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spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 6 months

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Engagement for Two

Yo today was ROUGH like I was going THROUGH it but it was super funny so I’m chill

Pairing: Timothèe Chalamet x reader

Word count: Oh my god I ACTUALLY have the word count this time ⭐️3,318⭐️

Notes: Literally I don’t know where the need to write came from but zoo wee mama I did it Ps. I was looking through gifs of him and oOoOooOh my good he’s cute p.ps I HAVE TO EDIT THE WHOLE THING I ACCENTED THE WRONG E

⭐️Day 20: Oral sex⭐️

It wasn’t often the entire family was together, but after your sister had announced her engagement to her boyfriend Harry your mother threw together the best party she possibly could for her.

Harry arrived early the day of the party bringing five or six friends in tow to help set the place up. It was going to be at your parents house which had more than enough room for everything.

Harry was holding the ladder for you when another man walked over, his curly brown hair bouncing with every step. He stopped next to the ladder and leaned against it.

“Hey Harry, Molly needs you to go help in the kitchen real quick.”

“Oh- uh okay I guess? Hey Y/N I gotta go help Mols, will you be okay up there?”

You looked down at him, stopping putting up some balloons.

“I mean I should be? I’ve been on the ladder before…” You wearily looked at the rest of the wall you had to set up

“I can watch out for her!” Mr bouncy hair smiled and took Harry’s spot “Go on, don’t worry about us.”

You didn’t miss the look Harry gave him as he walked away. The man turned around to you and smiled, reaching up to hand you some more balloons.

“I’m Timothèe, Timmy for short. Mr. Chalamet if you want to be fancy” he winked and you rolled your eyes playfully, taking the balloons from him.

“I’m Mollys younger sister Y/N. Thanks for coming to help out”

“Oh I know who you are.” He said as he watched you tying balloons to the posts. “Molly talks about you”

You paused for a moment before you reached for another bundle

“All good things, all good things” He reassures you with frozen and you snort, reaching down for more. He smiles at you, his eyes shining brightly as he looks at you. He seems big on eye contact. Your cheeks feel flush as you grab the next bundle and you know he made sure you felt his fingers brush over yours.

You spend the next couple of hours setting up the party, and “Timmy” doesn’t leave you alone for more than a couple minutes to get whatever you ask of him or do something your mom wants. He does however talk your ear off. About anything and everything he’s got a story for it, you’re laughing about the time he and Harry got locked out of their apartment naked after a dare gone wrong when your sister walks over.

“Y/N! This is looking great!” She claps her hands together excitedly as she comes to stand next to you and Timmy. He’s got his hands on your hips, steadying you on a wheeled chair as you finish putting up a banner your mom made.

“And this is actually really dangerous are you almost done?” His voice is playful and light but you can hear the slight hesitancy in his tone. He’s definitely holding onto you tighter than he should be.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, I’m perfectly fine up here” you turn in the chair to face him and he almost has a heart attack

“Okay nope you’re done no. Let me finish it.” He physically picks you up off the chair and sets you down on the floor, your mouth drops as he puts you to the side and gets on the chair real quick, putting the banner up and hopping down.

“All done!”

You stood next to Timmy, drink in hand. After your little chair debacle it was time to start actually getting ready. People were gonna be showing up soon. You leave Timothèe with Molly, who pulls him away whispering excitedly and go upstairs to your mom’s room where she has your dress all steamed and ready for you. You could have done it on your own honestly but she practically begged to do it. Ironing and steaming helps her calm down she claimed and you shrugged handing it over that morning. That probably explained why all the napkins and tablecloths were pressed so cleanly.

You looked in the mirror, and smoothed it out a bit. The green tulle compliments your dark skin nicely, the boning inside giving you a snatched waist. You do a little spin watching as it flows around you. There’s a knock at the door and your sister walks in

“Who you dressed for??” She puts her hands on her hips as she looks you over

“You literally bought me this dress for this specific party!”

“I know but I didn’t think I picked one that good damn girl! I have talent.” She fluffs the straps on your shoulders a bit and then turns to the mirror herself, checking over her white dress with puffy sleeves.

“So Harry and I already talked about the wedding party… obviously you’re my maid of honor. But Timotheè is his best man, so I really think you should get to know him y’all are gonna be spending a lot of time together.”

“If it’ll make you happy sure. He seems pretty interesting anyway and nice enough I guess”

“How nice?” She raises an eyebrow at you and you shove her towards the door while rolling your eyes.

“I swear to god if you start that-“

“I’m just saying! You leave the room together coming downstairs for the party “he’s really freaking cute okay” she whispers in your ear as she goes ahead of you. Harry is standing at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes are wide as he looks at your sister. They’re full of love and adoration and it makes your heart melt a bit. He reaches out for her and she wraps her arms around his neck putting her forehead against his.

You smile softly at them as you’re stopped in your tracks. Timmy is leaning against the banister, staring up at you. Your cheeks feel flush as he offers his hand, helping you down. He whistles and makes you do a little twirl for him.

“I swear you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on Y/N I’m gonna have to stay glued to your side to fight off the guys with a stick.”

You laugh as he grips your hand a bit tighter “Oh you think I’m joking? Mols tell your sister I’m serious. I’ll protect her.”

Molly and Harry give each other a look before she turns in his arms, he holds her by her waist.

“He’s way serious Y/N” Molly smirks as the four of you enter the party. Timmy puts his arm around your waist pulling you into him as your father makes a toast. Your heart begins to beat a bit faster as you all raise your glasses, cheering for the soon to be wed.

You talk with guests for a while, it’s a lot of people to handle at once. You have to introduce Timmy to all of them and he has absolutely no problem laying on the charm. He does however keep you by his side, he moves with you as if you were a couple yourselves. After introducing him to what seemed like the millionth person he takes your hand, leading you over to the bar and ordering you a nice frozen fruity cocktail. You’re really surprised he got your order right. Molly really had been talking about you… or more like informing.

“You know this is a really nice house.” He says as he sips his drink, watching the party around him.

“Thanks, lived here all my life.” You joke as you lean against the bar

“I’d like to see more of it… if you don’t mind. Your mother seemed very adamant I ask you to show me around.”

You rolled your eyes as you looked over at her. It was your sisters engagement party of course she’d want to try and pair you off as well

“How could I say no when she was offering such a pretty girl as my guide?” Your cheeks felt flush as you set your drink down on the bar.

“Come on I guess”

He grinned excitedly as he followed after you. Your parents really did have a beautiful house. It was large, your parents had worked their asses off to make sure you all had a good life. And it was a good life, there were ups and downs and the usual generational traumas… but they’d done the best with what they’d had and it turned out pretty okay in the end. Not to mention having four kids wasn’t easy in the least.

“My parents bought this house when houses didn’t cost six spleens and a lung.” You say as you lead him through the many rooms. A game room, a sitting room your mother’s sacred sewing room.

“What’s upstairs?” He smirks, backing up the stairs to the second floor.

“Bedrooms?” You answer suspiciously.

“Your bedroom? I’d love to see it! Let me guess which one it is!” He races up the stairs and you run after him.

“Timmy you can’t just-“ you get to the top of the stairs and he’s already gone. You groan when you notice your bedroom door is open. Of course he managed to find it that fast.

He’s standing in the middle of your room, his mouth wide open. It’s a bright two toned pink room. With large windows and a little bay seat. Your bookcases are floor to ceiling on one wall and your gaming corner is set up on the other. Lots of little trinkets and posters adorn the walls and a large mirror hands beside your closet doors.

Timothèe sits on your bed. “C’mere” he pats the soft pink blankets next to him and you raise a brow, coming to sit next to him.

“You know you have great taste?” He smiles as he lays back on your blankets. You look down at him as he nods, gesturing you to do the same. You lay back, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Thanks, I’ve been working on it for a while…” you look at the sparkly canopy over your bed, little stars trapped in the drapes.

“I bet those glow in the dark.” He nods at the stars and you get a bit excited.

“Actually- wait you have to see this!”

You get up and walk around, shutting all of your blackout curtains making sure they’re secure.

“Can you get the light?” You ask as you finish up the last one and he gets up from your bed, stepping around a fluffy pink ottoman and shuts them off.

Your room automatically starts glowing. The ceiling lights up with painted on glow in the dark stars, his mouth drops open as he looks over at your bed and the stars wrapped up in the drapes do in fact glow.

“Oh this is cool” he laughs as he spins around taking in everything “Even your shades glow??” He points to the blackout curtains behind you also covered in glow in the dark fabric paint.

You walk over to the bed and get back on it, holding out your hand.

“But wait! There’s more!” You laugh as he takes it, you pull him down and he looks up, the Milky Way is across your ceiling. You can only see it laying down in your bed. His mouth drops as he reaches up to it

“How did you do that”

“I saved up for months and commissioned a local artist I knew could do it”

“Helping small businesses too? Could you be anymore perfect?” He laughs to himself “I think Harry might have picked the wrong sister” he mumbles quietly as he stares at the ceiling.

You both lay there for a bit, just looking at the stars. You feel his pinky run over your fingers for a minute before he grabs your hand. You look over to him and he smiles, kissing your nose.

“You know your sister talks about you a lot?”

“Yeah you mentioned that earlier.” It’s like he’s constantly seeing into your soul whenever he looks at you. Eyes may be the window to the soul but apparently he just walks right in like they’re a couple of open doors.

He sits up. “Yeah… I know a lot about you I guess. Which okay that sounds a little Murdery ” you both laugh “but I just… I can’t get you out of my head. This doesn’t feel like the first time we’ve met you know?”

“Yeah I think I know…” you say quietly, sitting up next to him, your legs curled up.

“I uh-“ he laughs awkwardly. “I’ve been into you since your sister first showed me a picture of you.”

“Oh really? I couldn’t possibly tell” you laugh and he blushes, looking away from you.

“You think maybe you could give it a chance to like me…?”

Timmy leans over and kisses your cheek sweetly. You blush lightly, turning your head and giving him a real kiss. His eyes widen a bit and he kisses you back, putting his hand on your cheek he deepens the kiss and closes his eyes. He gently rubs your cheek with the pad of his thumb, you nip at his bottom lip and he opens his mouth for you, your tongues weaving together. He moans hotly and pushes you down onto the bed, pulling you against him.

“Yeah I think I can give you a chance”

You wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls you closer into him, groaning as you begin to run your hands down his chest, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

“Y/N” he asks breathlessly as he pulls away for a second. “C-can we… can I do something?”

Your cheeks heat up and you nod, his hands slide their way up your thigh and under your dress. He looks at you as he starts to pull at your panties.

“Can I taste you? Y/N?… I’ve dreamt about it and I just need to try and satisfy this craving I have for you…” His eyes pierce through you once again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips… lips that are so pink and pouty… and it had been a long while since you’d gotten that kind of attention.

You lift your hips and wiggle out of your panties, letting them drop to the side of your bed. You nod up at him and he looks ready to devour you. He kisses you almost aggressively and pulls away leaving you winded in the best way possible. He goes to the end of the bed and lifts your dress up, bunching it around your waist. He looks to you watching your eyes nervously dart to the partially open window.

“Why are you so nervous?” He chuckles as he reaches up, gently intertwining his fingers with yours. He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb and smiles. He’s staring into your eyes, he’s seated between your legs with your pretty cunt right in his face and he’s staring into your eyes.

“How about the fact that my entire family is just outside that window?”

“Y/N we’re on the second floor. They’re down and a little to the left actually.”

You hit his head with your thigh and he throws his head back laughing

“Relax sweet girl, they won’t hear you okay? If you get too loud I’ll tell you.” He lays his head on your thigh, dragging his thumb over your wet juicy lips causing your hips to buck up. He holds your hips down and smiles lazily.

“So fucking eager”

He lays properly between your thighs now, putting them over his shoulders carefully. He licks his lips slowly and his eyes light up, a burning fire in them.

“Hold on tight spider monkey”

You throw your head back, ugly laughing as you grab a handful of his hair and pull him closer to your clit

“Just shut up and fucking eat me Timothèe”

He laughs through his nose as he kisses your lips, making out with your soaked cunt. Your jaw drops slowly as you lay your head back. He pulls you closer burying his tongue deep inside you, letting out a deep moan as your juices flow over his tongue. He slurps messily as his tongue rolls around your clit sucking on it softly

“Fuck you taste as good as you look. God I knew you would the moment I saw you.” He lifts you higher by your hips and pulls you closer, licking a long stripe up your folds. You pull at his hair, your legs shaking as you moan, high pitched and breathy. He gives your leg a bit of a whack and you jump.

“Shhhh baby” he whispers against your heated cunt as he kisses it his eyes rolling in the back of his head. He closes his eyes for a minute almost like he’s savoring you as he dips his head back in, his nose against your clit while his tongue works you over. You tug at his hair as he drags his fingers through your juices, he pulls them away and you watch his fingers drip. He smirks up at you as he slides them inside you, they slip in embarrassingly easy and he begins to pump his fingers slowly in and out in time with the licks and light flicks of his tongue to your clit. He uses the tip of his tongue to toy with you, pressing down on your clit causing you to buck your hips against his mouth. He chuckles as you begin to fuck his face, grinding yourself against it and using him to get off. He moans lowly as his fingers start to go faster, your eyes widen as you see his hips grinding into the bed underneath him. His slutty little waist pushing down into the blankets as he tries to get whatever friction he can.

“I wanna see how pretty you look when you cum” he pants as he makes out with your pussy, your juices starting to drip down his chin as that coil inside you winds tighter and tighter. “Please Y/N? God-fuck please let me see you cum for me.”

Who knew Timmy could be such a good beggar? And he wasn’t even trying

Your legs pull together and he holds them back a bit as you cum, your back arches and you grind against his face as he fingers you faster. You cry out his name, your eyes shut tightly, tears sliding down your cheeks from having to fight to be quiet. Your body falls limp, your eyes blinking open softly just in time to watch Timothèe come undone on your sheets, he cums in his pants as he grinds roughly against the bed his head still buried in between your legs. You feel him panting against your fluttering cunt as he calms down. He weakly lays his head on your thigh and looks up at you.

“I’ll clean that up, I promise.”

You giggle as he drags his tired body up the bed and plops next to you, wrapping his arms around you and snuggling into your neck.

“You think they’d notice if we took a nap?”

“I think our phones have gone off at least seven times each and people are wondering where we are.” You smile and look at him, your hands lying over his.

“It’s fine Harry can handle things. I told him if we happened to wander off he needed to cover for us.”

“Timothèe Chalamet did you plan this?”

“Are you joking? I literally told you I’ve been into you since the very first time your sister showed us a picture of you. I’ve been flirting nonstop and glued to your side for the last 12 to 15 hours. Of course I planned this!”

#timothée chalamet #Timotheè Chalamet x reader #how tf do i tag this #🤣🤣🤣#words by rhys

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ratherchaseamouse · 1 year

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Ok things I noticed/thoughts after seeing tour 6!!

I really had so much fun however I am being a bit of a hater at times just a warning

The choreography really heavily featured the kittens, I was missing the adults, particularly Munkustrap, Alonzo, and Bombalurina, where were they?

Tayler Harris was awesome! She didn’t ignore the detail that Grizabella is old and washed up, not just washed up. Her acting was so satisfying to watch I loved it.

Michelle E. Carter’s facial expressions were a gift and so was her amazing tap dancing. During bows she and Tayler were doing a little routine together it was cute.

Speaking of bows, Hank Santos and Tayler did their little handshake, I loved it.

I’m really sad about the new Bustopher Jones arrangement and staging, I did not like it at all. The performance itself was fine, but the material they were working with wasn’t great.

PEKES AND POLLICLES WAS FANTASTIC. 100% best number in the show, it was so much fun, especially the moments where Gus and Munkustrap were playing off each other. I just wish they kept Tugger’s bagpipe interruptions

Gus was fantastic in general, John Anker Bow’s voice was beautiful and round and. Well maybe I’m biased because Gus is already my fave but he left everyone in the DUST.

The transition from Rumpus Cat to Skimbleshanks was a little weird, because Gus didn’t have his last “moment of mystery”, which I guess makes sense as he didn’t have a flashback, he got to actually play Rumpus Cat.

LAST THJNF ABOUT GUS WHEN HE SAID “I ONCE PLAYED THE RUMPUS CAT” AND THEN OLD DEUTERONOMY RESPONDED “SO DO IT AGAIN” MY HEART MELTEDDDDDD

BRIAN AND TARYN REALLY SAID MUNGOTEAZER RIGHTS LMAO GOOD FOR THEM they were cuddling during Gus’s song it was adorable.

Brian’s voice holy shit I’m in love with it. Taryn too by all means not to shove her to the side but Brian really knows how to work that fry in there. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were just a delight to watch and listen to, loved every second.

Skimbledots, Demelurina, Jellypher, Cassoffelees and Tuggoffelees also got a lot of moments it was cute

Misto had a lot of interaction with the oldies, particularly Jennyanydots and Old Deuteronomy, but he was strangely absent during Bustopher Jones, it was instead Jenny who was helping him around.

Tugger was strangely absent after his number. During the Jellicle Ball he did very little, and he rarely left the sidelines, I was sad not to see him that much :(

Loved Hank Santos but the new Rum Tum Tugger choreo really is doing him dirty, he could go so much further with the old choreography.

There were two little kids sitting in front of me and they were absolutely adorable. They did not understand what was going on during Pekes and Pollicles and their dad was explaining it to them 🥺

The stage was very small and there was no aisle access, so they didn’t do green eyes or any of the aisle dancing in anything which was unfortunate but eh what can you do

In addition to the lack of aisle access, it was clear they had next to no fly space. They had the star lights and scrim, the ring-of-lights thing, and basically nothing else. The staircase to the Heaviside Layer extended awkwardly from stage right, and it didn’t retract fully back into the wing. It didn’t look terrible but it was a little clunky.

Multiple times throughout the show, most notably in the Macavity Fight and the Jellicle Ball, the tempo felt like it was dragging just slightly. The more hip-hop choreography is not as fluid as the ballet, so when the tempo is slower the choreo can’t flow with it, it just feels like it’s pausing and playing.

The Victor costume that Deuteronomy wears during JSFJC was so slay actually he had a little duster and a little tunic it was great I loved it.

I know I have been a hater of tour 6 wigs and makeup before. I still wasn’t big on the wigs but the makeup looked good from the audience! It still could have looked a bit more cat-like but it was a nice effect overall, especially Ibn Snell, Kade Wright, and Tayler Harris. The wigs were still yucky but it was tolerable.

Bombalurina and Demeter were fantastic! Their voices were gorgeous and I’m mad we didn’t see more of them, Bombalurina particularly, she was really sidelined.

Sam Buchanan as Macavity was not interesting to watch sorry. However I did find it interesting that the new choreo and arrangement makes a point to draw parallels between Tugger and Macavity, hearing some of the same motives was a nice Easter egg.

Andy Blankehuehduehalebgjer sure loves lifts, huh. They got boring after a while and I don’t think they were really very cat-like. His additions in general really didn’t mesh super well with the original choreo. In places like the Mistoffelees dance break, where it was just his stuff, it worked alright but in Frankenstein numbers like the Jellicle Ball his choreography stuck out like a sore thumb.

Kade’s singing voice does not match his speaking voice holy shit I was surprised

Hank Santos is shorter than I expected

The bit in Moments of Happiness where the twins are channeling Old Deut’s wisdom into Sillabub was restaged for whatever reason and now it just looked stupid?? Old Deuteronomy just. Bopped Coricopat on the head and then Tantomile bopped Sillabub on the head and they went away it was so dumb.

As I was driving away from the theater I saw Dominic Fortunato and I believe Max Craven walking on the sidewalk and I rolled down the window to drive-by-compliment them and they yelled thank you at me it was funny

All in all I had a freaking fantastic time!!!!!!!!

#blue’s thoughts #cats the musical #long post #cats us tour 6 #favorite posts #< so I can find this later

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cassieuncaged · 1 year

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Grave Bound - Chapter 10

Chapter 9

Summary: Maggie writes letters she never intends to send.

TW: nightmarish imagery, wounds and slight medical gore, language, etc.

WC: 3 K

1970

Their encampment was combined with another as soldiers were sent home, alive or dead. They’d began to drop like flies after Elias’ ambush. Barnes’ had been apprehended, King’s tour ended, Taylor and Francis were injured, O’Neill was transferred to another platoon, Lerner and Wolfe sniped during an attack. Maggie hardly recognized the faces of the dying men being carried into the meager infirmary. There was always the fear that she and the other nurses would be next. Something that became reality rather quickly when fire began to rain down upon them in the middle of the night.

Napalm exploded in the middle of their camp as hellfire roared and crackled from every direction. Dirt was upended in explosions of dust and sod as a thicket of teak trees were set aflame. Maggie and Rachel sprinted outside, following Caldwell to the makeshift barracks. Men scurried about to fight off the invasion as another sheet of canvas shriveled to ash.

Harris shouted orders as Rhah and Warren led their squads into the ensuing battle. Shrill screams broke through the night as terror enveloped them all. Nurses began to dart from their tent as a new wave of flames erupted. Rachel led the way into the burgeoning wall of flames as Maggie followed suit. The brunette easily hopped to the far end of their barracks where a distinct voice could be heard while Maggie helped Mary evade flames licking at bare ankles. The blonde held the meek woman in a tight embrace before disappearing into the labyrinth of gunfire and smoke.

“Shit! Mags!” Rachel roared, “It’s too late for Debbie.”

“We’ll mourn later. Get the hell out of there!” mustering the best scream she could, Maggie lunged forward as the flames grew higher. Soot and ash sprinkled hotly against bare shoulders as a flimsy bunk pelted forward. Pulling the mattress off the frame, the red head reached back to grab the other woman’s hand.

Fingers barely touching, Rachel was pinned back against an open flame. Panicking, Maggie stumbled to grab at the metal with a shred of fabric. She nearly burned the skin off her palms when Rachel’s hair caught on fire. Singed and burning, tan skin blackened as long chestnut locks were charred to a melting scalp

“Run!” Rachel demanded in a shriek before letting out a blood curdling scream. The woman was completely engulfed, skin boiling as Maggie struggled with the concept of leaving. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she sprinted for the exit.

Another explosion rattled the structure, sending her plummeting to the ground. Before she could get back to her feet, a piece of metal wobbled forward and pinned one hip down. Letting out a silent scream, Maggie struggled to get anyone’s attention as her was reduced to hoarse whimper. Digging her fingers into the solid ground, she attempted to wriggle free. Overtaken by a white-hot pain, she screeched as loud as possible. The sound of boots squelched in the mud outside, though the woman had no way of knowing who it was before vision swam and flickered to nothingness.

……

The nightmares haunted her every night, being trapped and to burn alive like Rachel. One of the closest friends Maggie ever had, ripped so unceremoniously from the world. She often wondered what the boisterous woman would be up to if she were still alive.

Rachel was the person Maggie had always aspired to become. Strong and direct, she had often stood up for the red head who’d always been inept at handling conflict and confrontation. Something that was painfully relived as she recovered in her parents’ home. Thankfully, it was spacious, affording the nurse more than enough privacy from a rather apathetic Carol and Lou. Recovery wasn’t as grueling as expected, other than a limp resultant of a hairline fracture and treating residual burns.

The skin was festering, scabbing with pus as her body slowly repaired itself. It still stung, especially as the woman changed her own bandages every morning. Peeling away another layer of damaged skin revealed bright pink beneath it. A dollop of lotion was applied heartily. Hissing at the contact, she coated the entirety of the wound from sternum to pelvis.

A jagged piece of gauze was gently taped to the expanse of her torso, burns stopping short of her breasts and hip. The doctor had mentioned extensive scarring, something had made her heart leap into her throat. She was only thirty; surely she wouldn’t be marked for the rest of her life? It was a superficial worry, one Maggie attempted to shake; she’d come back alive, that was enough to be grateful for. Shrugging on a loose-fitting dress, the woman slowly padded from the bathroom to the dining room table. Her father was likely at the office. Her mother busied about in the kitchen, stalking to the doorway as she retrieved a set of stationery.

“You’re up late.”

“Decided to sleep in,” Maggie tried to mask her annoyance; she’d never tried very hard to better their relationship. “Wasn’t feeling all that wonderful.”

“Did it help?” the words were caring though Carol remained thoroughly detached. Messy hair bobbed as she sat at the table, checking the ink in the pen before pulling out a fresh sheet of paper. A soft sky blue, cheery yet subtle. “Haven’t seen any of those make it to the mailbox.”

“That’s because I haven’t sent them.”

“Don’t you think your friend would want to read them?” The nagging coax was painfully saccharine reminiscent of a mother who never cared until she had to.

“I’m not writing them for Elias. They’re for me.” That had been the truth; the letters felt like the last connection they had, the only true closure she’d ever really get. It was less painful then sending them to his likely grieving parents only to hear the news she never wanted.

“Whatever helps, dear.” Sighing, Carol strode back into the kitchen with a swish.

“I finished the lacquer on that crucifix.” Maggie called out in a hopeful attempt to bond, “Maybe we can hang it above the mantle.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Margaret,” she scoffed from the other room, “That’s where the family portrait goes. We’ll find a place for your little art project, don’t worry.”

Hanging her head, Maggie couldn’t say she was shocked. But it made her heart ache all the same. Instead of beating a dead horse any further, she attempted to bury herself in the letters.

Nothing ever really quelled that aching feeling.

……

Dear Elias,

I’ve never been one for writing letters. But I can’t help but thinking that I owe you that much. Every time I call the operator for your home phone number, I clam up and slam the receiver down. It’d be a lie if I said I wasn’t afraid. Afraid that you aren’t roaming the world anymore.

Frankly, I don’t think my frail heart could take it. You’re the one person I’ve had such a deep connection with and it’d be painful to find out that such a bright flame had been put out. I wish I could punch Barnes in the face all over again. Break his nose and chip a tooth.

Suppose you wouldn’t even know what I’m talking about. I know you aren’t one for violence any more than I am, but I pummeled that monster during your operation. Rumors spread pretty quick while Harris handled the legalities and I went rabid…I never got an answer for why he did what he did. Maybe because of that day you never told me about, the one in the village. I’m sorry for whatever happened there and that you couldn’t help. It’s all so trivial now. I fell apart when Taylor told me what happened. Even if you didn’t make it, I’m glad the boys found you.

I wish I could’ve held your hand and wiped the sweat from your brow during surgery. Maybe it’s for the best they didn’t let me near the operating table; Caldy said they had to work fast to get you ready for transport and everyone was afraid I would have just cried my little heart out and been in the way.

They would’ve been right.

Hoping you made it. For both of our sakes. Even if I never see you again, I just hope you’re still out there breathing. The world will be a little darker if you’re not.

……

Elias,

I have nightmares almost every night.

Mostly of Rachel.

I miss her greatly. She always said she’d find me when everything was over. What a lovely soul, even if that mouth of hers got us all in trouble. That woman could talk herself out of anything. Once she all but called Caldy an ‘old bag’ to her face. But every word was sugary sweet, oozing with confidence that Caldwell just smirked and let it go.

Remember how she’d get drunk and dance to The Doors back in the barracks? I think all the Bravo squad boys were in love. So vibrant and full of life. Now she’s gone and this damned war is still rolling on. As far as I know, I’m writing letters to a ghost. Still, I’ll continue. This is the closest I’ll ever get to goodbye.

‘Goodbye’.

What a terrible word. I never wanted to say it to you. I never thought I’d find someone that would fall in love me after my failed engagement. Then there was that bright smile beaming at me at base. That honeyed hair blowing in the hot wind, eyes that could pierce through my entire being…

You told me once that you didn’t think you were anything to look at. That’s a lie. I met the most handsome human on the planet. Lost him too. You’ll never know how much our time together meant to me. In those few years our paths crossed, I shared more with you than I had with anyone my entire life.

Always been a bit of closed book. But you took the time to actually open me up, give me a read…

Now that chapter is over. I wish it could’ve gone on forever. If only we met on a vacation or at a movie theater, we’d probably still have each other. And that cottage with the garden, a couple of dogs and a cat…

I’ll have to write another chapter on my own soon, but I don’t want to.

……

Dear loverboy,

Remember when King would call you that? Your ears would turn bright pink. It was cute. I miss him too. Thought about finding his number and giving him a call. See if he and Diana are still together. I hope they are. But if I call, then I’ll find out what happened to you. I like not knowing, even though it’s selfish.

I didn’t start this to ramble. Life has been rather eventful lately, and I wanted to share with my closest friend. My invisible friend. Sharon, my sister, has been lovely. That woman has always been more of mother to me than our actual mother. She snagged me a job as a school nurse in Brooklyn. Can you believe it? I’ll actually get to move to the big city. Well, the bigger city.

I’ll have to stay with her, Jimmy, and the baby until I can afford my own place but I don’t mind. Maura’s not a fussy baby. She loves when people smile which means she’d probably adore you. Maybe not as much as me, but a close second.

Shar’s the best. Did I tell you she surprised me with a kitten for my birthday? I guess it has been a while since I’ve last written. I’ll send a photo. I’ve named her Maddy. Carol and Lou aren’t crazy about her but they’ll keep that to themselves. I think they pity me. They shouldn’t. Because I have sweet Maddy to keep me company now.

She loves this toy I made her out of silk ribbons. Her little orange paw always swings out when it slithers by. What a cutie.

At least I’m not alone anymore.

……

My Dearest,

Do you still think about Hawaii? I think about it a lot. Not just…well, you know. The entire week. I forgot how good it was to have running water and hot meals. But to have you by my side? A blessing. The sunset on the Pacific was the prettiest one I’d ever seen. Pink bleeding into orange, waves of azure…it was a painting. You said I was a painting though I’ve never agreed with that. Everything just fit into place, like a puzzle. I miss the talking the most. Especially at night, in bed as the ocean lapped at the beach. We hadn’t known peace in so long.

Talking about sad childhoods or being excluded by family, I discovered that you and I were so alike. How you and King grew up together. You said he’d been more of a brother to you than your actual brother. Which makes me glad there was someone around for my sweet Elias.

This might seem crass, but I think about you when it’s late at night. How you kissed me so deeply like life itself depended on it or how those fingers memorized every last inch of my body. I didn’t know I could feel as good as I did then. And memories don’t do it justice.

I wish you were here. I’m tired of missing you this much. I wish you were here to hold me in those arms, those warm and inviting arms. I long to hear your heartbeat, to feel your chest rise with every breath.

I miss you. And it hurts.

……

I’ve given up on formalities at this point. I’d rather just pretend we’re having an ongoing conversation…

My new apartment is cozy. There’s always a car honking or kids jump roping outside. It’s not very quiet but I like the bustle of the city. Close to Sharon and Jimmy. She didn’t want her baby sister straying far. You’d like it, Elias. There’s a lot of quaint little record and antique shops, a deli that has the best sandwiches known to man, someone is always walking their dog down the sidewalk. I remember how much you loved dogs. If you’re still out there, I hope you have a dog. That would make me happy.

Also, if I ever send this, please enjoy smudged paw prints; Maddy stepped in the ink and made a mess. I’m about to start my nightly routine, put on Joni Mitchell and smoke by the windowsill. Your favorite herb, that is.

I can’t stand the taste of tobacco; too harsh and bitter.

Here’s to hoping I can wrap these up soon. As much as I miss you, I miss myself. I’m afraid the war has stolen from me what I can’t get back. A part of me is gone forever, I know that much to be true.

……

You’re a ghost, I hope you know. Every time I close my eyes, I’m haunted. There’s tears rolling onto my pillow nightly. ‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.’ Excuse my language, but that’s bullshit. Nothing is quite as painful as having lost love. I met a bright light in the dark, and now I’m in the dark once more.

I don’t know how to love again.

What we had was so passionate and beautiful, I’m not ready to give you up. Not yet. You were there and then you were gone and now you haunt my mind.

I love you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. No one.

I’ll always love you, ‘Lias.

1973

He sat on the sofa, Major resting his snout on one knee as the letters were slowly thumbed through. Tears welled in the corner of tired eyes as every word soaked into his soul. She’d laid her heart bare, exposed and beating. Feeling his heart shatter for the thousandth time that evening, the admission of love was enough to drive him back to tears. She’d said it once before, while he’d never returned the favor.

Grabbing for the phone, he twisted the cord around his thumb while punching the numbers in. Muffled ringing echoed in his ears. It was late and she was likely in bed, but this was important. It couldn’t wait.

He’d waited long enough.

“Hello?” Her voice was hoarse with sleep when the call was finally answered.

“It’s so good to hear you.” Biting back his sniffles, he grinned into the receiver.

“Elias? Are you alright?” Suddenly panicked, he could hear the sliver of restraint in her voice stopping her from bolting out the door to come to his aid.

“I’m fine. Just reading through your letters and I needed to tell you something.”

“If it’s to make fun of how cheesy they are, please keep it to yourself.”

“I love you,” he blurted out, “I should’ve told you that a long time ago. But there was never a good time.”

“Oh, Elias,” she sighed softly, feeling her heart rattling against her ribs. “I can’t even begin to explain how much I love you.”

“You already have, Wild Child.” Major licked away the tears from his cheek as he beamed in the lamplight.

#otp fanfiction #fanfiction #otp: dog tags and flower crowns #maggie x elias #platoon 1986 #q

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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

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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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ripmydenim · 11 months

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Thoughts on the Voice

I have never watched the US voice, I watched this season becos of Niall and I swear he did so good also the show was so entertaining? Definitely in Niall's wheelhouse of cheesy jokes, feel good artist supporting artist energy and such wholesome funny

I love how the Voice emphasizes the Voice duh and I think it feels so much more drama free than xfactor (granted I only watched one season and I do not have much experience with music talent shows)

But it's so wholesome it's not Abt the sob stories it's such a unique marketing tactic to use coaches who are already very established and great entertainers to sell the show and give it the fun and watchability

The skits are Soo cheesy but it's such good fun

Im so happy that u really didn't need much sob story or personal story at least in my opinion frm the clips it really emphasized the rehearsals and technical aspects of performance much more

Love Kelly Clarkson, Blake and Chance so much they are so funny and brilliant coaches. The banter between all four of them is top notch they are all so witty and personable

Gina my girl I'm so proud and definitely gonna watch out for ur music ur wicked game performance I have rewatched so so so many times. Pay attention to dynamics so that u can really highlight ur voice and range

I love Kala 💕 her voice is incredible and I love the duet Skinny Love with Gina and her blind performance both sides now so much I am definitely watching out for her in the future guys go sub to her YouTube channel.

Ryley Tate is so cutee and his voice is so unique and high u are a classic unique singer I believe u will go far I mean he have quite an intense fan base already. I love his cover of Billie Ellish I have also rewatched that so so many timess

Michael B was the dark horse but ur duet of heartbreak aniversary the runs were Soo goodd I love that duet. His voice is so theatrical and powerful. I loved seeing him prove to everyone his powerful voice also he reminds me of Evan Hansen and Harry Potter (lol in the Shawn Mendes cover)

Laura Littleton is so cute and energeticc in her blinds Sign of the Times and terrific song choice and making it ur own. I wish her Battles was more suited to her I can understand why she was assigned to the song and the battle but I wish she did more with it

Not to be all about Niall's contestants but tbh I only watched theirs but I saw Cait's performance of Whitney dude was so good and so powerful she really popped! Also the blinds for Holly Brand Im not a country person but dude that control was so impressive what a big voice. Also Mariah Kalia's blinds mad impressive tone and strong voice I respect ur decision to go with Chance girl for that hip hop stuff.

Banter wise so many iconic moments with Blake Kelly and Chance lol the I have glasses pitch and the chair turning and the dad-son dynamic and the duet with Kelly they look like they have so much fun on set such great coaches this season. Wish we could have gotten more of Blake Niall next season but let see how its gonna go

#i dont know how to fix the screwed up formatting on mobile im sry #so many thoughhttts and i didnt even watch the full show lmaoo #just clips online #im gladd Niall took the Voice offer #know that xfactor is his home but somehow Niall can just get away with stuff like this #he fits in so well on the voice #also i really expected Grace to win #i didnt think the finale was Gina's best #but omgg im so happy she won #also nice moment passing the torch to niall as blakes son #tho lmao kelly robbed 😭 but hey we respect her as the queen of the voice #niall really just waltzed into everyones hearts his first season of voice and settled right at home eh #okay sry too much coach talk #GINAAAAA IM SO HAPPY SHE WON #well deserved the growth week to week insanee #she also wants it so much ehh #her fam seems pretty cool to let her pursue this #some of the post interviews thoo ginaa pls talkk #i think she does great on the zoom interviews by herself the ones with Kala are good too #but with Niall he is a bit too overpowering i see him try to give the stage to Gina but the interviewers just have so much to ask Niall #she looks like a latina elf btw with her ears #very cute her outfits i am in love with that flower ensemble on semifinals #very chill and sweet i think she will go far :33 #hope the fandom adopts her i think we have already adopted her #as ashe said we like to adopt and welcome artists

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ennaakat · 3 years

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Please make it stop

#*Hip Hop Harry voice* Who's next #live action reboot #powerpuff girls #cw powerpuff girls #powerpuff cw #fate winx club #netwinx #winx club #totally spies #w.i.t.c.h #bratz #reboot meme #to clarify I mean 2 edgy 5 me adaptations #i know about the early 2000s Bratz movie

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nearlycassidy · 3 years

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ok this has just become a mini art series

courfeyrac and combeferre!

didn’t expect to be doing a les mis series but here we are

#art #les miserables #les miserables fanart #courfeyrac #combeferre #les amis de l'abc #artists on tumblr #illustration #*hip hop Harry voice* WHOS NEXT #maybe eponine?#oh wait no I already have joly sketched up #probably joly #I like joly #us hypochondriacs gotta stick together

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suga-kookiemonster · 2 years

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to add to my nct crushes: kim jungwoo

#i guess i'm finally ready to admit it LOL #he just has such a unique voice and is a really great dancer and is just so goofy and BIG #and y'all know i like them like that ☠️☠️☠️😭😭#ok i got me a 127 crush and a wayv crush *in my hip hop harry voice* WHO'S NEXT 🤪😂#jungwoo #nct #anyways everybody go watch the universe mv and get your whole entire life!!!bye #mine

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talesofstyles · 3 years

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Good Morning Indeed

absolutely no plot whatsoever, just a bit of husband and dad harry in the midst of the family’s morning chaos 😂

Harry

“Go get the condom on.”

“I’ll pull out, I promise.”

“Your pull out game is weak.”

“Oi, them’s fightin’ words.”

“There’s a reason we’ve got six kids.” Says the missus with a roll of those pretty—but sometimes deadly (please don’t tell her I said this)—eyes. “‘Sides, I’ve just changed the sheets yesterday. You are not coming on the sodding sheets.”

“Fine,” I sigh and reach down to the bedside table. Why is the drawer filled with sodding Duplo and those tiny, pricey Sylvanian Family bunnies? I’m guessing kid number two, three and four have something to do with that. A few more seconds of rummaging before I finally found my treasure in the very back of the drawer. I lay on my back as I sheath myself up, and seeing as I’m already here… might as well, right? I smirk at her as I say, “hop on then.”

“Fat chance that,” she mutters. “Do I have to take off my top?”

“Nah,” I shake my head, it’s cold, and I’m a considerate husband. “A flash will do. Just give me a visual.”

She rolls up my shirt that she wears to sleep, a really old white rolling stones t-shirt that has two holes and a loose thread hanging on for dear life from the hem. She looks homeless. Gorgeous homeless though.

“Nice,” I flash her a boyish grin, like a teenage boy seeing his first pair of tits. “You’ve got great racks.”

“You’re just saying that…”

I know what she sees when she looks at herself in the mirror and I wish she could look at herself through my eyes.

“Hey, don’t you dare. My babies grew in that body, that’s everything.”

Her tender smile hits me right in the gut. “I love you.”

“Love me enough to ride me?” I say with a playful flick to one nipple.

“Nice try.”

“I love you,” I mutter near her mouth and give her a searing kiss. I run my tongue over her bottom lip, then I kiss her down her neck, her cleavage and her breasts. I slowly circle one nipple, and she giggles, knowing it’s a well-rehearsed move that is guaranteed to do what’s needed. See, her tits are kind of like start buttons. No matter the situation, a little attention to those bad boys switches things around real quick. Her head slams back against the pillow. And she moans, holding my head in place.

We’ve got ignition lads.

I nestle my body on top of hers, and there’s a bit of wayward angling and poking until I find my way inside of her. And then it’s on. Two bodies writhing on the bed. My hips rotate in long, slow circles.

“Bollocks!”

“What? The condom isn’t broken, is it?”

“No, it’s bin day. I forgot to take out the recycling bin.”

“S’fine, we’ve got time before the school run.”

The bin’s sorted, back to the shag…

I slide my hands under her, bringing us closer. Rocking us faster. My forehead hovers close to hers and I open my eyes so I can watch. What can I say? I’m greedy like that. I want to soak up every gasp, every flicker of pleasure across her face. Pleasure I’m giving her.

Her breathing changes. It turns panting and desperate, and I know she’s close. I move harder, grinding against her, inside her, with every forward push. Warms sparks tickle my spine and heat spreads down until every nerve in my body is shaking. I slam inside her, burying deep as her hips jerk upward. She spasms hard around me, gripping me tight.

I rock back my hips and pull almost all the way out, but then I freeze. Because a dreaded sound echoes across the room, grabbing our full attention. It’s coming from the baby monitor. It’s a rustling, the sound of cotton rubbing cotton. Like snipers in the jungle, we don’t move a muscle. We don’t say a word. We wait, until the rustling stops. And all is quiet again.

Too bad it’s not for long. Because two thrusts in, a light comes on in the landing. Followed by small footsteps heading down the stairs. Shit.

“Harry, just come already. They’ll all be up soon.”

“I’m close… don’t rush it, you’re scaring it away.”

She grinds her hips. Also another well-rehearsed move that she knows will get me off. But I freeze again, because there’s a second set of footsteps and the sound of a toilet flushing. Oh, and the babies next door are starting to whimper.

Great.

“I’M HUNGRY!” That’s James, darling little cockblocker number four who likes to be fed on time. He’s three.

“WE’LL BE OUT IN A SECOND!” My wife shouts over my shoulder. “Harry for the love of god-”

I pick up the rhythm. Small beads of sweat form on my brow. She grinds her hips again, and I try to focus. “Just like that, fuck, keep doing that.”

“Sshh, keep your voice down.”

“IS THERE ANY BREAD THAT ISN’T 50/50?” That’s Eleanor, child number two. She’s seven, and she’s one of those children who seem to possess a discernible palate that knows when we’ve changed brands of baked beans or attempt to bring sugar-free fruit squash through the doors.

“IT’S THE SAME,” I reply.

“NO, IT’S NOT. DO WE HAVE OTHER FOOD?”

“THERE ARE SHREDDIES.”

“DON’T LIKE ‘EM.”

“PORRIDGE.”

“I’M NOT A BEAR!”

Honestly, seven-year-olds gunning for a fight this early in the morning can go do one.

The babies are starting to gather volume next door so I try to focus again. It only takes a few more thrusts before ecstasy wrecks my body, making me shudder. I press my lips against her neck as I come back down to earth. But I don’t move yet. I know we should get going because things are already chaotic outside our door, but I just don’t have the will yet. I’m considering going back to sleep for a minute or two. She won’t mind, will she? Well, I’m wrong. Because she proceeds to perform the move that seems to amuse every sodding woman on earth. And causes every man to squeal like a bloody pig. Without warning, she uses her powerful muscle to squeeze my extremely sensitive cock.

Girls, grab a piece of paper and write this down. I’m speaking on behalf of every man to walk on earth here; we hate that. We don’t think it’s funny.

I jerk back, pull out, and roll off her. I try to look annoyed as she giggles, and obviously I fail, because that freshly fucked, flushed-face makes it impossible not to grin back.

“CAN I HAVE JAFFA CAKE?” That’s Victoria, child number three. She’s five, and she’s yelling as she thunders up the stairs.

“JAFFA CAKE ISN’T BREAKFAST,” my wife shouts back as she sits up and hands me a nappy sack. “Harry…”

I wrap up the condom with it and toss it to the bin. “You’ve just taken me life force, woman, give me a moment.”

“CUSTARD CREAM?”

“NO.” We shout in unison.

“HOBNOB THEN?”

“STAY AWAY FROM THE BISCUIT TIN!”

“You want to wrestle a biscuit-hunting kid out of a cupboard and 50/50 bread drama or fussy babies with full nappies?”

“Babies.” I hear a small child get whacked by a sibling downstairs and I feel like I may have got the better deal here.

Next door, the twins are not happy. They’re six months old now, and they’re both teething. Thing one glares at me as I walk into their nursery and thing two stares at me stroppily from the corner of her cot. Their cheeks are scarlet, and thing one proceeds to bark at me like a seal. I pick his warm, sleepy, cuddly body and cradle it close to mine as I lay him down on the changing table. I smell the dampness. It’s definitely wee. He’s soaked through, I think I didn’t tuck his willy in when I last changed him around three in the morning so it sprayed in some upward motion and drenched his clothes. See, this is why girls are better than boys. There’s no way they can pee upwards.

After I put a fresh nappy and a change of clothes, I put him down on the rug so he can wiggle around while I grab his sister and sort her out. After six kids, I’m definitely a pro with baby duty and can practically change their clothes one-handed. The whole thing takes only a few minutes.

I cuddle the babies on each side as I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. They immediately reach out to their mum who’s cracking some eggs as soon as they spot her, knowing she’s the only one who can cure their hunger this morning.

“Uniforms!” She says to the big kids as she takes one baby into her arms. “We’ll do breakfast after. Please, please, please…”

Desperate pleas lead them to saunter out and up the stairs. I follow my wife into the living room and hand her the other baby as she plops down on the couch. She rolls up her shirt and the babies latch instantly. Tandem nursing is harder now that they’re a little older and aware of their surroundings. They’re trying to scratch each other’s faces as they nurse. “Oi, what’s this? You each get a tit, stop fighting.”

They seem to somehow listen to me and have stopped trying to poke each other’s eyeballs. We’ll see how long that lasts. “Finish the eggs?”

I nod. “I’m on it.”

I brew some coffee, finish the scrambled eggs, and pop the slices after slices of bread in the toaster. Breakfast is done just in time as my wife walks back into the kitchen with two full and happy babies. She puts them in their high chairs and I scoop a bit of eggs on each of their trays for them to nibble on.

George appears back in the kitchen clad in his uniform with his also dressed brother trailing behind. We always lay his clothes the night before on his bed and he gets dressed all by himself in the morning. And he’s getting better at it, seeing he only missed a button on his shirt.

“Hi mate,” I say as I fix his button and he flashes a toothy grin at me. I plop him down on the chair, he’s graduated from the high chair now but still uses a booster seat.

“No toast!”

“What do you want then?”

“Chee-yos?”

I nod before I grab a handful of cheerios and set them on his plate next to his eggs. Then I take a few steps back across the table. “Hey, James, set it up.”

He flashes me another toothy grin before he opens his mouth wide and keeps it open. I hold a single Cheerio between my fingers while I bend my knees and bounce my hand as if I were dribbling a basketball. “Three seconds left on the clock, down by one. Styles got the ball. He fakes left, he drives in, he shoots…”

I toss the Cheerios in a high arc. It lands right into his mouth.

“He scores! The crowd goes wild!”

James holds both hands over his head. “Core!”

“Viv stole the biscuit tin, you know? She ate three jammie dodgers upstairs.” Eleanor says as she walks in with book bags and school shoes.

George, seeing his sister walks in, proceeds to open his mouth wide and flashes her the half-chewed eggs on his tongue. It’s his current thing and it annoys his sisters to death. The young’uns think differently though as they double over in laughter.

“Eeewww!” She shrieks. “You’re so gross!”

“VICTORIA, PUT THAT BISCUIT TIN DOWN AND GET YOUR BUTT IN THE KITCHEN! AND GO GET THEM HAIR TIE THINGIES…”

“I didn’t have any biscuits!” She yells and runs down the stairs.

This kid is the quintessential daddy’s girl. She climbs up onto my lap right away, handing me the brush and a hair tie.

“See, poppet, I would’ve believed you if you didn’t leave evidence all over your face,” I arch one of my eyebrows as I sweep a speck of raspberry jam on the corner of her mouth.

“You always do a ponytail,” she huffs.

“Either that or I give you a bowl cut with kitchen scissors. I reckon that fruit bowl will do. Your choice.”

“Can I have some more eggs?” George asks with his mouth full of his last bite.

“God, that’s like your third serving,” Eleanor grumbles.

“Nag.”

At that insult, Eleanor flings a piece of toast like a ninja. Before George can retaliate, my wife gives them both the look.

“Viv, will you at least have some eggs?”

“No.”

“Fine,” my wife sighs. “I’m gonna get changed then.”

I glance at the clock and, well, shit, I should get dressed too. “Can you lot watch the babies and try not to kill each other for the next five minutes?”

“Five quid each?” Eleanor tries to negotiate. “Babysitting isn’t supposed to be free, you know? That sounds like child labour to me.”

Bollocks.

“Two quid each,” I give her my dad look that says the offer is final and indisputable.

“Deal.”

#harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #dad harry imagines #dad harry styles #dad!harry #husband!harry #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles ff #harry styles one shot #the styles gang

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headcanonsandmore · 2 years

Text

Time Spent Apart

Summary: Ron and Hermione meet during the summer before fifth year. Time spent apart makes the heart grow fonder, and all that...

Tagging: @princesserica84

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Read on FFN. Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione’s throat seemed to close up. Ron was standing on the bottom step of the staircase, and was grinning down at her, one hand resting on the bannister, and the other on the wall. His hair had grown out slightly, and the small amount of childhood puppy-fat on his face had disappeared. His arms and legs seemed to have grown even longer, and his chest had bulked out, so that his t-shirt was stretched over his muscles.

‘Er, Hermione?’

Blushing furiously, Hermione realised that she had been staring at Ron with her mouth open for several seconds now.

‘H-hi Ron,’ she stammered, trying to compose her face.

Ron looked down at his chest.

‘What?’ he asked, puzzled. ‘Have I got mustard down my front again?’

Hermione smiled.

‘No. Just…you look…different.’

‘Yeah, if “different” means that he looks like even more of a gangly prat,’ chortled Ginny, elbowing Ron out of the way, and giving Hermione a hug.

Mentally cursing the Weasley siblings’ propensity for picking on each-other, Hermione gave Ginny a reproachful look as she pulled away. Ginny, however, didn’t seem to notice, and walked off to the kitchen, still chuckling under her breath.

The atmosphere between Hermione and Ron seemed to turn icy, like the temperature had dropped. Ron gave a sad sigh, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

‘So, good summer?’

‘It was okay.’ Hermione mumbled, not quite meeting Ron’s eyes. She had enjoyed seeing her parents again, but she had also spent the few weeks since the end of term missing Harry, Ginny and especially the redheaded boy who stood in front of her. ‘You?’

Ron shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

‘Do…do I really look different?’ Hermione was startled to hear the worry in Ron’s voice. He was clearly conscious about his appearance, and Ginny’s teasing was not helping.

Hermione locked eyes with him, and she smiled warmly.

‘Ron, you look great,’ she said, her cheeks feeling slightly flushed.

‘Really?’

‘To me, you always have done.’

Ron’s eyes widened slightly, and his ears turned a subtle shade of pink. He gave a nervous smile.

‘Thanks.’

‘No problem.’

He hopped down off the step, and stood in front of her. He seemed to be even taller than normal, and Hermione felt her heart beat faster.

Ron bent down to lift up her trunk.

‘You’re staying in Ginny’s room,’ he said, as he began to haul the heavy object up the stairs. ‘I’ll show you the way.’

‘Thanks.’

After what seemed like barely seconds, Ron had dumped her trunk next to the spare bed in Ginny’s room, and was leaning against the door to catch his breath. Hermione tried not to stare as he wiped the sweat from his brow, and how his t-shirt was clinging to his muscles more than ever.

‘I almost forgot that you keep half a library with you at all times,’ he chuckled, as he brushed his long hair out of his eyes.

‘They’re called books, Ron,’ Hermione exclaimed, praying that her cheeks weren’t flushing. ‘You should read one someday.’

Ron laughed, his cheeks dimpling as he did so. Hermione’s stomach did another backflip; making Ron laugh was something that always did funny things to her. Especially since most people never found her funny. But he always did.

‘You know, sometimes I wonder why you hang around with me,’ he gasped, clutching his sides. ‘And then I remember that we bicker with each-other like no-one’s business.’

‘Honestly, Ron!’ Hermione placed her hands on her hips. ‘I’m not friends with you just because I like bickering with you.’

‘But it’s the main reason, right?’ Ron smirked, giving her his patented lopsided grin which never failed to make her heart beat fast.

‘You’re impossible!’

‘Thanks.’

She glowered at him for a moment.

‘In actuality, Ron,’ she continued. ‘I hang out with you because I enjoy your company, as impossible as that sounds.’

Ron’s eyes widened slightly. He evidently hadn’t been expecting her to say that.

‘Er, thanks,’ he mumbled.

Ron stepped forward, looking nervous, and, (before Hermione knew what he was doing) pulled her into a hug. Hermione breathed in his sweet, warm smell, and felt her stomach flip as his large hands patted her softly on the back.

‘I missed us bickering. I missed you,’ he whispered, almost to himself.

Hermione swallowed, wrapping her arms around Ron’s enormous back.

‘I…I missed you too,’ she murmured.

They awkwardly broke away from each-other. Ron rubbed his neck again.

‘Dinner will probably be ready soon,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘Mum’ll call you down with Ginny.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Hermione couldn’t help but feel somewhat self-conscious. She wasn’t really used to Ron displaying physical affection to her, but she…quite liked it.

Ron turned to leave, and began to walk through the door. However, just before he reached to close the heavy door, he stopped and turned to look at her.

Hermione felt his blue eyes focus on her, and her insides gave an exhilarated moan. Ron bit down on his lower lip, looking deep in thought.

‘You…you look great too, Hermione.’

He reached out and closed the door quickly, and Hermione heard his heavy footsteps as he began to descend the staircase outside.

She continued to stand where Ron had left her. Her hands rose slowly to her mouth, and her knees felt weak.

Oh, Ron, she thought as her heart continued to pound, you impossible boy…why do you have to make this so complicated…?

~~~~~~~~~

Happy Valentines Day, everyone! Hope you enjoyed this little drabble!

#romione #ronmione #romione fanfiction #romione fanfic #romione drabble #drabble #harry potter fanfiction #happy valentines day #tw: food mention #missing moments #romione missing moments #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermione #hermione x ron #ron/hermione #hermione/ron

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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

Text

I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N’s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends, but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 3 years

Text

Growing closer

summary: Harry and Loralie spend the night at Y/n and Milo’s flat for the first time and the kids spend time getting closer to the others parent.

warnings/disclaimers: mentions(?) of smut, its not much. i wont ever write much again because i hate writing it and i’m horrible at it so this is the most you will get, sorry! barely edited so sorry about that!!!

Y/n invited Harry and Loralie to spend the night. She decided to take their relationship to the next step and make plans for Loralie and Harry to come over and spend the night. She went down to the market earlier and got some ingredients for dinner, stress cleaning her flat, and helped Milo clean his barely used room before the two came over.

Now they sit in Y/n living room, Milo and Loralie on the floor playing together while Harry and Y/n set up on the couch together, sipping some wine. A random Disney movie plays, none of them are really paying attention to it, it’s mainly on for background noise. They finished dinner not too long ago, they had an arugula salad, then garlic Parmesan pasta. It was amazing and they all scarfed it down but now they are bloated and tired. “It’s almost Loralie’s bedtime.” Harry whispers, pecking Y/n’s jaw. She giggles, pulling her head away from him and standing up.

She pulls Milo up, kissing his cheeks. “It’s time for bed, babe.” She says, softly bouncing him on her hip while she takes him to his bedroom, glancing back to see if Harry was collecting Loralie and joining them. They settle the kids for bed, changing them into pajamas and saying their goodnights, tucking them into bed then checking for monsters and leaving a kiss on their heads.

They head back out to the living room, sitting on the couch and resuming their wine drinking and movie watching. They cuddle under a thick fluffy blanket, Harry’s head resting on her shoulder while they both sag into each other. “Thanks for inviting us over.” Harry hums, his lips finding her shoulders.

Y/n nods, kissing the top of his head. “It’s no problem. I love being around you guys.” Harry’s kisses travel further up, tickling Y/n’s neck. “Yeah,” he hums on her neck, his nose rubbing alongside her jaw. She giggles, pushing him away. “Our kids just went to bed!” She says, also a little nervous because this would be her and Harry’s first time if it goes anything past kissing. Harry shrugs, lifting her up bridal style and giving her a rough kiss.

Y/n laughs, jumping down. She wraps her arms around his neck, slotting her lips with his. Harry’s arms wrap around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him. He sloppily leads them to her bedroom door, knocking over an empty wine glass on the way, knocking into a wall, and finally accidentally slamming the door against the wall once he got to it.

Y/n giggles on his lips, pulling away to look around the corner. Milo and Loralie yank open Milo's bedroom door. “Shh!” Milo says, his hair already a mess and his eyes dropping with sleep. The parents hold on a laugh, Y/n covering her mouth with her hand. “Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s go back to sleep.” Harry whispers, turning the kiddies around and leading them back to the bedroom. Y/n joins them, a small smile on her face. They tuck them back in, kissing their foreheads and heading back to Y/n’s room.

“We better just head to bed.” Y/n says from her closet, tossing out some pajamas for herself. Harry nods, deciding they can try again another night- a night there their kids are being baby sat. They get cozy in bed, flipping on the TV. They watch some news for a bit, getting updated on a few things before they switch it off, turning off the side table lamps. They settle into bed, giving each other a goodnight peck. “There is always next time.”

***************************

When they wake up the next morning it’s absolute chaos, grumpy children and tired parents, everyone trying to get ready for the day and make breakfast. “No, sit down. You can play later.” Y/n says to Milo, pointing to his chair and setting his breakfast in front of him, some eggs, a half piece of toast, and two pieces of sausage. Usually she is lucky if most of his food doesn’t end up on him.

“Okay! Wear your pajamas for the rest of the day. Whatever, just go eat, please. And no more raising your voice at daddy or you're taking a nap early today.” Harry says, trying to keep his voice calm while he tries to settle down his two year old.

Y/n softly laughs, “looks like we’re both struggling.” Harry nods, still in his pajamas and his hair a mess. They have both been so focused on their grumpy children that they haven’t even had time to brush their teeth let alone take a gander in the mirror and see how frightening they truly look.

“Here’s some breakfast for your troubles.” Y/n offers a plate to him, setting a fork down on it making a little clink. Harry thanks her, joining the kids who are rudely eating with their hands and not even giving their forks a thought (but they were toddlers so no one cared). Y/n eventually joins them, setting her own plate down with a yawn.

“What are we doing?!” Milo asks, Harry tiredly laughing. “We are eating breakfast, mate.” He says, giving him a tired smile. Y/n laughs at the interaction, covering her mouth, “No, H, he means like… what are we doing today?” Y/n informs him, a giggle in her voice. Harry raises his eyebrows, “ohhh,” Harry nods, “yeah, I knew that.”

“Well we’re gonna let them go home, baby. Then I gotta go down to the shop.” Y/n smiles, pushing Milo's sippy cup toward him.

They finish up breakfast, Harry helping Y/n clean the kitchen before they finally get themselves ready and part ways, having a long goodbye.

*******************************************************

Harry was taking Milo out today and Y/n was taking Loralie out. Harry and Y/n talked and they thought it would help grow their relationships, even though Harry was already best buddies with Milo, and Y/n and Loralie were the best of friends they needed to become more or parental figures than best friends with the kids. So they arranged to take the other out and get to know them more, treat them like they would their own children instead of a friend.

Harry was going to take Milo out to a baseball game and Y/n is taking Loralie out to get Mani pedis, to the mall, then to dinner.

Harry and Milo were already at the baseball game, getting settled in while Y/n and Loralie are on the way to their nail appointment.

Harry and Milo get settled in their seats, the game not started yet. “Are you excited for the game, bub?” Harry asks, looking down where Milo is sitting in his stadium seat. Milo nods, giving him a thumbs up while he plays with his toy dinosaur. “Dinosaur.” he says, making it walk up Harry's arm before making the brachiosaurus bite his shoulder. “Munch munch! He got you!” Milo dramatically says, standing up in his seat. Harry laughed, gasping and backing up a little, “Ahh!” Milo giggles. Harry didn't even know where he got that dinosaur from, he didn't see it on the ride over so he must have stashed it in his pocket.

“Okay, bub, smile for mummy. Gotta let her know we made it here safe.” Harry says, pulling out his phone and opening his camera, leaning toward Milo and smiling widely, Milo smiling widely and closing his eyes, his small dimples poking out. Harry chuckles, pulling the phone away and sending the photo off to the little boy's mum.

Harry: Already having bunches of fun! *1 attachment*

“Loralie, text your daddy back and tell him I'm trying to drive” Y/n jokes, making Loralie look up at her while she's strapped in her car seat. “What?” she asks, making Y/n laugh, pulling into the nail places car park. “Nothing, Lora. Let's get our nails done, girl!” she sings, unbuckling her car seat and pulling her out, softly setting her down on the concrete and holding her hand while they walk into the nail salon.

They get seated together, Loralie giggling at the chair massaging her back. Y/n snaps a photo of her to send to Harry later when her fingers aren't wet. “What color did you pick out?” Y/n asks Loralie, turning toward her. “I got purple, daddy likes it.” Y/n heart swells, Loralie is such a sweet girl. “Good choice!” she smiles, looking at the light pink color she picked for herself.

“Are you having fun, Milo?” Harry asks, watching the boy eat a snow cone almost the size of him that he purchased for him not too long ago. Milo nods, smiling up at him while he spoons another mountain of the ice treat in his mouth, getting it all over his nose and around his mouth. Harry laughs, “Here, bub.” he laughs, handing him a paper napkin. Milo takes it, messily wiping around his face. Harry nods watching him try and get it off, glancing back at the game.

The announcer yells as the better runs to home base, making a home run. Milo cheers with the crowd, pumping his small fists in the air. Harry's eyes widened, laughing for the thousandth time today. How did he know anything about the game? Milo looks around, still excited even though the crowd has died down. Oh, he was only excited because everyone else was.

“Our nails are so cute!” Y/n cheers, walking out of the nail salon. Loralie squeals, looking at her purple fingers and toes. “Lets send daddy a photo!” Y/n says, putting her hand out, Loralie quickly joins her hand between their bodies. Y/n takes the photo, sending the one she took earlier of Loralie and the one she took just now to him before getting them back in the car.

Y/n: Our nails are done :) *two attachments*

They zoom to the mall, hopping out and walking around first, looking at some stuff through display cases, perfume, pretty (but super expensive) jewelry, and some old lady jewelry. Then they head up the escalator (Y/n and Loralie holding hands extra tight because Loralie was scared), going to look around at all the different stores they have.

Loralie stops a candy store, gasping and pointing to it. Y/n instantly laughs, leading her to the candy store. “Okay, we're only getting a little, we aren't telling daddy, and we are gonna eat it after dinner, ‘kay?” Y/n asks, Loralie looking up to her, nodding as if she was keeping the most precious secret. They collect their candy, definitely getting more than they should have, but it was worth it to see the little girl so happy.

Loralie squeals, running out of the candy store, one arm clutching the candy bag and her other hand still holding Y/n’s hand. Y/n laughs, walking with her. Y/n had expected to feel a little awkward today, not sure what to talk about or how to treat Loralie but she's had a bunch of fun with her and she already feels that parental role taking over.

They end up in a random kids store, filled with stuffed animals, toys, kids jewelry, and clothes. “Look!” Loralie basically yells toward Y/n, showing her some play pearls. Y/n smiles, taking them and nodding. “Like what daddy wears!” she gushes, making Y/n pout, she's the most adorable girl. “Yeah, let's get them and you can match daddy.” Loralie nods, pulling another off of the display and holding it up to her. “For Milo” she smiles. Y/n pouts, kissing the top of her head.

“Sounds good, babe”

“Want a hat or something, Milo?” Harry asks, looking around the gift shop with the boy. Milo shrugs, more interested in making his toy dinosaur crawl up Harry's leg. Harry chuckles, pulling the toy up on his hip, “let's get you this hat” he says, flopping the small hat on the boy's hat before stomping over to the cash register, feeling heavy and bloated from all the crappy baseball stadium food they ate today.

They buy the hat, Harry placing it back on the toddler's head and walking back to the car with him on his hip since he was half asleep. “I've had a great day with you, bub.” Harry says to Milo, almost to the car. Milo sleepily places his head on top of Harry's, closing his eyes, “me too.” Harry's heart squeezes, thinking he could cry. “I'm happy you did.”

“Dinner was good!” Y/n smiles, throwing away their trash from their huge slices of food court pizza. Loralie smiles, wiping the rest of the greasing from her face on the back of her hand then wiping it on her pants. Y/n laughs at her actions, wiping off her hands. “Well, I guess it's time to go meet daddy and Milo!” she hums, pulling her up on her hip and heading back down the escalator to hop back in the car to drive back to her flat.

They get back to her flat in about twenty minutes, heading up the stairs. She unlocks the door, placing a sleeping Loralie on the couch before she heads to her bedroom, changing into some pajamas. She hears a soft knock on her door, unlocking it and opening it to find Harry with Milo sleeping in his arms. Y/n laughs, “just lay him on the couch” she whispers, pointing over to the couch.

Harry places the boy on the couch softly, making sure not to wake him. He walks over to the counter, watching Y/n get a glass of water. “How was your day?” he smiles, leaning over the counter, kissing her. “It was a lot of fun.” he admits, smiling widely. Y/n smiles widely back at him, “Good. I had so much fun with her. We had a blast.”

Harry smiles, “That's amazing to hear, babe. Now I gotta get the sleepy girl home” he peers over the couch, watching his daughter sleep for a second. Y/n shrugs, “or you could spend the night again?” she smiles, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. Harry smiles down at her, kissing his head.

“Yeah, maybe I'll stay the night.”

please reblog if you liked it and tell me what you thought!!!

taglist: @romionefp @harrystyles-tpwk @wholesomestyles @evanjh @hopeyoustaythenight @harrysddtittys @harrysdimple05

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cyarskj1899 · 1 year

Text

I’m so glad that Jimmy jam and Terry Lewis are being recognized by the rock and roll hall of fame. If there’s anyone who deserves this honor it’s definitely them

The Rock Hall of Fame opens to Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis

“It's all about taking people — young, old, white, Black, straight, gay, Democrat or Republican, whatever — and for the time we’re on stage, bring all of them together,” said Jam. “If you could do that, that to me is the magic of music.”

Associated Press

Nov 2, 2022

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NEW YORK (AP) — The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame this year will induct Eminem, Dolly Parton, Lionel Richie, Carly Simon and two guys in sunglasses who have scored more No. 1s on the Billboard Hot 100 than all of those other acts combined.

Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis are the rare songwriting and producing team to get into the prestigious hall, and they hope it will lead to more artists like them being inducted.

The duo’s chart-topping pop hits include Janet Jackson’s “When I Think of You;” Mariah Carey’s “Thank God I Found You;” George Michael’s “Monkey;” Boyz II Men’s “On Bended Knee;” Janet and Michael Jackson’s “Scream;” and Mary J. Blige’s “No More Drama.” They have five Grammys and went into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2017.

“I don’t know if you could ever recognize songwriters enough. I mean, they are the fuel that fuels everything,” said Lewis. “There are great songwriters out there that never get the shine that they deserve.”

One song in particular might typify the Jam and Lewis range — “Got ’Til It’s Gone,” which combines a folk sample from Joni Mitchell, the hip-hop of Q-Tip and Janet Jackson’s R&B voice. “We’re kind of at a crossroads or an intersection of a lot of different music,” said Jam.

Jam and Lewis started out in competing bands and became part of Prince’s band, The Time, in Minneapolis. After parting ways with The Purple One, the duo established a recording studio and production company. Their collaboration with Janet Jackson on her monster albums “Control” and “Rhythm Nation 1814” solidified them as hitmakers.

The Rock Hall on Saturday will also induct Eurythmics, Duran Duran, Judas Priest, Harry Belafonte, Elizabeth Cotten and Pat Benatar. Jam anticipated that one act closely associated with the duo would be the one who inducts them but didn’t go into specifics, raising speculation that it will be Janet Jackson.

They grew up listening to different genres. Jam was a pop fan, soaking in Seals and Crofts, America and Chicago. Lewis leaned more toward Parliament-Funkadelic and Earth, Wind & Fire. “Terry liked the funky bottom. I like the pretty top,” said Jam. You can hear that combo throughout their career, starting with their first hit, S.O.S. Band’s “Just Be Good to Me.”

They’re responsible for more than 50 Billboard No. 1 songs on the pop, R&B and dance charts for everyone from Rod Stewart and Sting to Patti LaBelle. They tailor the song to the artist and choose for themselves a non-nonsense wardrobe of black suits and sunglasses. Next year, they celebrate their partnership hitting its 50th anniversary.

“We’re kind of at a point of our careers where we don’t have anything to prove, but we still have a lot to say,” said Jam. “We just want to leave music in a better place, whether it’s through technology, whether it’s through the songs we make, whether it’s the people we influence that are making music now.”

Turn on the radio and you will likely immediately hear the influence of Jam and Lewis. Famed Swedish producer Max Martin channeled the duo while crafting hits for Britney Spears, the Backstreet Boys and NSYNC. Charlie Puth is a fan, and Bruno Mars gave the pair a shout-out on the Grammy stage for paving the way when he won album of the year for “24K Magic.”

One thing Jam and Lewis would like to see change is more recognition for the folks behind the tunes. Lewis worries that music today is often seen like a utility, a faceless service like water or electricity that’s taken for granted. Jam misses the days when a record sleeve included tons of information about the music makers, like the name of the engineer and mixer.

These days, it’s hard to find credits on streaming sites and the duo think that’s a problem. “What it does is it devalues the music because it communicates the idea that music just comes out of nowhere. It doesn’t come out of nowhere. There’s people in this,” Jam said.

After decades of making music for other people, Jam and Lewis last year made their debut album as artists, “Jam and Lewis, Volume One” featuring Babyface, Toni Braxton and Mariah Carey. They plan on more such albums and hope to perform live next year, too.

The goal then — as it always has been for these men who push the sonic envelope — is to build a musical bridge in this time of divisions.

“It’s all about taking people — young, old, white, Black, straight, gay, Democrat or Republican, whatever — and for the time we’re on stage, bring all of them together,” said Jam. “If you could do that, that to me is the magic of music.”

TheGrio is FREE on your TV via Apple TV, Amazon Fire, Roku, and Android TV. Please download theGrio mobile apps today!

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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Hiii I really love your work! Could you write about Tom secretly or not secretly watching yoi have a Zoom Uni class? And maybe he teases you in a way, trying to make you laugh or he sends you text messages or something? And later when you're done and he has a meeting,you tease him right back?

Hope you're having a lovely day 💞

a/n hey anon!! this was a really cute idea but I have another req for the vice versa bit, so only did the first half in this- I hope u don't mind :)

warnings: implied smut at the end but rlly just a fluffy cringe fest

////////////////////////////////////////

Early mornings where never you’re favourite and this one wasn’t an exception to the rule. The LA sun was flooding through the curtains that had been hurriedly thrown almost-closed last night as you huffed into the duvet. You needed to get up - but you definitely didn’t want to. To be fair, you’d only arrived the day before and were still acclimatising to the jet lag - though Tom’s presence certainly made everything alot easier.

Especially as you’d been without him for so long, the pandemic meaning you hadn’t been able to make the long-weekend trips you usually would’ve. So when at the beginning of may, Tom had offered for you to come out and stay with him for half the summer (while he was busy working). There was only really one answer…. free holiday with the absolute specimen of a human who you call your boyfriend? Yes please.

It did mean though, that you had flown out before the end of the semester. Only by a week and it didn’t make much difference because you only had a few zoom lectures - but they were compulsory. So even if you were living in the US, you had to follow your UK school timetable. Hence why you had to get up at 6:30, to make your UK time 14:30 lecture.

The arms around you seemed to have other ideas, huffing and only pulling you tighter when you tried to wriggle out of his embrace. You groaned in annoyance, mainly because he was making it more and more tempting to stay huddled up against him.

“Toooooommm I gotta get up” Clearly not agreeing, he just squeezed you to his chest tighter, whilst emphatically shaking his head - all with his eyes still firmly pressed shut.

“Let go! I have a lecture!” Still not letting up , he just shook his head once again - making his bed hair especially wild as it dragged against the linen pillows.

With a sigh you turned in his death grip, now being able to see his puffy morning eyes pressed firmly shut. First you arched up and pressed a soft kiss to his chin, then jaw and then nose.

“Seriously T, I need to show up to this one.” Because yes, you might’ve already had an absence from yesterday, where you had both slept through the alarm.

“-o it-’” Croaking so much so you couldn’t even puzzle out what he said, the man cleared his throat before trying again, the sound reverberating in his chest. “ uhmm do it from bed, don’t go.”

That had you pouting at his cuteness. Ever since you’d arrived he’d been unbelievable clingy to you, barely letting you out of his sight. You showered together; he sat and stared whilst you did your skin care routine; even at restaurants he insisted on sitting next to you with his hand on your knee. When you had asked him, the only reasoning you got was a shrug and a muttered ‘I missed you’. Never, ever would you complain about Tom’s attention. But…. you really needed to get to your laptop.

“I can’t babe thats not very profess-“

“-wont even be able to tell.”

As much as you tried, you couldn’t ever really deny Tom anything. Not when he cracked his eyelids open, revealing the softest warm brown eyes, coupled with a lazy smile. So yes, you ended up quickly getting changed into one of Toms old burgundy tops, running a brush through your frizzy hair and then clambering back into bed. You balanced your laptop on a tray on top of a box, so the angle was less obvious that your backdrop was a headboard. Instantly Tom had half-asleep turned over to lay his messy head on your lap. And with a half sigh half laugh, you logged on- once in the waiting room bringing a hand down to trail your nails through Tom’s hair which made him groan with delight.

It was all going so well too, up the point where breakout rooms were announced and you had to talk - your chipper voice and laughs with your course mates rousing Tom from his sleep. Every time he almost lifted his head into the view of the webcam, you were very quick to slam it back down, forcing him back onto your lap.

Eventually he got bored of the restrictions, as well as not being very into the history module you were all puzzling over- so slid out of bed into the shower. Once he was gone you did almost sigh in relief, you had thought that Tom in his friendly-idiot manner would end up getting you caught at some point. Especially as our relationship was so secretive, none of your course mates knew you weren’t single - imagine their shock if an a lister popped up in the zoom class.

But oh, the relief did not last long at all.

The issue was Harry had gone out for the day. It was just you and Tom in his fancy rented LA house. And, as mentioned, Tom was being clingy as hell. It couldn’t of been more than 20 minutes before the fluffy haired brunette was back in the room - pouting when he saw you still on the computer.

Even though you shooed him away, Tom just cocked his head to one side, a small smirk on his face. And you knew. You knew he was going to be a little shit. He slinked over the bed, perching at the foot next to where your feet lay.The warning look you shot him, metaphorical daggers coming out your eye did absolutely nothing - you watched his hand pin your right ankle down before stroking the sole of your foot. Familiar shivers shot up your leg and it took everything in you to not kick out, launching the laptop across the room as tickled you.

Soon though he stopped, you pulled yourself into a cross legged position, readjusting the laptop and trying to concentrate back on the lecturer. Seeing your disinterest, Tom hopped up off the bed and you thought he was leaving. But no. No you were wrong. He just stood at the foot of the bed, hands on hips as he appeared to listen intently to the lecturer too.

Clearly Tom was an actor, he was pretty good at accents. You should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to resist the impersonating your academic staff - who happened to have a strong Somerset accent.

Pretending to ignore Tom as he hunched up and widened his stance - to imagine the physicality of your lecturer- you narrowed your eyes at the computer screen. Then though, a deep booming farmer-like voice came out your well spoken south london boy - god you were glad you’d stuck the mute button on as soon as he had entered.

“And then as your reading in chapter twel-“

“And then as yowr readinf in chapter twelve….” Tom echoed the lecturer loud and proud, making it completely impossible for you to attempt to concentrate. As much as you wanted to be furious at him- well, all it took was one look.

He was holding his face in some sort of duck pout and all the movements were extra pronounced and exaggerated. You couldn’t help it- instantly you burst out laughing, having to turn off the video for fear of anyone noticing.

Seeing he’d got a rise out of you, Tom was only spurred on, continuing the dramatic acting with a new found confidence. That was until you got yourself under control, face turning like a switch from joy to fury.

“Shut the hell up!”

And he did, for a few minutes, whilst pouting like a told-off toddler. In a strop, he sat down, shoulders slumped at the edge of the bed. Oh how wrong your were, when you thought you’d won - with a satisfied smile concentrating back on the laptop screen. Just in time to hear the lecturer FINALLY starting to rounding up the lecture.

“Alright so next session we’re-“ Before he’d even stammered his way to the end of the sentence, Tom’s face had switched up once again - into one of mischief as he started crawling up the bed either-side of your legs. One strong arm reached out to touch the back of your laptop lid and before you could protest he was pushing it down, till it landed with a small ‘clunk’.

“You did not just do that!” Yelling at him, you sat up so now he was kneeling across your lap.

“But I just did.” He mimed a mic drop which had you cringing hard, staring at him in disbelief. Okay the lecturer was beginning to round off, but that conclusion could’ve gone on for 5 minutes at least!

“Oh you are so in for it Holland.”

You’d meant it as a threat, as a sort of ‘I’m-going-to-make-your-life-a-living-hell” but the bright eyed boy before you had other plans. Wordlessly he nodded, then placed your laptop on the bedside ; then pushed you down on the bed. His legs either side of you, his arms like rockets to pin yours either side your head.

“Ah but you see my love…” he tutted, with a wide smile, hhis breath fanning down onto you as he took your breath away. “That is exactly what I want.” Immediately his lips were on yours, the both of you fighting for dominance as you arched your head up to get extra purchase on him.

“I hate… I hate you… so bloody much” It was hard to talk when his intoxicating lips were moving against yours, melting away all your resistance.

“Hmmm… well its… its a good thing… that I love you.”

He was impossible and no doubt you’d missed the prep work for tomorrows lecture. But having him there, body pressed against yours, after months apart.

Well, you wouldn’t mind failing the module for him.

~~~~ let me know what you think <333~~~~

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hollandbaby · 3 years

Text

positions - t.h smut

a/n: thank you for requesting !! (2.7k words)

disclaimer: smut (18+), praise kink, spanking, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !!!)

Your new single has just released, along with a music video, and Tom was so proud of you. He hadn’t heard the song yet, you wanted this single to be a surprise for him, but seeing as you were busy today meeting up with your team to work on promo for your upcoming album, Tom decided to make the boys watch the video with him on the TV in his living room. The boys all gather round, Harry jumping on the sofa next to Tom, Harrison curled up on the other end with his feet resting on the coffee table while Tuwaine sits in his armchair, all facing the TV and chattering and laughing with one another. Tom starts up the TV, and can see that your music video is on the trending page, he smiles to himself as all the boys cheer, excited at your success. They knew if you were there you’d be super appreciative of all the support. Tom clicks on the video, the boys all watching intently as your name pops on the screen, followed by the song title ‘positions.’ Tom’s eyes immediately widen, a slight flush adorning his cheeks as the boys all taunt and tease him, knowing damn well if the lyrics are as suggestive as the title he’ll never hear the end of it.

“This song actually bops, y’know,” Tuwane chimes in, dancing along to the rhythm.

“Of course it does, it’s y/n, we all knew it’d be amazing,” Harrison adds, knowing how much music means to you and watching your success over the last few years continue to grow.

“Mate, the visuals on this are incredible,” Harry is focused on the aesthetics more than anything, appreciating the director’s vision.

But Tom is focused on you the whole time, and how stunning you look in each shot, but also the lyrics to the song. He feels his cheeks flush, knowing this song is about him. Tom has a distant smile on his lips the entire time watching the video, he cannot get over how gorgeous you look on top of how this song is about him. The video ends, and the boys are all praising the video, the song, the vocals, everything while Tom taps away at his phone, dropping you a text.

are you switching positions for me?

Tom locks his phone, not expecting a response straight away but his eyes shoot down to the screen as your message pops up; you know it, baby ;)

Tom smiles to himself, joining in the conversation with the other boys about their favourite aspects of the music video and the song.

“Tom, what was your favourite part of the video?” Tuwaine asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I think we all know what Tom’s favourite part was,” Harrison smirks, referring to the scene where you’re on your knees, checking your food in the oven, ass on display. Tom shoves Harrison, all the other boys taunting him, chuckling to themselves.

“Yeah so funny, H. Obviously I loved the whole video, but yeah, I mean who wouldn’t enjoy seeing their girlfriend in that position.”

“We all thoroughly enjoyed it,” Tuwaine butts in, Tom throwing a pillow at him. “It’s all jokes, man, we know she’s off limits.”

“Yeah, you better be joking,” he chuckles. The boys carry on, playing some fifa and messing around for the rest of the day. After playing a few games of fifa, Tom pulls out his phone, scrolling through instagram. He sees you’ve posted a clip of your new song, liking and commenting what you doing on monday? ;)

The comment gets thousands of likes within minutes, Tom smiling to himself as he reads the replies. Your response pops up and he bites his lip as he reads; guess you’ll have to find out 🤭

All the replies start rolling in, a bunch of fans, both yours and Tom’s, replying to the comments absolutely losing their shit. Tom smiles, reposting your post to his story and locking his phone again before heading to the bathroom for a shower. Tom runs the shower, playing your song and putting it on repeat as he hops in, washing his hair and humming along to the tune, letting the hot water run on his tense muscles, exhausted from the shooting he’d been doing recently. After a few minutes, he hears the door open and instantly knows it’s you, a smile gracing his lips as he feels the shower door open.

“Hey, love, how’d you get in here?” He pulls your naked body close to his own, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Your own hands make their way to his shoulders, smiling up at him.

“Harry let me in, said you were in the shower so I thought I’d join you.” You bite your lip, pushing up against Tom’s bare body. “I’m guessing you like the new song?”

Tom let’s put a breathy laugh, his eyes twinkling as he softly smiles down at you, “I love it, babe, the video, too. I’ve been playing it on loop.”

You smile up at Tom, biting your lower lip before reaching behind him for his shower gel. You pour some into your hands, lathering it up before moving your hands back to Tom’s shoulders, moving them in circular motions to clean his skin, your hands moving down his chest. “What’s your favourite lyric?”

Tom sighs contentedly, loving the feeling of your hands on his skin, “probably the line ‘cooking in the kitchen then I’m in the bedroom’.”

You playfully smack his chest, rolling your eyes at him as you smile. Of course Tom’s favourite line would be the one insinuating food and sex. “How did I guess that’d be your favourite?” Your hands work down his arms now, soap lathering on his skin as the water from the shower hits Tom’s back. Tom grips your hands in his own, moving them back up to his shoulders before leaning down and pressing his lips against your own in a soft, yet needy, kiss.

“I missed you today, love,” he whispers, voice raspy and deep. You meet his eyes, deep brown irises darkened with lust. You feel Tom’s hands trail down to your ass, squeezing your skin before giving a sharp slap to each cheek. You bite your lip, the impact making you jolt forward a little, your breasts pushing up against Tom’s chest.

“Hmm, did you now?” Your own hands travel down Tom’s back, giving his perky bum a quick squeeze before they move around his waist, feeling his hard abs beneath your fingertips, you run your fingers up his torso and chest. One of your hand dips lower, teasing around his erect cock sitting against his stomach, ghosting your touch on him. Tom let’s out a low growl, pulling you into him and kissing you passionately. You kiss Tom back, a mesh of teeth and tongue in a fit of fiery passion, your hands roaming his warm skin as his grope at your ass, water running down both your bodies. You bite your lip as you pull back, breathing heavily as you say “shall we get a little more comfortable?”

Boy, I’m tryna meet your mama, on a Sunday

Tom nods, pecking your lips again before you reach behind him, turning off the shower. Your wet body presses against his and you can feel his hard cock on your stomach, your pussy clenching at the thought of having him inside you. Pressing another kiss to Tom’s puckered lips, you turn and open the shower door, stepping out and wrapping yourself up in a fluffy towel. Tom follows suit, wrapping a towel around his waist before moving behind you and slapping your ass playfully. You leave the bathroom, which luckily is right opposite Tom’s bedroom, and hurry into his room, Tom following behind you, hair dripping, droplets of water falling down his broad shoulders and chest. He closes the door behind him, and you’re immediately in his arms again, your hands snaking their way up to his wet curls as his own wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. Tom pushes you against the nearest wall, lips moving against your own, his hands making their way down to your thighs, encouraging you to jump up. You do so, wrapping your legs around his towel clad hips, your own towel lifting up with your movements, your bare pussy feeling the friction of Tom’s towel. You moan against Tom’s lips, your hips grinding against his own, feeling his hard dick through the towel.

And make a lotta love, on Monday

“Drop your towel, Tommy,” you speak against his lips, one of Tom’s hands moving to his towel, untying the knot and dropping it to the floor, his lips never leaving yours. You feel his cock against your thigh, your pussy clenching, aching to have him inside you. Tom’s fingers creep under your towel, ghosting around your aching heat as he teases your folds, not quite touching where you need him to. You’re whining into the kiss, your hips pushing forward in attempt to make contact with his slender fingers.

I don’t need no one else, babe

“You’re so needy, aren’t you?” He taunts, breathily chuckling against your lips, his breath tickling your chin. You nod, hands pulling him into you, his lips back on your own in a fiery kiss, growing more and more passionate as you grind your hips. Tom finally makes contact with your wet entrance, groaning at how ready you are for him already. His digits slide through your glistening folds, to your clit, rubbing and teasing as your heart beats faster in your chest, legs beginning to shake at the sensation. “Want me to fuck you right here?”

‘Cause I’ll be

You groan, eyes rolling back as you nod your head against Tom’s bedroom wall, your pussy aching as you let the towel fall from your chest, Tom ripping it off the rest of the way and revealing your perfect breasts to him. Tom’s lips are on your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin as he continues rubbing your clit, feeling how your legs shake for him. You reach between your bodies, gripping Tom’s hard cock in your hand, pumping him before guiding his tip to your entrance. Tom’s cock slides into you easily, your head rolling back as you moan, Tom letting out a grunt at the feeling of your warm, wet walls around his aching dick. He thrusts up into you, holding your ass as he pushes you against the wall, keeping you in position, the tip of his cock nudging your g spot with each stroke, you clench down on him, hands gripping onto his shoulders as he fucks up into you.

“Fuck, just like that, Tommy.” Your voice is breathy, panting, heart racing as Tom’s thrusts speed up, hands gripping your ass and your back arching into him, boobs pushing against his bare skin.

Swtchin’ the positions for you

You feel your back being ripped from against the wall, helping gently as Tom turns while holding you, your hands clinging to him as he pecks your lips, sitting on the edge of the bed. You unwrap your legs from his waist, pushing your knees onto the bed, Tom’s cock never leaving your grip the whole time. You start grinding on him, hips moving up and down slowly at first, finding that rhythm that sends you both into a euphoric state. Tom pulls you in for another kiss, feeling your body push up on his as you begin to bounce on his cock, clenching on him as you pull up before sitting back down, the friction rubbing your clit just enough. “Such a good girl for me.”

Cook in’ in the kitchen then I’m in the bedroom

You whimper, Tom’s hands squeezing your ass, guiding your movements along his dick. Your grip on his shoulders tightens, feeling yourself edging closer to your high. “You look so, fuck, so pretty bouncing on my cock, angel.” Tom’s voice is deep, raspy moans escaping his lips every so often as he watches his cock disappear into your pussy, your head rolling back as you continue your movements. Tom wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him again before swiftly placing you on the bed, rolling you onto your stomach and separating your legs, knees bent before thrusting back into you. You moan into the sheets below you, the new angle ensuring Tom’s cock hits deeper than before, hitting that sweet spot inside you. You lurch forward with each thrust from Tom, his arms either side of you, holding up his weight. Your eyes roll back, your hands gripping onto the sheets as Tom’s skin slaps yours, filling the room with lewd noises. Tom’s hand moves to your hair, gripping a fistful and pulling you up, you can hear your wetness as he fucks up into you. His fingers move from your hair around to your neck, fingers gripping your throat as he fucks you.

“God, you’re always so fucking tight for me.” Tom’s voice shakes, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he feels your cunt clench on him, your wetness making his movements easier, your back arching as Tom’s grip on your throat tightens ever so slightly, just enough to make you breathless in the best way. You moan, Tom’s tip hitting your g spot in a particularly sharp thrust, making you lurch forward. Tom pulls out, flipping the two of you over, so he’s lay back on the bed, you on top; “I want you to ride me, baby, reverse.”

I’m in the Olympics, way I’m jumping through hoops

You bend down to kiss Tom, moaning against his lips before turning around, legs either side of Tom’s hips as he guides his aching dick back to your soaked entrance, teasing your folds before pushing back into you. You push against him, sitting back on his cock, feeling Tom’s hips thrust up against your movements. You feel Tom’s hands grip your ass, he occasionally delivers sharp slaps to both your cheeks, leaving your ass stinging in the best way, your back arching with the pleasure. One of your hands rests on Tom’s thigh, the other moving between your legs to rub circles on your clit as you continue bouncing on his cock, your eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. “Fuck, Tom!”

Know my love infinite, nothing I wouldn’t do

“That’s it, baby, take all of me. Just like that, fuck,” Tom’s meeting your movements with his own, staring at your wet cunt concealing his thick cock, encouraging you to carry on; “keep rubbing your clit, love. Want you to cum on my cock.” You moan at his words, head rolling forward as you bounce on him, faster now, Tom hitting all the right angles inside you, your fingers working overtime on your sensitive clit, Tom hitting your g spot with every thrust. Your breathing is rapid, heart beating in your throat as your legs begin to shake, pussy clenching on Tom’s dick, his own hips thrusting erratically as he nears his high. “Cum for me, angel.”

That I won’t do

You do as told, hips slamming down as your cunt grips Tom’s dick, whimpers falling past your plump lips, bitten and bruised, as Tom reaches his own high, his cum shooting deep inside you as his hands grip onto your ass cheeks, his own legs shaking from his orgasm. You take a second to recover, panting as you come down from your high, pulling off Tom’s cock you feel his cum spill down your thighs. You turn around, straddling his hips as you flop down on top of him, Tom chuckling as he wraps his arms around you, tracing gentle circles on your bare shoulder as his other hand plays with your hair. You press a kiss to his collarbone, still exhausted from your activities.

Switchin’ for you

“Well, that was amazing.” Tom breathes, voice broken and chest rising and falling with his still rapid breaths.

“It’s always amazing with you, babe.” You giggle, fingers tracing the skin on his bulging bicep, his hand rested under his head. Tom presses a light kiss to your forehead, his arms gripping onto your waist before he flips you over again, you let out a quiet giggle before smiling devilishly up at him, hands reaching around his neck.

“I’m not done with you yet, love.”

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