oh!!

seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from France

seen from China
seen from Chile
seen from Canada

seen from Switzerland
seen from China
seen from Brazil

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Sweden

seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Brazil
seen from China

seen from Malaysia
seen from China
oh!!
living in your head
matty healy + daughter!reader
summary: matty is thrilled when you want to learn piano, until you start putting too much pressure on yourself (reader is 5 or 6 years old)
notes: thanks for all the love on my first fic! i’ve been in my writers flow so here’s another one, pleek enjoy <3
**~**~**~**~**~**~ **~**~**~**~**~**~ **~**~**~**~ **~**~**~**~
It didn't take much effort to make your dad proud. Matty took every opportunity to talk you up, even ones that didn't quite warrant it.
He claimed you were a genius in every sense, starting when you were a few days old and he claimed you knew how to wink. It continued up through your toddler years; he'd brag that you had extremely nuanced observations on Bluey.
Matty reached a new level of pride whenever you showed any interest in music.
He always loved watching you run around the studio or during breaks in rehearsals as the band did sound checks.
The guys each gave you tiny music lessons, Adam and Ross letting you strum clumsily while they held the notes. George would sit you on his lap and guide your arms to play the drums.
Matty did the same with the piano, listening to you mess around with a fond smile.
"Look! I can play so fast." You quickly ran your tiny fingers across the keys, making slightly sour notes as you tried to play all of them from lowest to highest like you heard your dad do.
He played up his reaction, dropping his jaw in exaggerated surprise to make you giggle and smile proudly.
"A glissando! Keep that up and we're gonna have to bring you on tour." He kissed the top of your head.
Matty nearly cried of excitement when a few days later you asked to take piano lessons all on your own.
And so he got you lessons, not knowing if they'd stick, but you surprised him again with how dedicated you truly were.
The house was constantly filled with sounds of your piano practice scales. Matty's favorite keyboard was adorned with rainbow stickers labeling the notes so you could practice.
He was sitting in the kitchen, talking through something about the upcoming tour with Ross when he paused his thought mid sentence at the sound of you playing.
“Wait-”
Matty scrunched up his nose up in the way he did when he was really feeling a song. He banged his head to every slow, out of rhythm note as you played Mary Had a Little Lamb.
"She's gonna be like the next Mozart, man." He smiled as he told Ross, who humored him. "You know he started playing when he was like 3 or 4, so she's really not too far behind."
"She's been playing nonstop, huh?"
"I can hardly get her to do anything else." Matty nodded.
After a few weeks of lessons, your piano teacher told Matty about one of the small children's recitals that you could perform in.
"What's a recital?" You asked him when he brought up the idea to you on the car ride home. You kicked your feet in your booster seat.
"It'd be kind of like one of my shows, but less people, and you'd be the one on stage." He tried to simplify the idea. "And I'd be the one cheering and clapping in the front row."
“Like I’d be in the band?” You perked up.
Matty’s heart melted and he nodded, “Yeah, just like that. It’ll be like your audition.” He teased.
He watched in the rear view as a big smile took over your face and you agreed.
Your obsession with practicing only increased from that point. On top of your actual piano lessons, you'd come home and run straight to the piano in the living room.
"Time for dinner, Bach." He'd have to pull you away for breaks, ignoring your pleads for more time.
It started to worry him as the recital approached. Two days before, he listened to you frustratedly whine and harshly pressing your fingers down to make sour notes each time you'd mess up your piece.
Matty pulled you away for the rest of the day, bribing you with ice cream and a movie, figuring you just needed a break or a nap.
But your serious attitude was back the next day and none of his attempts to cheer you up seemed to work.
***
The day of the recital finally came. You were sitting next to Matty, watching the other kids go up and perform their songs. You were toward the end of the itinerary.
Matty felt a tug at his shirt and looked down to see you staring up at him with a pained expression.
"Are you okay?" He whispered to you.
"Don't feel good." You mumbled pathetically, gripping onto your sheet music for dear life.
Matty's face fell and he pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. You didn't feel warm thankfully.
"I don't wanna—I wanna go home." Your eyes began to pool and your voice grew a little louder.
"Let's go in the hall, baby." He whispered. You took his hand and stayed close against his side as he guided you out.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" He crouched down in front of you and tucked some hair behind your ear.
"I'm gonna mess up." You sniffled, your voice breaking. Your cheeks were flushed as you held in tears.
"Aw, darling, it’s going to be okay. It's alright if you mess up, it's not a big deal." Matty's offered an endeared frown.
"You don't mess up at shows."
"Oh, I mess up all the time at shows." He continued when you looked unconvinced. He leaned in and whispered, "I forget the words to my songs sometimes, isn't that funny? And remember when George broke his drum stick?"
Your lips started to turn upward, but you stubbornly tried to suppress it.
A slow grin took over Matty's face and he poked your chest teasingly, "Look at me, I see you smiling." He tickled you.
You couldn't hold it in anymore and giggled.
"See, it's really not so scary when we make mistakes."
"And guess what? Music is supposed to be fun, darling. It's alright if you want to take a break from piano—"
"No!" Your frown was back and you looked distraught. "I can't."
"Why can't you?" He was concerned.
"Because then I can't go with you to all your shows."
"What?" Matty tilted his head.
"I can't go to all the shows."
"Are you talking about tour, love? With the band?" He held your waist to keep you steady.
"Yeah, yours. If I'm good at piano I can go on tour." You said.
"You're gonna come see me no matter what, darling." Matty was confused by this condition you set up.
"No. When you play an instrument you get to go with you the whole time. And sleep on the big bus." You explained matter-of-factly with tiny furrowed eyebrows.
"You don't—that's not how that works—" He held back a smile at your flawed understanding.
"You said if I was good I could go on tour." You said and suddenly it all made sense to Matty, effectively breaking his heart.
"Oh, darling, no, I was just joking. Is that why you've been so hard on yourself with learning? You want to come on tour?"
You nodded, your eyes pooling with tears at the stress you've been feeling.
"Oh, sweet girl, c'mere." He pulled you into his arms, standing up to hold you properly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have joked about that.”
You sniffled quietly and rested your cheek against his shoulder. Your under eyes were sore from all the times you roughly rubbed your palm against your face to wipe away tears.
"We've talked about this, baby." Matty's chest felt tight, "You can't, you're going to be having too much fun with Nana and at big kid school with all your new friends, yeah?"
"I wanna go with you." You shook your head.
"You're going to come visit, and I'm coming home all the time too, remember the calendar we made? And we're gonna FaceTime every single day."
"But I wanna be there the whole time."
Matty sighed, willing back tears of his own. "I want you to be there the whole time too. But remember how we said it's just for grown ups?"
"It's stupid." You whined a little and Matty bit back a smile, secretly endeared by your bratty behavior.
"I know it's frustrating. But you're gonna love big kid school; it's so fun. You get to learn all about science and math and reading. You'll be smarter than me in no time."
You didn't love that answer but Matty could tell you were starting to at least understand it.
He held you until your tears slowed and wiped your eyes gently with his sleeves. He set you down again, crouching back down to your height. He fixed your hair, brushing down the fly always and tucking it behind your ears.
"And listen, if you still want to go on tour when you're all grown up and out of school, I'd be the happiest Dad in the whole entire world." He smiled at you, knowing at that point he'd be the one begging.
You just blinked at him, the concept of being grown up too foreign and too far away for you.
"I mean, imagine, you playing piano, me singing—the people would go crazy, huh?"
"Yeah." You agreed finally and he looked relived at your verbal answer.
"Right!" He smiled.
He continued to describe silly details of the fantasy to help distract you until you calmed down a bit. He talked about the songs you’d sing, what you guys would wear, and where you’d go until you had your usual smile back. It was then that he approached the topic again.
"So, what do you think about this thing?" He gestured to the door, muffled piano noises still playing. He tried to sound as neutral as possible, not wanting to sway you if you had an opinion.
"I dunno." You shrugged.
"Are you still a little nervous?"
You just shrugged again and the nodded, "Yeah."
"Do you know how you felt before you went to preschool? How you didn't think you wanted to go?" He waited for you to nod, and then continued "And then you came home and you said it was really fun."
"But I felt that feeling before the doctor and that wasn't fun. I had to get a shot." You argued.
Matty couldn't help but laugh, quickly wiping his mouth to try and hide it when you glared at him not taking you seriously.
"You're right, you are. But I promise there's no shots today. Sometimes when we get the nervous feelings, it just means it's something we care about, not something we should skip."
"But it doesn't matter."
"Why not?"
"Cause I can't go on tour even if I do good."
"That surely can't be the only reason you've been learning, sweetheart. Isn't it fun sometimes when you're playing?" He challenged.
"I dunno." You mumbled.
Matty chuckled at your stubbornness. "C'mon, you do know."
You looked at him with another glare and he shot back an exaggerated, silly angry face back, which made you break and smile for a second.
"No matter what the reason, I think if you're up for it, you'll feel really good after. You've been practicing so much and it could be fun to show everyone and make yourself proud?" He titled his head as he spoke softly.
You took a minute to think as you fidgeted with the buttons on your dad's shirt.
"Can you stand up there while I play?" You asked.
"Of course I can." He nodded. “Ready to be brave?” He held his hand out for you to take.
He got some confused looks when it was your turn and he went up to the front with you. But Matty didn’t care about the audience, as he gently convinced you to let go of his hand.
He stood of to the side, phone out proudly filming, anticipating every note he’d heard you play in the house a million times practicing.
It was by no means perfect, but you kept going through your mistakes.
His favorite part came when you ended the song and immediately a pleased smile came to your face, your shoulders dropped and you looked up to find him.
He was cheering just a bit louder than was probably appropriate at an event like this.
And for the next two weeks he showed that recording to just about every single person he encountered, impossibly more proud than he’s ever been before.
A Girl’s Best Friend // dad!Matty
CW: none! Just fluffiness
WC: 1,836 words
A/N: I’m back! Finally got my writing spark back and I can’t wait to continue sharing my ideas xxx
The soft, hazy light of early morning filtered through the curtains, casting pale beams across the room. You could feel the faint warmth of Matty's body pressed against yours, his arm wrapped around your waist, his breath steady and slow. The house was still—until the sound of tiny feet pattering across the floor broke the silence.
Is there anyway I could get a dad Matty one shot where the little baba has a stomach bug for the first time 🥹🥹
My niece is sick for the first time and all I can think about is how sweet Matty would be with his little one
bless her, hope she’s doing alright
You’re standing in your kitchen, Matty carrying your exhausted daughter while you lean on the counter watching them, sympathizing with your little one.
“Let’s try some water, yeah?” Matty says after a moment, shifting her slightly in his arms, but she lets out a weak groan and shakes her head, pressing her face harder against his shoulder. “C’mon, love, just a little sip.”
“Noooo,” she mumbles, her voice small and broken. “Don’t want it.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes, gently bouncing her in that way he always does when she’s upset. “But we gotta get a little water in, okay? Just a tiny bit, for me? You’ll feel better.”
She shakes her head again, her little hands fisting in his shirt. She’s so tired, you can tell she doesn’t have the energy to argue, but she’s still refusing, too miserable to think about anything but the discomfort in her stomach.
You stand up and grab the water bottle from the side table, unscrewing the cap. “You don’t have to drink much,” you say, holding it out gently. “Just a little sip, baby.”
But she turns her face away, clinging to Matty like he’s her anchor in the storm. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. You hate this—the helplessness, the way you can’t make her feel better, no matter what you do.
Matty looks at you for a moment, then back down at her, his expression softening.
“Hey, love,” he murmurs, leaning his head down so his cheek rests against her temple. “You know when Daddy doesn’t want to do something, and you tell him, ‘C’mon, daddy, just try it?’” His voice is gentle, coaxing. “Well, now it’s your turn, yeah? Just try it for me, for daddy.”
She doesn’t move at first, and for a second, you think she’s not going to budge. But then, slowly, she lifts her head, her tired eyes blinking up at Matty.
He smiles softly, his hand cradling the back of her head. “That’s my girl. Just a little bit, yeah?”
With a reluctant sigh, she opens her mouth, just enough for you to tip the bottle and let her take a small sip. She swallows, grimacing, but doesn’t protest.
“There you go,” Matty whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You did it.”
You watch as she leans back into him, her little body limp with exhaustion again. Matty hands the water back to you and shifts her in his arms, pulling her closer to his chest.
“Let’s get comfy, okay?” His voice is soft, like he’s talking to both of you now. “Gonna feel better soon, promise.”
He walks over to the couch, sitting down carefully with her still wrapped around him. She lets out a small sigh, her cheek pressed against his chest, and you can already see her eyes drooping again.
“She’s so tired,” you whisper, rubbing your hand over your face. The exhaustion in your voice mirrors the heaviness in your chest. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Matty lifts his head slightly, careful not to jostle her too much. “She’ll sleep soon,” he murmurs, voice soft but firm, the way it always is when he’s trying to convince both you and himself. “She just needs a minute.”
“You’re alright, darling. We’re here.” Your daughter lets out a shaky, exhausted breath at Matty’s soothing words.
You watch as her tiny fingers clutch the fabric of his t-shirt, her face scrunched in discomfort. Her stomach’s been a mess all night, every time she starts to drift off, she stirs again, unable to settle. The poor thing looks miserable, and it breaks your heart a little more with every passing hour.
You step closer to the couch, sitting on the armrest next to them. Matty shifts to make room for you, lifting one arm so you can tuck yourself in next to him, your legs curled up beside his. His fingers never stop moving through her hair, his thumb brushing her cheek softly as if his touch alone could soothe the ache in her belly.
“She’s burning up,” you say, gently pressing the back of your hand to her forehead. “Maybe we should try again with the medicine.”
“Let’s give her a bit more time. She’s so close to falling asleep now.”
You nod, but the worry still gnaws at you. You lean your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment, just trying to gather your breath. The quiet of the room, punctuated only by the soft sound of her breathing and the occasional groan of discomfort, settles over you both like a blanket.
“She’s gonna be alright, love,” Matty whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, then to your temple. “We’ll get through this.”
You open your eyes, glancing at her again. Her eyelids are fluttering, as if she’s trying so hard to stay awake but just can’t anymore. You can see the exhaustion weighing her down, making her little body sink deeper into Matty’s arms.
“She’s so strong,” you murmur, running a finger down her cheek. "Takes after her dad."
Matty chuckles softly, the sound tired but warm. “Nah, that’s all you.”
You can tell she’s finally slipping into sleep, her breathing evening out, her face relaxing.
“There you go, baby girl,” Matty whispers, his voice barely audible as he rocks her gently. “There you go.”
You let out a long breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, your hand resting on her tiny back. She’s still, finally, and you can feel the tension in your own body start to ease, just a little.
“You should get some rest,” you whisper, running your fingers through his messy curls. “You’ve been up all night with her.”
“I’ll be alright. You’re here. That’s enough.”
You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back and resting your head against his shoulder again. For a few minutes, there’s nothing but the quiet sound of her breathing, the warmth of Matty beside you, and the stillness of the room. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough.
“You’re Perfect, Matty. Not only for me but for her as well.”
“You think so?”
You smile, “of course, babe. You’re our hero, she didn’t even once try to leave you.”
Matty looks at you with adoration, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.
“Love you, darling, so much.”
“Love you,” you whisper, closing your eyes, feeling tired from the unsettling night.
“You can sleep too, you know? I’d have both of my girls asleep on me, s’a dream.”
You giggle, “thank you.”
“Course,” he kisses you one more time, “anything for my girls.”
Robbers‘ Masterlist
Fix You - Blurbs of a Matty Healy fic
I - The record store
II - The first time holding hands
III - The missed kiss
IV - The first time having sex
V - The token of appreciation
VI - The First Valentine’s Day
VII - The one where Matty is scared
VIII - The Courtdate
IX- The phone call with Denise
X - The one where Lily provides help
?.1 - The talk with Tim
?. 2 - Matty's last rehab
?.3.1 - The baby journey (pt. 1)
?.3.2 - The Baby Journey (pt.2)
?.4 - The pregnancy anouncement
Valentine’s Day Present
Social Media AU I
Blurb: baby preparations
Epilogue - Old Wounds
Pinterest board, added on to on the go
gingerbread house - matty healy x reader
christmas prompt courtesy of @abiiors ♡
festive dad!matty
cw: fluff, f!reader, slight nsfw at the start, pregnancy announcement, just wholesome dad matty <3
wc: 1.6k
- december 12th 2021 -
matty dips his finger in the bowl of icing, smearing a dot of it on your nose with a giggle before you can protest. 'fuck off,' you laugh, pulling away and grabbing ahold of his wrists before he can do it again. 'oh, sorry, you have someth-' he reaches towards your face again playfully, before giving up and throwing his hands up in surrender as you duck away from him, wiping the white blob off your nose. both of you are in fits of giggles again, buzzing with pure love for each other.
'don't let me distract you darling, this gingerbread house isn't gonna make itself,' he adds, turning his attention back towards the slabs of biscuit on the counter.
Having Fun Trying
“shower sex!!” - anon
“Subby Matty? Or perhaps cum play 👀 or BOTH 😩” - anon
“Teasing and edging Matty!!! Please I’m begging for subby or whiny Matty 😭” - anon
Okay so I read like a whole bunch of Dad!Matty fics the other day and then I was on the bus earlier and there was a very cute toddler interacting with me, plus my friend and her bf keep talking about having kids and I just have visions of the Reader walking in on Matty doing like a glitter or slime thing with their kid or something and getting super messy, she puts the kid to bed and then the prompts kick in.
This is dedicated to the Sub!Matty, Dad!Matty, breeding kink, cumplay and shower sex girlies. I will feed us all.
Masterlist
Rating: 18+
Warnings: I guess super light BDSM if it’s Sub/Dom sort of stuff, cumplay (I wanna do a more intense one of this suggestion tbh, it’s kinda light in this), deffo subby!Matty, shower sex, breeding kink
Word count: 4.3k (This wasn't supposed to be a whole fic)
Thinking about your posts where you said people at Gigi’s school don’t particularly like Matty. Could we get a blurb of maybe RG and Matty or just Matty showing up at the school to pick up Gigi and a parent or school staff member confronts him? Maybe he gets to defend himself or even Gigi does?
matty is at the school gates with his hands in his pockets. it's chilly, and matty is tired. he is always tired. work is long and there's always people wanting things, wanting him, his words, his time, his thoughts. all he wants right now, is to watch his little girl's face light up when she sees him at the school gates, is to hold her hand as they walk home to you, is to hear about her art project or her circle time or her sums she's finding hard.
there is a group of women next to him, one in yoga pants, one in a pant suit with a skirt, one with those huge nike trainers on women are wearing these days. matty, despite his bank account, gets on more with the ones who rock up in trackies, like he is wearing now, dads who spend their evenings at the pub, mum's who work two jobs trying to get by. today he is too tired to talk to anyone. anyone except gigi, anyway, and you (you've already got the kettle on ready for his return.)
the woman are looking at him, he can feel it. he's got his eyes trained on the doors, where no children have emerged yet, still five minutes to go. one of the woman laughs. they turn to him then turn back to the group. they're all turned inwards, towards each other. one of them is kayleigh's mum. kayleigh who tells gigi she can't play with her. kayleigh who told gigi her halloween costume was stupid. kayleigh who got paint all over the table and told everyone it was gigi. gigi takes it better than him. she shrugs and says kayleigh is mean, and that she doesnt want to be friends with her, and that the teacher always knows that gigi is a good girl and wouldnt do what kayleigh blames her for. gigi says that kayleigh doesnt understand her halloween costume cos she still likes baby stuff. and matty, since he can't drop kick a six year old, has learnt to just do a half smile at kayleigh's mum, breathe and let it go.
except today he is in a bad mood and they are talking about him. he can hear it. he has heard the word "band" and "tour" and he has heard someone say "missing school" which he assumes is about gigi, because she spends some time on the road with him. he has no doubts that if he didnt bring her out to tour, then these women would complain too, about leaving her behind. there is no winning. he is a bad father. because of his career. because of everything they know about his past. everyone knows about his past.
he's trying to breathe and let it go. he's trying to pretend like he can't hear. he should move. the kids will be here soon. gigi will be here. except then he hears the words, "never here," and something inside him snaps.
"i'm here now, aren't i?" he barks at them. he tries so hard. and he misses his daughter with his whole heart when he is not with her, and do they not think, if he could, he would spend more time with her? they all look round in faux surprise, as if they are completely innocent.
"oh don't do that," matty says, "i have ears."
they all look at each other and shrug, frowning, except kayleigh's mum, who stares him out.
"we're just discussing parenting styles. that's all. and yours is... different," she says, still staring at him.
"i'd rather be on tour a few times a year, than have my daughter raised to think that it's okay to talk shit about people in the playground," he shrugs.
"can you not swear please?" one of the other mums says, "we're in a school."
"the kids aren't out yet?" matty says, gesturing at the playground, where only adults stand, "or are you deluded about that too, the same way you're deluded about the fact you were definitely talking shit about me a few seconds ago."
the door opens and kids pour out, running at parents, gigi in the doorway but not quite here yet.
"they're here now," kayleigh's mum says.
"your powers of observation astound me," he says, just as gigi cries out "daddy!" and runs at his legs.
"hi baby," he says to her, putting a big hand on her head where he neat little plaits you tied for her this morning have come loose and are wild and fraying. she looks between you and the other mums, sensing something is wrong, when kayleigh appears, thrusting something glittery into her mum's arms saying "look what i made mummy."
"oh wow that's beautiful darling," her mum says, crouching down to her to zip up her coat that is open. kayleigh starts fussing. whining.
"you ready babygirl?" matty asks, and gigi nods, putting her hand in his, as kayleigh dissolves into a full on tantrum, screaming with a red face on the floor, as the whole playground turns to her.
"kayleigh's crying," gigi says, plainly, as if it isn't obvious to everyone in the playground, or in a one mile radius.
"hmm," matty says.
"she's just getting her coat done up," gigi says, staring too, stopped.
"come on, love," he says, nudging her arm, "don't stare. it's not nice to be rude, is it?"
"no," gigi agrees.
matty starts to walk away, gigi trotting along beside him, not staring, but he does throw back one look at kayleigh's mum, who catches his eye. he waves, doing his little half smile, turning away and smirking.