writing #one shot #fanfiction #which one should i edit first #my writing

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cyarskj1899 · 1 year

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https://pitchfork.com/features/lists-and-guides/best-songs-2022/

The 100 Best Songs of 2022

By PitchforkDecember 5, 2022

Featuring the 1975, Kendrick, Steve Lacy, Alvvays, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Glorilla, and more

Image by Callum Abbott, photos via Getty Images

In a year so bizarre that a Kate Bush single from three decades ago somehow topped the charts, it’s fitting that some of the year’s best tracks felt like wildcards. Rising rappers (Glorilla, Ice Spice, and Flo Milli) took over hip-hop, indie comeback kids (Alvvays, Alex G) wrote genre hits, electronic experimentalists (Alan Braxe, Rachika Nayar, Two Shell) kept us on our toes, R&B singers (Amber Mark, Yaya Bey) dug deep into explorations of self, and the biggest pop stars (Harry Styles, Beyoncé, Taylor Swift) couldn’t help but lean into nostalgia. Here are the best songs of the year. (And no, “Running Up That Hill,” released in 1985, was not eligible.)

Listen to selections from this list on our Spotify playlist and Apple Music playlist.

Check out all of Pitchfork’s 2022 wrap-up coverage here.

100.

Harry Styles: “As It Was”

“As It Was” is the kind of twinkly little confection that would easily get the indie kids pogoing at any local DIY dance night at any point in the last two decades. It just happens to have been recorded by one of the biggest pop stars in the world in 2022 instead of, say, the Strokes twenty years earlier. “You know it’s not the same as it was,” Harry Styles sighs, giving a nod to the easy bait of nostalgia. A pointillist synth line tap dances through the song, and all over that nagging pandemic-era malaise we’re all desperately trying to shake. Resistance is futile. –Amy Phillips

Trending Now

Open Mike Eagle Rates Punching Nazis, Taylor Swift, and Pop Tarts

Listen: Harry Styles, “As It Was”

99.

Black Midi: “Welcome to Hell”

Many songs have contended that war is hell; few have ever depicted that hell as crazed as this. Black Midi’s “Welcome to Hell” is four minutes of disorientation, a trillion-BPM assault on the senses that plays like Saving Private Ryan’s Normandy scene as a fast-forwarded Bugs Bunny cartoon. Somewhere amid all the Les Claypool riffage and incalculable time signatures, the band squeezes in a bizzaro homage to Shirley Bassey’s James Bond themes. The ridiculousness of the pastiche doesn’t dull its intensity one bit. –Evan Rytlewski

Listen: Black Midi, “Welcome to Hell”

98.

Phoenix: “Tonight” [ft. Ezra Koenig]

More than 25 years into their career, Phoenix are still finding new ways to sound brilliantly, effortlessly cool. Case in point: “Tonight,” a smooth collaboration with Vampire Weekend’s Ezra Koenig. Drunk on the promise of a great night out, frontman Thomas Mars charms his way through dinner and the course of an entire relationship in the span of one magical encounter. A sobering, early-morning apology inspires a fleeting moment of self-reflection as the vocalists pause, muse existentially about their endless partying, and ultimately resolve to do it all again, just one verse later. It’s an endearing defense of the pleasure principle from two guys who have seen their share of debauchery—but goddamn if it doesn’t sound fun. –Rob Arcand

Listen: Phoenix, “Tonight” [ft. Ezra Koenig]

97.

Tomberlin: “happy accident”

Tomberlin got to know her new home of New York by walking it. “happy accident,” from her sophomore album I Don’t Know Who Needs to Hear This…, unravels like an aimless meander through the city with unruly thoughts spiraling out along the path. Set to Cass McCombs’ elliptical guitar loop and thumps of percussion that land like leaden footsteps, the singer-songwriter interrogates a relationship that has been ambiguous for too long, her voice seething and weary. A relationship, just like a walk, isn’t always in need of a destination, and “happy accident” lingers brutally in the uncertainty of what might come next. –Carrie Courogen

Listen: Tomberlin, “happy accident”

96.

Ela Minus / DJ Python: “Pájaros en Verano”

What’s there to be grateful for in a hopeless world? According to Ela Minus, clouds, crickets, and sleep, to name a few. “Pájaros en Verano” is an ode to the quotidian pleasures we often ignore. Her praise for the small stuff pairs perfectly with DJ Python’s bubbly production, led by a bright, sweet mallet-like synth that meanders through minimal percussion. It’s a subtle anthem that invites you to slow down and linger on life’s simple delights. –Arjun Srivatsa

Listen: Ela Minus / DJ Python, “Pájaros en Verano”

95.

Horse Lords: “May Brigade”

Horse Lords has spent the past 12 years on a quest for utopia, seeking freedom and euphoria within the structures of their experimental rock music. On “May Brigade,” a clashing, raucous pattern born out of microtonal crunch and minimalist repetition morphs into free jazz freneticism, and distant saxophone trills get swallowed by drones and shimmering static. The song’s effortless abandon shows us the bliss that lies beneath Horse Lords’ heady ideas; within its sharp twists and turns there lies a motivating joy—a reminder to always keep on keeping on. –Vanessa Ague

Listen: Horse Lords, “May Brigade”

94.

Julia Jacklin: “Lydia Wears a Cross”

“Lydia Wears a Cross” is like driving rain, slapping you in the face, reminding you that you are both awake and alive. Julia Jacklin sings about religion and what it’s like to be a girl, sitting in the pews, whispering holy words without knowing what any of it means. She prays for Princess Diana; she listens to the Jesus Christ Superstar soundtrack. “I’d be a believer,” she sings, “If it was all just song and dance.” Around her, a fuzzed-out guitar crashes into a kick drum. It’s a look back at childhood, where real sorrow and brutal honesty outweigh nostalgia. –Sophie Kemp

Listen: Julia Jacklin, “Lydia Wears a Cross”

93.

4s4ki: “Punish”

“Punish” explores nihilistic self-loathing through a multi-genre electronic fantasia. The Saitama-based hyperpop artist 4s4ki alternates between clear and Auto-Tuned singing across the song’s quickly shifting sonics, which incorporate sounds from digicore and Japanese hip-hop. Her scream of the titular “punish!” flashes like a brief, electric glitch against the serrated drum‘n’bass chorus—a cry for help enmeshed in a suffocating, cybernetic pop landscape. –Zhenzhen Yu

Listen: 4s4ki, “Punish”

92.

Wednesday: “Bull Believer”

Wednesday’s “Bull Believer” is a two-act grunge odyssey in which lead vocalist Karly Hartzman jumps from chronicling Spanish bullfighting to describing being ignored by the guy she loves at a party. The dizzying song alternates between abrasion and solace, cranking back up just as it reaches a point of melancholic calm; monstrously heavy guitars and lap steel squelch beneath Hartzman’s guttural screams. As her paramour is distracted playing Mortal Kombat, she echoes the video game’s calls to “finish him!,” crying torturously before coming back for one final whisper—a satisfying end to an emotional nine-minute-long journey. –Margeaux Labat

Listen: Wednesday, “Bull Believer”

91.

Two Shell: “Pods”

Anonymous UK bass and hyperpop pranksters Two Shell insist that they aren’t trolls, which rings true. What kind of troll only spreads joy? The opening tremolo of “Pods” flies like a shuttle over a laser-weaving loom, and its 15-second breakdown feels more like being in a video game than any point of Ready Player One. There’s a Sunset Strip guitar solo with baroque overtones; an opera-cloaked organ tone is stuffed with hyphy vocals and capped with an EDM riser. Too good to be untrue, Two Shell filigree the line between mystery and mischief. They’ll probably turn out to be AI. –Brian Howe

Listen: Two Shell, “Pods”

90.

Joe Rainey: “bezhigo”

Joe Rainey’s music attests to the importance of community. A member of the Red Lake Nation of Ojibwe people, Rainey knows the value of surrounding yourself with others who inspire you, and this belief underlines every track on his debut Niineta, a deep collaboration with producer Andrew Broder that remembers loved ones who’ve passed and samples decades’ worth of pow wow recordings. Standout “bezhigo” weaves together three separate recordings of Indigenous vocalizing, and as the string arrangements surge, a steady beat arrives in the form of industrial clang, sounding like the repeated strikes of a blacksmith’s hammer. There’s beauty, “bezhigo” suggests, in forging one’s identity, purpose, and dreams alongside those who share your vision. –Joshua Minsoo Kim

Listen: Joe Rainey, “bezhigo”

G.O.O.D. Music / Def Jam

89.

Pusha T: “Diet Coke”

You gotta hand it to Pusha T—it takes dedication to still strive toward drug-rap perfection 20 years after making a song as good as “Grindin.” On “Diet Coke,” he raps over an 88-Keys beat that’s old enough to be called up for jury duty—all vacuum-packed drums and scratched-in vocal samples—but King Push has always made his music outside of linear time, peddling rhymes as eternal as the drug trade itself. “Master recipes under stove lights” he explains on the hook, ostensibly a reference to crack, but he could also be talking about how he manages to pull off this one kind of track again and again. –Dean Van Nguyen

Listen: Pusha T, “Diet Coke”

88.

Panda Bear / Sonic Boom: “Edge of the Edge”

Panda Bear and Sonic Boom began their joint album Reset with a simple premise: take the opening moments from great songs of the 1950s and ’60s, loop them, and shape their compositions out from there. “Edge of the Edge” uses Randy & the Rainbows’ “Denise” as its melodic germ, augmenting the 1963 doo-wop hit’s sweet and simple melody with sleigh bells, hand claps, and Panda Bear’s bittersweet croon before beaming in transmissions of dial tones and modem sounds from a less distant past. It’s an infectiously catchy tune that transcends time as it embodies these trusted collaborators’ experimental spirit. –Shy Thompson

Listen: Panda Bear / Sonic Boom, “Edge of the Edge”

Saddest Factory / Dead Oceans

87.

MUNA: “What I Want”

Not since Jonathan Richman’s “I Was Dancing in the Lesbian Bar” has a pop song so perfectly captured the bubbly joy of taking sips, shaking hips, and regarding leather dykes with love. But “What I Want” is about self-love too. MUNA singer Katie Gavin doesn’t want to just date a girl, she wants a girl to want to date her. The song hits hard on a dancefloor and even harder in a graffiti-spattered bathroom; face the mirror, freshen your lipstick, and mouth the hook: “There’s nothing wrong with what I want.” –Peyton Thomas

Listen: MUNA, “What I Want”

86.

Burial: “Strange Neighbourhood”

You could say that “Strange Neighbourhood” and the almost-album it comes from, Antidawn, are formulaic—but it’s a formula Burial patented. He owns this sound: the shivery shards of imploring vocals that flare up like embers aloft on the wind, the funeral-parlor organ swells, the moist reverberance and muffled found sounds, the disconcerting pauses and glitchy lapses where it feels like the track is giving up the ghost. Rather than seeming like déjà vu, this 11-minute audio-movie evocation of the hauntedness of urban space feels as fresh and original as the first time you heard Burial. You start to think he could carry on like this forever. –Simon Reynolds

Listen: Burial, “Strange Neighbourhood”

85.

Ka: “Ascension”

In the first verse of “Ascension,” Ka describes his style as “measured efficiency.” Indeed, the veteran rapper and producer has cut away all excess from his music, be it programmed drums or nonessential syllables and details. And on this highlight from Languish Arts, one of two albums he dropped in September, the Brownsville, Brooklyn native pries into his childhood—a topic that has grown more central to his writing in recent years—to explain why he believes this cool remove is not only an aesthetic choice but a moral good. Sampled reminiscences about family bookend the song, while Ka bounces, as ever, between the material and metaphysical, the days “long as the solstice” and the uncles’ lives cut short. –Paul A. Thompson

Listen: Ka, “Ascension”

84.

Sharon Van Etten: “Anything”

“Anything” is about an undefined anxiety so persistent, it numbs everything else, and keeps you up until dawn. At first, Sharon Van Etten’s admission of ambivalence in the face of war and climate collapse—“I didn’t feel anything”—seems like a self-soothing mantra. But this booming standout from her album We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong pivots at the bridge, when her lover comforts her, providing a moment of connection that nudges her away from the emptiness. As the song builds from spare, haunted strums to a surging crescendo, Van Etten’s tone flips, and by the end she’s belting out her unfeeling thoughts with palpable desperation. –Stephen Thomas Erlewine

Listen: Sharon Van Etten, “Anything”

83.

Cole Pulice: “City in a City”

Normally, Oakland saxophonist Cole Pulice uses live-signal processing to stretch their loosely winding jazz into sinuous, squishy shapes. But “City in a City,” the centerpiece of their wonderfully amorphous album Scry, features no such electronic manipulation. The song glides around two tumbling piano chords, as Pulice lets their unadorned saxophone lead the way, dancing up and down its range with autumnal grace. As transporting as Pulice’s more overtly experimental work can be, they’ve never made anything quite so simple and stunning. –Sam Goldner

Lisen: Cole Pulice, “City in a City”

82.

Bandmanrill: “Real Hips”

Bandmanrill never wastes a good sample. On “Real Hips” the kinetic Newark rapper comes through with the zeal of a personal trainer, transforming a Jersey club classic into a HIIT workout aimed at your abductors. DJ Bake and KilSoSouth ensure the beat is both vigorous and elastic—the right balance for Bandmanrill to rifle through talk of parents, success, and paranoia. He always comes back to that instructional, hands-on-hips hook, though, because this is a reminder that, for how frenzied life can be, having a good time should reign supreme. –Joshua Minsoo Kim

Listen: Bandmanrill, “Real Hips”

81.

Animal Collective: “Royal and Desire”

Animal Collective have done all the woodsy jamborees and primeval oozing and childlike explorations one could ever ask for, but “Royal and Desire” is above all beautiful—hardly one of the first words used to describe most Animal Collective songs. Deakin takes a commanding lead on the closer of Time Skiffs, their best album in more than a decade, with the rest of the band rising behind him in gaseous harmony. The music is sweet and legato, the sound is psychedelic rock falling from a soft-serve machine. This is AnCo at their most imperial, slowly stepping down the aisle, climbing atop the dais, and solemnly placing a lava lamp on the altar. –Jeremy D. Larson

Listen: Animal Collective, “Royal and Desire”

80.

Kelela: “Washed Away”

Over the course of three fully realized projects in the mid-2010s, Kelela wove together R&B’s tenderness with the ruggedness of club music, showing us that in allowing pain and pleasure to coexist, we might succeed in forging a path from the former to the latter. And then she disappeared. “Washed Away,” her first new song in five years, explores the aftermath of reconciliation and the eternal question of what happens next. While some might succumb to neurosis and anguish, Kelela chooses peaceful meditation. Devoid of both kick drums and confessional lyrics, the ambient track embraces the vast unknown of the future with a grace akin to ocean mist landing gently on bare skin. –Jessica Kariisa

Listen: Kelela, “Washed Away”

79.

Gilla Band: “Backwash”

Gilla Band wisely recognize that nearly all of the best ideas about how guitar bands can move on from punk come from hip-hop and electronic music. “Backwash” is the Irish band’s culminating proof-of-concept: As abrasive as it is propulsive, as direct as it is diffuse, the song runs post-punk’s basics through production tricks you can learn from modern-rap masterpieces like Playboi Carti’s Whole Lotta Red or Earl Sweatshirt’s Some Rap Songs. The guitars are subjected to blown-out digital processing with no regard for how the sound might be replicated onstage; lyrics about the horror of binge-watching Big Brother cumulate into a deluge of consciousness. Even the title is an inversion of punk-rock cliché: “Backwash” isn’t an image of spitting into someone’s face, but choking on your own disgust. –Ian Cohen

Listen: Gilla Band, “Backwash”

78.

Yung Kayo: “hear you” [ft. Eartheater]

Yung Kayo’s glitchy warble makes for a natural fit within Young Thug’s YSL roster, but the Washington, D.C. native’s music feels closer in spirit to the glittery rave-pop of Drain Gang than to Atlanta trap. On “hear you,” Kayo leaves the material realm, ascending to a dimension of pure light and sound. The presence of Queens-based experimentalist Eartheater might seem leftfield for an album that also features Gunna and Yeat, but her almost-inhuman vocal range makes for a symbiotic duet with Kayo’s unpredictable crooning. –Nadine Smith

Listen: Yung Kayo / Eartheater, “hear you” [ft. Eartheater]

77.

Porridge Radio: “Back to the Radio”

“Back to the Radio,” the momentous opener that sets the table for Porridge Radio’s third album of vein-bulging post-punk, is essentially one big crescendo. Spartan melodies cut through drums that jitter with nervous energy, as the British band approximates the feeling of walls closing in. Meanwhile, frontwoman Dana Margolin fills in the scenes of a hollow relationship: a house on lockdown, mutters in a slow-moving car. Porridge Radio render this quotidian prison so evocatively, it’s hard to not want to stay a while. –Mehan Jayasuriya

Listen: Porridge Radio, “Back to the Radio”

76.

Mabe Fratti: “Cada Músculo”

At first, “Cada Músculo” is a thicket of riddles and warnings—a brawny cello rises and lunges, a sibilant violin snarls and lashes, an inquisitive synth taunts and vanishes. This is how the Mexico City-based composer and singer Mabe Fratti renders our vexing world. Her voice glides through the mess, disarming it through self-sovereignty: “Cada músculo tiene una voz,” or “Every muscle has a voice.” Those rough sounds soften when she opens her mouth, sorted into something like breezy chamber pop, the mysteries of this moment temporarily banished. The end’s howling strings are a stark reminder of the iterative effort that existence demands. –Grayson Haver Currin

Listen: Mabe Fratti, “Cada Músculo”

75.

Earl Sweatshirt: “Tabula Rasa” [ft. Armand Hammer]

After a pair of laconic records whose goal seemed, at times, to obfuscate, Earl Sweatshirt returned this year with SICK!, an album dominated by songs that cut through the noise. Its centerpiece is “Tabula Rasa,” a patient piano number that pairs him with the unvarnished New York duo Armand Hammer. While Elucid and billy woods rap—vividly—about human connections made, broken, and fraying, Earl details the way a similar disintegration forced him to remake himself. “This game of telephone massive,” he raps during his loping verse. “I do what I have to with the fragments.” –Paul A. Thompson

Listen: Earl Sweatshirt, “Tabula Rasa” [ft. Armand Hammer]

74.

Ibibio Sound Machine: “Protection From Evil”

Like a fog machine dosed with sage oil, the opening track of Ibibio Sound Machine’s Electricity brings a heady rush to the disco. Over a cauldron of stomp and shimmer, British-Nigerian frontwoman Eno Williams repeats her incantation: “Spiritual/Invisible/Protection/From evil.” Produced by Hot Chip, the song hovers at the crossroads of Afrobeat and electronic pop, mixing horns, synths, and robotic vocalizations. Each element amplifies Williams’ impassioned chant, a benediction delivered with the haunted force of an exorcism. –Judy Berman

Listen: Ibibio Sound Machine, “Protection From Evil”

73.

Babyface Ray: “Sincerely Face”

Plenty of local scenes around the country tried to recapture the magic of Michigan rap this year, but none of them boasted a one-of-a-kind character like Detroit’s own Babyface Ray. “Sincerely Face” lays out what has made Ray such a pillar: Through his icy delivery, basic rap flexes about Rolexes, courtside seats, and steakhouse dinners sound revelatory. Over a chilly beat, he shrugs his way through a mix of life lessons with inimitable cool. It’s the type of song where the fly aura rubs off on you every time you play it. They only make ’em like this in Michigan. –Alphonse Pierre

Listen: Babyface Ray, “Sincerely Face”

72.

Eliza Rose / Interplanetary Criminal: “B.O.T.A. (Baddest of Them All)”

Taking inspiration from an immaculate poster for the 1973 Pam Grier blaxploitation film Coffy, every flirty bar and bubbly riff of “B.O.T.A.” oozes cool. Sassy organ house has long lit up British dancefloors, but topping the charts was hardly a forgone conclusion for underground UK Garage producer-DJs Eliza Rose and Interplanetary Criminal. After meeting the accelerant of TikTok, though, the tune’s explosion felt inevitable; it began festival season as a limited pressing and ended it as the hottest record in the UK and Ireland. In a year that resurfaced important debates about the ownership and authenticity of dance music, two things about “B.O.T.A.” ring true: It belongs to the people, and it’s real as fuck. –Gabriel Szatan

Listen: Eliza Rose / Interplanetary Criminal, “B.O.T.A. (Baddest of Them All)”

71.

Shygirl: “Coochie (a bedtime story)”

“Coochie (a bedtime story)” is the sweetest X-rated lullaby imaginable. Shygirl starts things off on a direct line with, well, pussy, sounding like she’s cooing into an old Nokia phone: “Hello? Is anyone there? It’s the coochie calling.” What follows is a soft, funny testament to the UK artist’s unapologetic sexuality, its liquid beat gliding, stuttering, and zipping under her airy vocals. That Shygirl can proclaim her own horniness with such cuteness and levity is a coochie-attracting combination in and of itself. –Margeaux Labat

Listen: Shygirl, “Coochie (a bedtime story)”

70.

Oso Oso: “Computer Exploder”

Like a drunk staggering across the beach, “Computer Exploder” lurches toward its chorus in fits and starts. The sunny skies of the opening verse are soon clouded with references to heartbreak and addiction, collapsing in a screeching rush. The hook, when it finally arrives, flashes Oso Oso’s signature blend of surf-rock guitars and emo harmonies, the love and drugs complicated by frontman Jade Lilitri’s self-referential songwriting. “When nothing goes quite like you planned it/Write 12 songs, swing like you can’t miss,” he sings in a nod to his latest album’s tracklist. The go-for-broke candor captures Lilitri’s ambition, casting him as a heavy-hitting rocker in an era that’s all but dispensed with them. –Pete Tosiello

Listen: Oso Oso, “Computer Exploder”

69.

Mavi: “Baking Soda”

On the sun-kissed “Baking Soda,” producers Monte Booker and Amarah break down the beat so radically that its melodic tendons barely attach to the rhythmic spine—when Mavi murmurs, “I been gave my soul away to the drum, I’mma live forever” on the chorus, the drum itself feels a hair’s breadth away from oblivion. It’s a complementary backdrop for the heady North Carolina rapper’s elusive insights; what does it mean, exactly, when he says, “And your tears is now trees”? The meaning blooms in the line’s lovely, lingering after-image, as the beat crumbles and rebuilds itself like the last dregs of a dream. –Jayson Greene

Listen: Mavi, “Baking Soda”

68.

Dehd: “Bad Love”

Dehd’s Emily Kempf is howling with her chest, sprinting at top speed towards a new dawn. The beatific “Bad Love” is more than a bold mea culpa for hurting people in the past, it’s a rapturous embrace of the dangerous task of loving again. Kempf stutters syllables in her quest for “re-re-redemption,” her hopscotching vocal rhythms echoed by machine-gun bursts of snare and sparse guitar licks. With the wind in her sails, her roars swell in size, pushing past the timidity of heartbreak to arrive at one of the most invigorating indie rock anthems of the year. –Jesse Locke

Listen: Dehd, “Bad Love”

67.

Koffee: “Pull Up”

Koffee boasts about her new luxury lifestyle on “Pull Up,” but it’s never arrogant or sanctimonious. Over an aquatic beat from British-Ghanaian producer Jae5, the Jamaican singer’s orotund voice feels celebratory, a match for a track that bridges the sunny textures of dancehall and Afrobeats. If anyone else leaned out of the window of a drifting car and sang about pulling up to the party in an Audi, it’d probably feel boring and out-of-touch. But when Koffee does just that in the video, her mouth full of braces, you can’t help but grin along with her. –Isabelia Herrera

Listen: Koffee, “Pull Up”

66.

Hagop Tchaparian: “Right to Riot”

The most immediate cut on British-Armenian producer Hagop Tchaparian’s startling debut album Bolts, “Right to Riot” merges worlds. Droning zurna melodies and tumbling dhol drums vie clamorously for our attention, but Tchaparian’s mastery of more traditional tactics—rising bass, cleansing releases, and a sample looped to sound like an alarm—make the track a gem of contemporary techno, whittling down the Four Tet collaborator’s sweeping vision into a sharp point. –Daniel Felsenthal

Listen: Hagop Tchaparian, “Right to Riot”

65.

Arctic Monkeys: “Body Paint”

Although the meta space-lounge of 2018’s Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino felt like a departure, this year’s The Car reinforced how elusive Arctic Monkeys’ debonair art-rock has always been. “Body Paint,” the album’s cinematic centerpiece, belongs in the revered UK band’s pantheon of slippery slow burners, alongside enigmatic 2000s ballads “505” and “Cornerstone.” Swapping orchestral swoon for glam-rock crunch midway through—right after Alex Turner croons, “And if you’re thinking of me/I’m probably thinking of you”—the song is an emotive puzzle, obsessed with artifice and lingering smudges you can’t wash away. –Marc Hogan

Listen: Arctic Monkeys, “Body Paint”

64.

Perfume Genius: “Ugly Season”

On the LGBTQ+ anthem “Queen,” Mike Hadreas embraced the power in being viewed by homophobes as a “sea witch with penis tentacles.” Eight years later, over the skeletal reggae beat of “Ugly Season,” his exploration of queerness veers further left: He is a heathen outcast finding abject pleasure and autoerotic arousal in filth, rot, and hearty handfuls of Vaseline. Hadreas’ voice is high and pure amid guttural screams and mammalian lurches, offering hymnic bon mots that could have been written by Jean Genet: “Split, black, pit.” This year, as queer artists powerfully embraced monstrousness-as-dissent, “Ugly Season” burrows into outsider living to emerge as a swamp creature with carnal allure and a tender caress. –Owen Myers

Listen: Perfume Genius, “Ugly Season”

63.

Azealia Banks: “New Bottega”

Azealia Banks considers the difference between fashion (what you wear) and style (what you possess) on “New Bottega,” which is to say, she is aware of how much she lays claim to. Some of the biggest albums this year drew on club sounds like a strategy, but the Harlem-bred Banks has always made a home inside house music. As she lists the names of designers she likes and doesn’t like in a bad Italian accent, “New Bottega” enters into the Banksian capsule collection—a staple in a malcontent designer’s oeuvre. –Mina Tavakoli

Listen: Azealia Banks, “New Bottega”

62.

Fever Ray: “What They Call Us”

This is the sound of crisis approaching from all sides: the escalating cruelties against its subjects (“did you hear what they call us?”) and the indifference of those watching it happen (“can you fix it, can you care?”). In a desperate plea for mercy, Karin Dreijer sings as if they’re grinding their teeth down to the nerve; the track shudders and startles at every turn, desolate synths circling the arrangement like vultures above wasteland. Despite this, “What They Call Us” is not the sound of defeat. It’s a defiant snarl in the face of circumstance: “I will stay if I dare.” –Katherine St. Asaph

Listen: Fever Ray, “What They Call Us”

61.

Amber Mark: “What It Is”

Uncertainty can gnaw at your psyche, boxing out every other thought. But Amber Mark imbues the troubling feeling with celestial wonder on “What It Is,” looking to a higher power to answer her questions following a failed love. The neat and simmering groove moves in lockstep underneath the R&B singer’s vocals, which mix her patient tone with agile vocal runs and gasping harmonies. Adrift in a stream of milky synths, she shows how powerful it is to be lost. –Brandon Callender

Listen: Amber Mark, “What It Is”

60.

Plains: “Problem With It”

The charm of Katie Crutchfield and Jess Williamson’s album is how they seamlessly combine their simpatico strengths—the plainspoken emotiveness, the pretty melodies, the diaristic attention to experiences big and small—into easy-breezy country-pop that wouldn’t sound out of place on Nashville radio. “Problem With It” is the shining jewel from their debut LP as Plains, an airy travelogue of deep feelings about wanderlust and wack lovers that glides by like a fast car on an empty interstate. And the harmonies! There’s true joy in their vocal communion, most striking when the instruments drop out and it’s just the two of them singing, finding their peace and place in the world within each other’s presence. –Jeremy Gordon

Listen: Plains, “Problem With It”

59.

Alabaster DePlume: “Don’t Forget You’re Precious”

The Mancunian saxophonist and spoken-word artist Alabaster DePlume meanders through the stuff stuck in his mind: an ex’s email address, a train transfer, assorted strings of identifying digits. Despite these thoughts—or even deeper, more abstracted aches—he delivers a serene reminder of what matters most. “They can’t use us on one another if we don’t forget we’re precious,” he offers. Against airy background vocals and fluttering strings, DePlume’s comforting reassurance feels like a secular blessing, a private rallying point away from life’s greedy clamor. –Allison Hussey

Listen: Alabaster DePlume, “Don’t Forget You’re Precious”

58.

Kehlani: “melt”

Kehlani’s desire for intimacy is insatiable, even as they tangle with their lover in bed. Over Happy Perez and Pop Wansel’s blissful backbeat, Kehlani meticulously and melismatically details a fantasy where they share a physical form with their partner, with only Kehlani’s tattoos differentiating them. In an era flush with sapphic love songs, “melt” stands out for both its grandiose string arrangement and its specificity, finding the most happiness in quiet moments. –Hannah Jocelyn

Listen: Kehlani, “melt”

57.

Camp Cope: “Running With the Hurricane”

Fiona Apple spread like strawberries and climbed like peas and beans; Camp Cope run with the hurricane, setting aside the heavy balloon of depression and obsessive self-loathing to keep pace with the forces that might otherwise knock them flat. There’s some Springsteen-y heroism in their full-pelt charge towards daylight—“Look out boys/I’m on fire and I’m not going out,” Georgia Maq announces—but the Australian trio is mostly guided by their country-punk foremothers: the Chicks, Lucinda Williams, Gillian Welch, Neko Case. The song rattles along in a lovely cacophony of jangling piano, lunging bass, and a baton-swap of choruses, like some junker with sturdy suspension and everything else nailed down just barely enough to make your escape. –Laura Snapes

Listen: Camp Cope, “Running With the Hurricane”

Parkwood Entertainment / Columbia

56.

Beyoncé: “Break My Soul”

“Break My Soul” demands its listeners leave all psychic weight at the door. “Release the stress!” a Big Freedia sample commands inside an Earth-shaking house pulse, as Beyoncé presides over the dancefloor like she just rode in on the back of a hologram horse. Bey gives a fully embodied performance that invites the rest of us to luxuriate inside our own bodies—to spit out the toxins and savor the pleasure that floods in once they’re gone. Unleashed at the height of summer, “Break My Soul” ushered in a sorely needed season of abandon and relief, serving as balm and catalyst at the same time. –Sasha Geffen

Listen: Beyoncé, “Break My Soul”

55.

Black Country, New Road: “Basketball Shoes”

It’s impossible to know precisely how many songs have been written about Charli XCX wet dreams, but you could reasonably assume only one is a 12-minute chamber-rock requiem whose reference to Concord Air Jordans bore a concept record about the Concorde jet disaster. “Basketball Shoes” erupts with the essentials of Black Country, New Road: frenetic tempo changes, bright arpeggiation, violin, saxophone, glockenspiel, distortion, screaming, doorbell chimes. Concluding more than their album Ants From Up There, the finale bids adieu to singer Isaac Wood, who left the band days before its release. –Hannah Seidlitz

Listen: Black Country, New Road, “Basketball Shoes”

54.

DJ Python: “Angel”

Reggaeton always seems to figure into discussions of DJ Python’s music—the New York-based producer did previously coin the term “deep reggaeton” to describe his sound—but while “Angel,” the lead track from his Club Sentimientos Vol. 2 EP, is built atop a loosely Caribbean shuffle, the sprawling tune is better suited to an afternoon of lounging by the pool than a sweaty night of perreo. Gliding across nearly 11 minutes of plush textures and dreamily plinking tones, the song has a hypnotic, almost womb-like allure, its patient pulse exuding a luxurious (but never ostentatious) sense of cool. –Shawn Reynaldo

Listen: DJ Python, “Angel”

53.

FKA twigs: “honda” [ft. Pa Salieu]

Where FKA twigs’ 2019 album MAGDALENE peeled back the skin of a visceral pain, her 2022 mixtape CAPRISONGS rediscovered a sense of somatic joy. twigs leans all the way into that physicality on “honda,” a dubby duet with the English artist Pa Salieu. Over a bone-deep bassline, Salieu and twigs’ voices twist around one another, mirroring the tangled, dancing limbs they sing about. At first listen, “honda” is all sensual chemistry, felt across a dancefloor, or speeding down the highway. But Salieu’s breezy monologue about looking at himself in the mirror frames the song in a different light: It’s also about those moments you feel entirely in your own body, reclaiming your “one-of-a-kind” self. –Aimee Cliff

Listen: FKA twigs, “honda” [ft. Pa Salieu]

52.

Fontaines D.C.: “Jackie Down the Line”

The lead single from Fontaines D.C.’s Skinty Fia is seductively dark, with a menacing bassline, gnarly ’90s post-punk guitar skeins, and a lyric that masquerades as a toxic-boyfriend confession. Like much of the album, “Jackie Down the Line” reveals itself with unpacking as a meditation on Irish identity: in this case, an examination of the way that cultural marginalization can breed self-hate and self-fulfilling prophecy. Grian Chatten’s Dublin brogue, flecked with the soulful British surliness of Mark E. Smith and Noel Gallagher, complicated things further. So did the song’s video premiere, brilliantly staged for the Tonight Show in a deserted theater for a roving camera that seemed unable to get a fix on the singer—much like the singer himself. –Will Hermes

Listen: Fontaines D.C., “Jackie Down the Line”

Text / Ministry of Sound

51.

KH: “Looking at Your Pager”

Kieran Hebden’s flair for tunes that intersect credibility and popularity already put him in a lofty position, but “Looking at Your Pager” proved another beast entirely. With fangs added to 3LW’s kiss-off and those signature pearlescent Four Tet chimes dashed against a pair of impudent basslines—like fine snow gracing an enormous, stinking cement mixer in mid-churn—2021’s fervently sought track ID became 2022’s great dancefloor unifier: It runs with the current UK vogue for growling mechanical steppers while offering sanctuary to nomads wandering America’s post-EDM plains in search of a new thrill. Although “Pager” gifted countless DJs a get-out-of-jail card this summer, they should be on red alert. Hebden’s ear for a monster hit is only getting stronger. –Gabriel Szatan

Listen: KH, “Looking at Your Pager”

50.

Danger Mouse / Black Thought: “Belize” [ft. MF DOOM]

MF DOOM’s appearance on Cheat Codes represents a bit of unfinished business: Danger Mouse, who originally produced DOOM’s long-vaulted verse, had long wanted the Roots’ Black Thought for the track. What could’ve been an autumnal team-up between two all-time rap technicians became, with DOOM’s passing in 2020, a melancholic meeting across the veil. The Villain’s sardonic epitaph (“They knew he was a negro/So no need to show faces”) draws as much blood as the world’s longest Erik Estrada joke, while Black Thought’s polished yet playful verse is a tribute to the sly anarchy DOOM could elicit, whether or not he was in the room. –Brad Shoup

Listen: Danger Mouse / Black Thought, “Belize” [ft. MF DOOM]

49.

Jessie Ware: “Free Yourself”

The beloved British singer responsible for one of the pandemic’s premiere pop albums teamed up with studio whizz Stuart Price and returned this summer with another ode to love and dancing. “Free Yourself” takes Ware’s blend of ’70s disco and ’80s boogie and shimmies it ecstatically into the ’90s—jacking acid house drum fills, flamboyant male backup singers, gospel piano—without losing an ounce of charm. And when, this fall, she finally sang it live in front of a New York crowd pitched to Judy-at-Carnegie-Hall pandemonium? It became a new classic. –Jesse Dorris

Listen: Jessie Ware, “Free Yourself”

48.

Ravyn Lenae: “Light Me Up”

“Light Me Up” is about the soft hope of a blossoming romance. The Steve Lacy-produced song begins with uncertainty, pacing in circles over tranquil bass guitar and kicks that pulse like a slowed heart. Lenae’s tender vocal runs descend like creek water as she describes the exhilaration of trying on someone new: “No coming down, I love the view.” The song’s private intensity makes it fit for a closed-doors affair in a candle-lit room, but Lenae’s weightless voice and quiet vulnerability makes it impossible not to want to listen in. –Jane Bua

Listen: Ravyn Lenae, “Light Me Up”

47.

Maren Morris: “Circles Around This Town”

Maren Morris does the impossible: She makes driving in Nashville sound fun. A sly bit of memoir set to music, the first single from Humble Quest recalls the singer’s earliest days as a Tennessee transplant, driving her “Montero with the AC busted” through traffic to look for a record deal and maybe find a little inspiration on the radio. It’s been a decade since she arrived in town, but she might as well be singing about what she did last weekend. She arrived in Nashville hungry. Several years and many miles later, she still is. –Stephen Deusner

Listen: Maren Morris, “Circles Around This Town”

46.

Drake: “Sticky”

On an album that often sounds like he’s searching for something (novelty, if you’re being generous; relevance if you’re not), “Sticky” is where Drake issues his demands: for more guests at the Met Gala, for police escorts, for a kiss, requested in curling French-Canadian. Like the best Drake songs, “Sticky” pressure-cooks his brashest impulses until they congeal into something tender. The club closes; the neon lights sputter out, and “it’s you alone with your regrets.” The stickiest situations are always the ones that trap you in your own thoughts. –Dani Blum

Listen: Drake, “Sticky”

45.

Lucrecia Dalt: “El Galatzó”

Lucrecia Dalt’s forceful whisper seems to lightly kiss the microphone, capturing the uncomfortable intimacy of another’s breath against your ear. A flute swirls in the stereo mix, and by the third minute of “El Galatzó,” the strings swell into a crescendo and her plaintive speech gives way to a soulful chorus of spirits. This is, of course, the alien Preta, the protagonist of her latest album ¡Ay!, who arrives flush with newly realized erotic power, rejecting the illusion of linear time. It’s a blast of sci-fi folklore, with an anti-colonial POV. The songs and stories of our ancestors aren’t relegated to the past; that kind of temporality, Dalt suggests, is merely a misconception of the unevolved. –Matthew Ismael Ruiz

Listen: Lucrecia Dalt, “El Galatzó”

44.

Taylor Swift: “Anti-Hero”

Sometimes the world really does revolve around Taylor Swift: Is there any other artist who could force urgency into the federal investigation of a music industry monopoly just by going on tour? With “Anti-Hero,” Taylor mirrors an entire lifetime of being a coy main character—the bleacher seat-warmer, the “insane” jealous ex, the doomed princess—with one addictive, charming declaration of self-awareness. Her vocal theatrics are spiked with the very millennial instinct to disguise confidence with self-deprecation, using the tools of a generation obsessed with self-reflection to make one of the best pop songs of the year. –Puja Patel

Listen: Taylor Swift, “Anti-Hero”

604 / Schoolboy / Interscope

43.

Carly Rae Jepsen: “Western Wind”

A “jubilation” conjures such a specific kind of party—maybe a little Catholic, maybe a little royal, something grand and elegant with streamers, champagne, castles. When Carly Rae Jepsen sings the word “jubilation” on “Western Wind”—a midtempo Live, Laugh, Love pop song produced by Rostam from Jepsen’s album *The Loneliest Time—*it’s about a memory of her clearing aside all the furniture in her living room to make a space to sing and dance with her family. It’s so simple, so delightful, so inviting. The sneakily well-built song bubbles along softly, like a sleepy little “Freedom! ’90,” a road trip jam that can silence everyone in the car as Jepsen sings this question: “Do you feel home from all directions?” Not sure what it means, but like the best songs, the answer when you’re listening is an unequivocal yes. –Jeremy D. Larson

Listen: Carly Rae Jepsen, “Western Wind”

42.

MJ Lenderman: “Tastes Just Like It Costs”

When MJ Lenderman’s guitar gently weeps, his songwriting keeps a stiff upper lip. Like everything on the indie rocker’s breakthrough album Boat Songs, “Tastes Just Like It Costs” contrasts the looseness of his playing—a saggy opening riff reminiscent of Queens of the Stone Age, some curdled Dinosaur Jr. soloing—with the extreme economy of his lyrics. In a handful of four- and five-line verses, he sketches a scene appropriate for a Portlandia sketch, or maybe a horror film: an upscale butcher shop, a “dumb hat,” a sourceless scream. “Mm, honey/It tastes just like it costs,” he drawls over glowing charcoal fuzz, savoring the sweetness of the ambiguity. –Philip Sherburne

Listen: MJ Lenderman, “Tastes Just Like It Costs”

41.

Charlotte Adigéry / Bolis Pupul: “It Hit Me”

On the Belgian electropop duo Charlotte Adigéry and Bolis Pupul’s debut LP, Topical Dancer, “It Hit Me” pierces through their theatrical scrim. Tackling the fraught subject of sexual spectacle—from the grimy discomfort of being leered at for the first time to the inane seduction techniques found in women’s magazines—“It Hit Me” guides us through the funhouse mirror of navigating one’s sexuality. The chorus underscores the weight of Adigéry and Pupul’s realizations, letting us feel the gut punch with them—and inviting us to dance through it all. –Sue Park

Listen: Charlotte Adigéry / Bolis Pupul, “It Hit Me”

40.

Yaya Bey: “keisha”

“keisha” is a breakup anthem made for a specific type of bad bitch: an independent woman who puts up with annoying “Where my hug at?” dudes, but still just wants to be loved and madly desired. Yaya Bey knows her audience is foul-mouthed, slightly toxic, lovestruck, and aroused by good, flirty conversation, so she adopts a feathery guitar riff that floats through the song. But when she sings the indelible chorus—“Yeah the pussy so, so good/And you still don’t love me”—it’s comedy and tragedy all rolled into one. –Tarisai Ngangura

Listen: Yaya Bey, “keisha”

1501 Certified Entertainment / 300 Entertainment

39.

Megan Thee Stallion: “Plan B”

The high road is unsatisfying and often boring. Mud-slinging reveals something closer to the truth, and on “Plan B,” the truth sets the Houston Hottie free: “Fuck you, still can’t believe I used to trust you/The only accolade you ever made is that I fucked you.” Bolstered by a Jodeci sample, Meg spits with equal parts force and charisma, confronting not just the anger of a bad relationship but also the pain. Just ’cause you’re a bad bitch doesn’t mean you can’t have your feelings hurt. –Jessica Kariisa

Listen: Megan Thee Stallion, “Plan B”

38.

Angel Olsen: “Big Time”

Even the brightest-burning romances are made up of quiet moments. With “Big Time,” Angel Olsen gives listeners a glimpse into that kind of intimacy: She and her partner Beau Thibodeaux, who co-wrote the song, drink coffee, lay in the tall grass, and walk down to the lake, singing Chris de Burgh’s “The Lady in Red.” Olsen’s brassy, stuck-out-of-time voice and the breezy, country-inspired arrangement imbue those details with the gleam of universal truth. The sweetly delivered line “I’m loving you big time” is a beacon in Olsen’s hands. Its disarming simplicity cracks open her incandescent partnership, letting its light pour out all over everything. –Brad Sanders

Listen: Angel Olsen, “Big Time”

37.

Sudan Archives: “Home Maker”

With the world coming back outside again, “Home Maker” shows that staying in the crib can be just as worthwhile. Sudan Archives sidesteps the opaque nature of some of her previous work for a straight-ahead introvert’s anthem. “I cry when I’m alone,” she coos atop propulsive drums and looping handclaps. “All these people don’t know/That I deal with all of these doubts.” Yet the song doesn’t wallow in sadness; it is empowered, therapeutic, and honest. –Marcus J. Moore

Listen: Sudan Archives, “Home Maker”

36.

yeule: “Bites on My Neck”

Part hyperpop cyborg, part suffering bedroom songwriter, yeule deals in emo-tinged laments that conceal deep, impossible desires: to be numb and euphoric at once; to be touched without a body. The Singaporean musician floats between dissociative sing-speak and lullaby coos on “Bites on My Neck,” corralling meteor-shower synths and pugilistic kick drums to offer a fresh perspective on pleasure-centric dance pop. Co-written and produced with Danny L Harle and Mura Masa, the track owes as much to M83’s starbound symphonies and Laurie Anderson’s deadpan alienation as to post-PC Music clubland. Yeule hijacks that garish pop paradigm in service of more vaporous emotions, funneling a post-breakup identity crisis into an immaterial rush. –Jazz Monroe

Listen: yeule, “Bites on My Neck”

35.

Special Interest: “Midnight Legend” [ft. Mykki Blanco]

When the drugs have run dry and you’re about to ditch the club, “Midnight Legend” will call you back. You hear those bouncing ’90s house keys, the synthetic snares that clack like costume jewelry on a cheap bartop. Special Interest vocalist Alli Logout pulls double duty: They are your disco deity, your rave therapist. “They all pine for you/Built you to destroy you,” Logout belts, before partner-in-crime Mykki Blanco slides in with a brassy verse. “Daddy pay the bill but I don’t fuck him,” Blanco snaps over a four-on-the-floor pulse. The divas have arrived—dancefloor salvation. –Madison Bloom

Listen: Special Interest: “Midnight Legend” [ft. Mykki Blanco]

34.

Grace Ives: “Shelly”

Grace Ives’ Janky Star springs to life like a miniature jukebox of sputtering New York love songs, each delectable hook blaring through with a raggedy kind of charm. Where most of the album channels the raunchy electro-pop of the aughts, “Shelly” calls out the oldies: its power poppy, guitar-chugging strut feels more of a piece with Pulp or Rick Springfield. Ives cheekily lusts after a woman who reminds her of the titular Twin Peaks character, breathily proclaiming, “I wanna 1-2-3-4-5 her.” It’s as winking as it is sweetly sincere, like a parody of all those unrequited-love karaoke classics that’s so positively giddy it ends up becoming the real thing. –Sam Goldner

Listen: Grace Ives, “Shelly”

33.

Big Thief: “Spud Infinity”

What exactly is the connection between potatoes and human existence? Who knows. But the absurd central metaphor in Big Thief’s “Spud Infinity” makes it both the band's homeliest song and possibly their most beautiful, escaping like a big, snorty laugh from their murmuring double album, Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You. The mouth harp and see-sawing fiddle are the perfect accompaniment to Adrianne Lenker’s outrageously playful lyrics, rhyming “finish” with “potato knish” in a flourish that would make John Prine crack a mile-wide grin. –Jayson Greene

Listen: Big Thief, “Spud Infinity”

32.

Chief Keef: “Bitch Where”

Chief Keef is at an emotional crossroads. The Chicago native is still as wild and irreverent as ever (“At the gun range, sound checkin’, it sound clear”) but he’s also uncharacteristically grateful to still be alive and creating after a decade in the industry. “Bitch Where” plays these fantastical tonal leaps against a triumphant beat made for a king returning from war, but once the smoke clears, a message from Keef’s grandmother maintains the air of gratitude: “Keep going, baby. Keep going. Granny just love how you move and doing yourself.” –Dylan Green

Listen: Chief Keef, “Bitch Where”

31.

Charli XCX: “Constant Repeat”

There are glimmers of Charli’s cyborg tendencies on Crash standout “Constant Repeat”—the high-pitched blips, the sliced-and-diced vocal outro—but it moves more lightly than the revved-up pop for which she’s become known. Charli is at ease, luxuriating in Jacuzzi-jet synths while delivering a resolute assertion of her worth to someone who let her go. Ostensibly about a breakup, the song becomes all the more potent considering Crash’s meta-narrative about a fed-up pop star dipping out on her major-label overlords. Charli demands stardom on her own terms; the mainstream machine can take it or leave it. –Olivia Horn

Listen: Charli XCX, “Constant Repeat”

30.

Ice Spice: “Munch (Feelin’ U)”

Merriam-Webster defines “munch” as a verb that means “to eat with a chewing action.” Which is wrong. Or, at least, incomplete. Because according to Ice Spice, the word is a noun that describes a particularly clueless kind of guy—a dummy, a sucker, a simp. “You thought I was feelin’ you?” the Bronx drill rapper eyerolls on one of the year’s most memorable hooks, “That nigga a munch/Nigga a eater he ate it for lunch/Bitch I’m a baddie I get what I want.” Ice Spice grew up idolizing both Cardi B and Erykah Badu, and she balances her brashness with a supremely unbothered delivery, as if she’s been swatting away munches for decades. Centuries, even. Merriam-Webster, it’s time to catch up. –Ryan Dombal

Listen: Ice Spice, “Munch (Feelin’ U)”

29.

Jockstrap: “Greatest Hits”

A song called “Greatest Hits” might seem like hubris, but subversive audacity is encoded into Jockstrap’s DNA. On this highlight of I Love You Jennifer B, the London duo takes the fundamentals of disco—sashaying glamor, sumptuous strings—and laces them with hyperpop mischief. “Imagine I’m Madonna/Imagine I’m the Madonna,” vogues Georgia Ellery, self-actualizing her stardom. In an alternate reality, “Greatest Hits” is soundtracking a scene of eyebrow-raising decadence in Studio 54 at this very moment. In our timeline it’s playing out on less opulent stages, but even the humblest trappings can’t tarnish its sense of unabashed rapture. –Louis Pattison

Listen: Jockstrap, “Greatest Hits”

28.

Soccer Mommy: “Shotgun”

Sophie Allison was put on God’s green Earth to write vivid, melancholy songs. On “Shotgun,” the undulating lead single from Sometimes, Forever, she masters the complicated rush of falling into an unsustainable love, painting a twisted picture of twentysomething romances. “You know I’ll take you as you are/As long as you do me,” she sings over muddy layers of grungy guitar chords produced expertly by Oneohtrix Point Never. “Shotgun” is about doing vulnerable and delusional things in love, knowing they’re just quick fixes, and not giving a damn anyway. –Gio Santiago

Listen: Soccer Mommy, “Shotgun”

27.

Steve Lacy: “Bad Habit”

Steve Lacy is a lovelorn Eeyore on “Bad Habit,” his Gemini Rights anthem for the undecided. He dutifully trods around in his own head, assuaging the guilt of not pursuing a love interest. Still, he allows himself to daydream. In a year that’s felt directionless for many, it’s clear why a song about living in ambiguity would become a No. 1 hit and every TikTok introvert’s soundtrack. More than the wispy pangs of regret or plaintive falsetto, what propels the song is a steady pulse of uncertainty, relatable to anyone who’s ever talked themselves out of following their heart. –Clover Hope

Listen: Steve Lacy, “Bad Habit”

26.

Cate Le Bon: “Moderation”

“Moderation,” a highlight of Cate Le Bon’s Pompeii, is a beguiling elegy to uncertainty. Atop a strutting new wave bassline and lonesome horns, the Welsh musician faces the habits she can’t quite knock, reckoning with guilt and her own good intentions. “Moderation/I can’t have it/I don’t want it/I want to touch it,” she sings, lingering on each word as if to briefly possess its essence. In this strange space between emotions, Le Bon stands transfixed by the unknown. –Quinn Moreland

Listen: Cate Le Bon, “Moderation”

25.

Burna Boy: “Last Last”

Has heartbreak ever sounded so liberating? “Last Last” is Burna Boy’s paean to pain and things that, well, don’t last—his layered vocals soaring freely over lolloping kicks. But played against the charismatic defiance of his drink- and smoke-soaked performance is that shivering riff of Toni Braxton’s “He Wasn’t Man Enough”; it rings like eternal doubt—maybe it was me, not you, after all?—and delivers the tension that triggered the song’s explosion across street parties and beach stages all summer. –Will Pritchard

Listen: Burna Boy, “Last Last”

24.

Daphni: “Cherry”

Daphni’s third album, Cherry, feels like it was bashed out in a few hours, in the best possible way. It’s rave music as garage rock, with a giddy sense of freedom that makes it feels like a breakthrough for the dance-music project of Caribou’s Dan Snaith. Standing astride the record is the title track, composed of a few eccentric but judiciously arranged elements—a frog-chorus of pitch-shifted hi-hats, a simple melody played on a pneumatic chord preset—threaded along a synth loop that sounds like a chain of exploding Pop Rocks. Simply yet counterintuitively constructed, “Cherry” is proof a rave anthem can be patched together out of anything. –Daniel Bromfield

Listen: Daphni, “Cherry”

23.

Weyes Blood: “It’s Not Just Me, It’s Everybody”

Natalie Mering transforms a biting moment of interiority—feeling unseen at a party—into a plea for empathy and interconnectivity. She notices the increasing loneliness in herself, then the loneliness in everyone, everywhere: a testament to the fact that we’re all “a part of one big thing.” The song beams with ’70s sonic nostalgia, Mering’s languid voice soaring over soft piano and taut drums. But the sentiments in “It’s Not Just Me, It’s Everybody” are hardly backwards-looking. Mering searches for a way forward, embracing mercy as a path to ourselves and each other. –Brady Brickner-Wood

Listen: Weyes Blood, “It’s Not Just Me, It’s Everybody”

22.

Two Shell: “home”

Two Shell could really piss you off if their music wasn’t so fantastic. Forget the duo’s inane first interview that self-destructed before you could read it, or their Boiler Room set where they twiddled knobs to a pre-recorded set in goat hats and sunglasses. Forget the passcode-protected hacker website that makes you feel like you have to steal the Declaration of Independence to get in. It all evaporates in the face of a big, phosphorescent floor-filler like “home,” in which pitched-up vocals from a 2016 alt-R&B song emit an irresistible rainbow sheen, texturized by whirring jungle beats and slobbery bubble-popping noises. It’s dippy, synthetic, and blindingly fun, a sure sign that even at closing time your night is on the up. –Cat Zhang

Listen: Two Shell, “home”

21.

Monaleo: “We Not Humping (Remix)” [ft. Flo Milli]

When pop-culture feminism goes full-throttle on misandry, the Miami bass-inflected “We Not Humping (Remix)” will be the movement’s rallying song. Equally bratty and lacerating, Monaleo and Flo Milli take turns using the alpha-male ego like a punching bag. Sparing no feelings, these Southern women giggle at erectile dysfunction, berating those who can only last for the duration of a TikTok video, and shaming the ones who failed Eater 101 in a playground-taunt delivery. Don’t worry, they just might let you hang—just come with your jaw loose and most importantly keep your pants zipped. –Heven Haile

Listen: Monaleo, “We Not Humping (Remix)” [ft. Flo Milli]

20.

Caroline Polachek: “Billions”

Caroline Polachek dives headfirst into the twists and turns of a mutually obliterative infatuation. She breathily gasps about “sexting sonnets” and “working the angles,” before plunging down an octave to seethe “headless angel / body upgraded / but it's dead on arrival.” And then a sharp turn: She hands off the final chorus to a British children's choir, whose voices sound so weightless they could be simulated. “I never felt so close to you,” they sing, modeling what all the best pop music does: taking a specific situation between a particular I and a particular you and inviting everyone else in the world to fill it with their own dreams and nightmares. –Sasha Geffen

Listen: Caroline Polachek, “Billions”

19.

Beth Orton: “Friday Night”

Beth Orton’s astonishing “Friday Night” captures the moment when a disarrayed consciousness finally arranges itself into a shape that makes sense. The haunted background vocals and vaporous synths suggest the time-travel of memory as much as the lyric about Proust’s madeleine, but Orton has no desire to live in the past. Though she’s a little unsteady, hobbling along to the tumbling beat of the drum, she’d rather move forward. As “Friday Night” unfolds, Orton sounds both weary and sneakily energized, ready to discover what’s next. –Mark Richardson

Listen: Beth Orton, “Friday Night”

18.

Björk: “Ancestress”

Björk wrote “Ancestress,” a long and stirring highlight from Fossora, in the wake of her mother’s death. She penned pages of words before whittling them down and enlisting her son, Sindri Eldon, to harmonize. In the moments they sing together, Björk and Eldon sketch out a lifecycle, each honoring their own matriarch. Björk pays tribute to her mother’s dyslexia—an “idiosyncratic sense of rhythm” and the “ultimate free form.” But she doesn’t just sing about it: She echos it with musical structure, shoving aside delicate chimes and dispatching atonal bells and jagged percussion. “Ancestress” is not only a song about Björk’s mother; it is her mother transposed into song. –Madison Bloom

Listen: Björk, “Ancestress”

17.

Nilüfer Yanya: “Midnight Sun”

Play a round of Heardle with “Midnight Sun” and you might easily guess an In Rainbows song. Nilüfer Yanya translates Radiohead’s signature elements—minor-key trickery, layered guitar loops, cryptic lyrics punctuated with anxiety—into a heavily redacted diary entry. From the sharp intake of a drum roll that opens the song to the scuzzy, major-key blowout that offers a long-awaited catharsis, “Midnight Sun” uses rock’s ominous side to ward off an unidentified threat. Consider it a talisman for a new decade of misinformation, paranoia, and emotional spiraling. –Nina Corcoran

Listen: Nilüfer Yanya, “Midnight Sun”

pgLang / Top Dawg Entertainment / Aftermath / Interscope

16.

Kendrick Lamar: “The Heart Part 5”

One of the worst strains of discourse in the field of Kendrickology is the idea that Kendrick Lamar never asked to be considered a spokesperson for the affairs of Black America, that he’s merely a savant that stumbled into a spotlight he’s not suited for, and never wanted. What an insult. “The Heart Part 5” is a three-hundred-and-thirty-two-second-long declaration of Kendrick’s unabashed desire for the pulpit, contending with whether the world no longer has use for his earnestness, and whether he should be ashamed to indulge his ambitions to moral superheroics. That’s actually exactly what the world wants, and it’s what Kendrick wants, too. –Adlan Jackson

Listen: Kendrick Lamar, “The Heart Part 5”

15.

Rachika Nayar: “Heaven Come Crashing” [ft. Maria BC]

Though Rachika Nayar’s previous works of gossamer ambient play along a rich spectrum of feeling, they often expressed their intensity softly. The first half of the Brooklyn guitarist-composer’s “Heaven Come Crashing” glides along in a familiar quietude, with clusters of vocals from fellow guitarist Maria BC. When it abruptly drops into a motorway-paced drum’n’bass section, the catharsis is surprising but earned, like a natural discharge of energy. Amid all the noise and rhythm, the familiar sound of a processed guitar becomes something new and majestic. –Zhenzhen Yu

Listen: Rachika Nayar, “Heaven Come Crashing” [ft. Maria BC]

14.

Pharrell: “Cash In Cash Out” [ft. 21 Savage and Tyler, the Creator]

“Cash In Cash Out” sounds like Pharrell heard a Gen-Zer refer to him as “the Minions song guy” and took it personally. Returning to a grittier sound after his work on Pusha-T’s It’s Almost Dry, he sought out two “ravenous wolves”—Tyler the Creator and 21 Savage—to attack extraterrestrial 808s and militant snares. Both rappers trade braggadocious bars, neither relegated to feature status—21 surfing the high-tempo beat while Tyler double-dutches with an increasingly frenetic flow culminating in his conclusive “Woof!” –Heven Haile

Listen: Pharrell, “Cash In Cash Out” [ft. 21 Savage and Tyler, the Creator]

13.

The 1975: “Part of the Band”

“Part of the Band” is both the thesis and the outlier of the 1975’s Being Funny in a Foreign Language. Its patient orchestral folk and tongue-twisting one-liners about “vaccinista tote bag chic baristas” stand apart from the bittersweet synth-pop found elsewhere on the album. The song’s vulnerability feels distinct in its precision, too. As frontman Matty Healy sings of exactly how long it’s been since he last used heroin, down to the minute, toward the end of the track, the production swells to a crescendo, pushing him further ahead. –Matthew Strauss

Listen: The 1975, “Part of the Band”

12.

Aldous Harding: “Fever”

Nobody darts around the edges of narrative and inscrutability quite like the folk-pop enigma Aldous Harding. On “Fever,” the New Zealand singer deals out impressionistic morsels of an 11-day love affair in a faraway city, shouting the first word of each measure like a schoolteacher calling roll. “Fever” may seem like a straightforward tale by Harding’s cryptic standards, but from the lopsided piano groove that anchors the tune to the dada wisdom that “one will fry if the other’s connected,” everything remains pleasantly askew. –Zach Schonfeld

Listen: Aldous Harding, “Fever”

11.

Ethel Cain: “American Teenager”

Ethel Cain approaches her music as a sound designer as much as a songwriter, eschewing conventional structure for marginal vibrations and layered sensations, which makes an arena-ready pop anthem like “American Teenager” something of a revelation. On a lost highway turnoff somewhere between Bruce Springsteen and Brandon Flowers, Ethel rides a sepia-tinged carousel of all-American imagery: tears under the bleachers, wasted nights gone wrong, and forlorn prayers to Jesus. While her songs are frequently extended epics, somewhere between slowcore and chopped & screwed choral music, “American Teenager” is immediate and succinct, but not any less careful in its construction. –Nadine Smith

Listen: Ethel Cain, “American Teenager”

10.

Hikaru Utada: “Somewhere Near Marseilles”

Hikaru Utada reinvented themselves on their eighth album, BADモード, dialing from J-pop toward sleek, mellow dance music. Featuring co-production from Floating Points’ Sam Shepherd, the LP’s jet-setting, showstopping finale frames a Mediterranean tryst in finger snaps and rubbery synths. It’s a glamorous setup for breathless intimacy: “Maybe I’m afraid of love/Say I’m not the only one,” they murmur as the song builds toward a blissed-out dance breakdown. Spiked with unfettered yearning, “Somewhere Near Marseilles” makes falling hard and fast sound like its own euphoric form of escape. –Eric Torres

Listen: Hikaru Utada, “Somewhere Near Marseilles”

Bad Bunny: “Tití Me Preguntó”

Bad Bunny regards seductive mischief as inextricable from his sensitive disposition: This is how he lets us know he’s complex. The arrangement reflects Bunny’s amiable disregard for monogamy. Producer MAG treats Bunny’s first solo stab at dembow like a coming-out party, lavishing him with keyboard swirls, sampled camera effects, a beat switch-up in the outro, and, terrifyingly, his aunt to shake her finger at her nephew. But Tití doesn’t have to ask for details—Benito will tell her. He giggles at his own admissions, and of course, like cads before him, admits that what he really wants is… love. –Alfred Soto

Listen: Bad Bunny, “Tití Me Preguntó”

Alan Braxe / DJ Falcon: “Step by Step” [ft. Panda Bear]

French house kingpins Alan Braxe and DJ Falcon made their long-awaited return on “Step by Step,” rolling out gentle waves of modular synths that sound like they come from an old AM radio. Panda Bear gives the duo’s subtle glow a narrative framework, singing about the aftermath of an idyllic past. But “Step by Step” is really about moving forward: The synths suddenly come alive, acoustic drums breathe momentum into the song’s sails, and Panda Bear—multi-tracked into an elated choir, and delivering the crown jewel of his already laudable 2022 discography—becomes a chorus of trusted advisors whose collective force, and copious repetitions, transform an old self-help chestnut into a life-changing belief system. –Evan Minsker

Listen: Alan Braxe / DJ Falcon, “Step by Step” [ft. Panda Bear]

Rosalía: “SAOKO”

Pressing play on “SAOKO” feels like opening a matchbox to find a blaze already lit inside. It’s the crackling, compact powerhouse that realizes Rosalía’s stated desire to hear something she’s never heard before. In just over two minutes, she darts through a Wisin and Daddy Yankee interpolation, digital distortion, and organic, jazzy interludes while laying bars harder than the diamonds she affixed to her teeth this year. “Yo me transformo”—“I transform myself”—is her refrain throughout, and a mission statement for how she synthesizes cross-cultural influences into a totalizing, transcendent vision of pop. –Olivia Horn

Listen: Rosalía, “SAOKO”

Yeah Yeah Yeahs: “Spitting Off the Edge of the World” [ft. Perfume Genius]

Time may have tamed their more volatile inclinations, but Yeah Yeah Yeahs is still for the kids: whether in the context of literal parenthood, the younger artists for whom their influence abounds, or the emerging generation at the heart of this quietly epic song. On the cinematic lead single from their first album in eight years, Yeah Yeah Yeahs obliquely trace the contours of our consequential historical moment, of what the young will inherit: “Cowards, here’s the sun/So bow your heads.” Its atmosphere conjures a world slowly turning, putting rage into a cool, cutting stare. –Jenn Pelly

Listen: Yeah Yeah Yeahs, “Spitting Off the Edge of the World” [ft. Perfume Genius]

Parkwood Entertainment / Columbia

Beyoncé: “Alien Superstar”

At least now we’ll be prepared if a UFO ever touches down in the club. “Alien Superstar” is a new-gen ballroom staple with a synth-drenched hook beamed down from a higher plane. Beyoncé has never lacked for confidence, but over Prince-ly funk paired with interstellar electronic flourishes, her assertions about being a “masterpiece, genius” with a “drip intravenous” feel particularly justified. Add to the audaciousness a grouping of samples that, were it not for the House of Yoncé’s copious resources, would surely never have been assembled under one roof: Dancefloor staples Foremost Poets and Peter Rauhofer meet a Right Said Fred interpolation that culminates in an outro by Barbara Ann Teer, founder of the National Black Theater. The result is 20-plus credits on a track that both soars and swaggers, a new bar set by a star always game to raise it. –Emma Carmichael

Listen: Beyoncé, “Alien Superstar”

Alex G: “Runner”

Alex G writes songs because, he says, he doesn’t have the “technical skill” for fiction. Probably you would not get a book deal on this premise: “Runner” might be a song about a dog, but it’s also a song about dog spelled backward. “I have done a couple bad things,” he howls, the tortured Judas cry of that most Easter bunnies-and-puppies of Alex G albums, God Save the Animals. “Judge me for what I do,” he reminds us, and as is true of many spiritual texts, the detail is kind of inscrutable while the story comes alive in sound: creeping-ivy melodies, spooky beatboxing, that primal scream. The scream leaves the human realm, meets the animal, approaches the perfect love to which we now aspire in the form of perfect two-and-a-half-minute pop songs. Alex G, like the dog who catches the car, keeps running. –Anna Gaca

Listen: Alex G, “Runner”

BLAC NOIZE! / Campsouth Records

Glorilla / Hitkidd: “F.N.F. (Let’s Go)”

Landing like a crunkafied version of Trina’s “Single Again” but with a rowdy Lil Phat on the chorus, Glorilla’s “F.N.F.” is a flashy relationship-status update that makes a breakup feel like a riot. Instead of solitary nights spent crying over a tub of ice cream, Glo goes looking for debauchery with her home girls, leading the charge into the streets with an invigorating “Let’s goooo!!!!” Flanked by her bad bitch army, she stomps over a thunderous HitKidd beat and has the last laugh over an ex who wasted her time: “Life's great, pussy still good/Still eating cake, wishing that a bitch would.” Don’t even try texting: Glorilla’s too busy twerking at intersections, hanging out car windows, and making the world know she’s free. –Heven Haile

Listen: Glorilla / Hitkidd, “F.N.F. (Let’s Go)”

Destroyer: “June”

“Speaking of lifelike, this is what life’s like,” Dan Bejar declares midway through “June,” a gloriously surreal destination following three decades of journeying into the heart of his subconscious. The Canadian songwriter’s spoken-word vocals are processed to sound like a montage of various Dan Bejars complimenting and contradicting one another, musing on art and existence or cracking an “I barely know her!” joke while pondering the meaning of love. The onslaught of non sequiturs is chopped and layered against wafting disco, like the soundtrack to a mirrorball head-trip sequence in the Hollywood adaptation of his life. If we’re to take him at his word, this really is what life is like—alternately gliding in ecstasy and waging war on each passing thought, all while still making time for the everyday absurdity that falls in between. A crown jewel of one of indie rock’s most ambitious songbooks, “June” found its home in a world that seems as absurd, doomed, and oddly romantic as Bejar has always seen it. –Sam Sodomsky

Listen: Destroyer, “June”

Polyvinyl / Transgressive

Alvvays: “Belinda Says”

Alvvays frontwoman Molly Rankin recently cited the Canadian short story master Alice Munro as an influence, noting the way the writer’s work can “knock the wind out of you.” Rankin and her band offer their own bracing wallop with “Belinda Says,” a heartbreaking sketch of an unexpected pregnancy that’s also a modern power-pop classic. She only needs one line to render vivid scenes: a warm vodka cooler chugged behind a hockey rink, a tense phone call with a would-be father, a forlorn move to the countryside soundtracked by Belinda Carlisle’s “Heaven Is a Place on Earth.” Like a heroine in one of Munro’s timeless stories, the narrator’s life is altered forever by a single choice of impossible magnitude.

The song’s bittersweet, sighing melody, one that could easily be repurposed within an antique music box, is magnified by production that weaponizes shoegaze signifiers in service of the narrative. Guitars smother like wet wool and shrieking seagulls fly over the coast; there's an overwhelming heightening of stakes, like your heart is being squeezed by a trash compactor. As Rankin soars into a final high note, it might feel like you’re leaving with a whiff of hope—but the solo that takes you home is messy, discordant, a little confused. It’s an appropriate finale for a song about the moments in people’s lives that defy clear articulation, when your only choice is surrender to a swirling maelstrom of emotion. –Jamieson Cox

Listen: Alvvays, “Belinda Says”

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