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allylikethecat · 8 months

Note

i think it would be a crime not to request this on for the cuddle prompts, i live for matty being a small tiny baby

^ like i mean they're all curled up and look small, covered up so much that all they can see are big eyes peeking out and innocently blinking at them from the blanket. how do you want them to keep a straight face.

I agree! Not filling this prompt would have also been a crime! Thank you so much for sending it in!

I told myself when I started this whole prompt thing that I was going to complete them in the order that they were sent, then you, you lovely Anon sent this one in and I couldn't get the mental image of Fictional!Matty hiding in the blankets out of my head, SO I ended up finishing it next. I hope that was okay! Thank you for sending it, and I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think! (Even if you weren't the one that sent it you are also welcome to let me know what you think lol I thrive on constructive feedback!)

(If anyone else wants to send in Cuddle Prompts they can be found here)

Thanks again!

❤️Ally

melting because they just look so cute all bundled up in blankets

George frowned as he walked through the living room into the kitchen and found it absent of Matty. He had been feeling under the weather that morning when George had left for the studio, yet he hadn’t expected him to still be sleeping at nearly two in the afternoon. His frown deepened when he stuck his head into the bedroom and realized Matty wasn’t in their messy bed either.

When he found Matty, George was going to have to have a talk with him about the fact that even if he wasn’t going to make their bed in the morning, he could at least refrain from shoving all of the blankets and pillows into a large pile in the center. It didn’t help anything in the slightest and just made it more difficult for George when he inevitably had to put their bed back together himself in the evening, so they could get in it and go to sleep. He turned off the bedroom light, not wanting to waste electricity and shut the door- lest Mayhem decide to test his boundaries and climb up onto the bed.

George resumed his search, brow furrowing as he realized Matty wasn’t in the office, the music room, the back yard or the guest room either. George’s concern grew as he went room to room with no sign of Matty. His car was still in the garage so he couldn’t have gone far, and George really couldn’t imagine him going for a walk, without Mayhem, when he was feeling poorly- especially in the London rain that Matty resented on a good day.

“Where is your Dad?” George asked, sitting down on the couch next to Mayhem and reaching over to scratch behind his ears. He pulled out his phone and quickly selected Matty’s name from his recent calls list. He bit his lip, a weird sense of dread settling in his stomach as it rang and rang before going to voicemail. George ended the call and hit Matty’s name again, relief flooding his chest when this time Matty answered on the fourth ring.

“‘Ello?” he slurred, his voice rough and nasally, thick with sleep, causing George’s confusion to grow, even as it became tinged with irritation.

“Where are you?” he asked, jumping straight to the point.

“What do you mean?” Matty asked before cutting off abruptly, George could picture it clearly, Matty turning away from the phone to cough into his elbow.

“I mean where are you right now?” George asked, not sure how he could be any clearer.

“Em, in bed?” he said, his words coming out like a question.

“Where?” George asked, growing frustrated.

“What do you mean where? Our house? Where else would I be?” Matty asked, breaking off to cough again. “Can you stop and get me some Lemsip on your way home? I think I’m proper ill, I haven’t gotten up to check but I’m pretty sure I have a fever.”

“I’m already home and you’re not here, also there’s some in the pantry with all that tea your mum keeps bringing that you don’t drink.” George said.

“Why is it in the pantry and not the medicine cabinet that’s fucking stupid, also what do you mean I’m not here I am, literally in our bed.” Matty said, his voice taking on a weak crackling quality after his coughing fit. George winced, he sounded awful.

“I just checked and you weren’t there,” said George stubbornly, if Matty was that unwell George didn’t understand why he had left and why he was lying about it.

“Babe,” Matty rasped, “I am literally in bed right now come see for yourself.”

George sighed and stood up, giving Mayhem one last pat as he did so, his phone on speaker as he made his way back into the bedroom. He turned the light on and glanced around, still not seeing Matty.

“Are you trying to gaslight me or something? I know that’s something you’ve been working on with your therapist- oh my god.” George started, breaking off when the pile of blankets in the center of the bed started to move and suddenly Matty’s big dark eyes were peeking out of the mound, the rest of his face hidden by the blanket pulled over his head. He blinked sleepily, reminding George of the soot sprites in Spirited Away, he couldn’t see the rest of Matty’s face among the blankets giving him the appearance of just a large pair of eyes.

“I’m hanging up now,” Matty said, ending the call as George started laughing, wheezing as Matty continued to stare at him from the pile.

“I had no idea you were in there,” he giggled, “god you really are fucking tiny,” he said, stepping into the room as Matty shifted, sitting up so that more of his face was visible. He had never in a million years thought the blanket pile was big enough to hide Matty.

“I resent that,” he said, “I was just really fucking cold.”

“You probably have a fever, baby,” said George, coming to press the back of his hand to Matty’s forehead as if he knew what he was feeling for. Matty let his eyes fall shut, humming softly as he leaned into George’s touch like a cat. His forehead felt hot, though George wasn’t sure if it was from the fever or the fact that Matty had been trying to suffocate himself by hiding under every piece of bedding they owned.

“Probably,” Matty agreed, snuggling back into his blankets, he cracked open his left eye again. “Also stop laughing at me, I’m ill.”

“Could you even breathe under all those blankets?!” George asked, and Matty wrinkled his nose in indignation, not bothering to respond. God, thought George, at thirty four years old Matty shouldn’t still manage to look so adorable, especially ill and unshowered, his curls greasy and askew, two day old stubble shading his jaw.

“You’re so fucking cute,” George said verbalizing his thoughts, as he kicked off his shoes and undid his belt so that he could step out of his jeans.

Matty preened as George grabbed onto the edge of one of the blankets, lifting it up so that he could climb in next to Matty. He specifically decided against commenting that Matty had settled in the bed backwards, so that his head was where their feet usually were. Matty let himself be maneuvered into George’s arms, now orientated correctly in bed as George leaned against the headboard.

Matty sighed contently, burying his face in George’s tee shirt covered chest, George’s fingers carding through his hair.

“So,” said Matty after a moment, “I should have said this before we got comfortable, but about that Lemsip you said we have...”

#allylikethecat #ask ally #anon ask #prompt fill #cuddle prompt #cuddle prompt fill #Gatty #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy rpf #the 1975 rpf #matty healy fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

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abiiors · 8 months

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midnight, car lights 🌃 // george daniel x reader

a/n: a second fic for the george bbf!au that's been plaguing me lately!! (a third one is coming soon). also happy 10 years of self titled <33 i'm scheduling this to come out at midnight uk time tihi

cw: none really, just fluff and flirting. maybe a very tiny age gap?? like 2 ish years

wc: 3.3k

“let’s go on a joyride.”

those words bounce around in your head like the dvd logo, said to you at 11:50 in the night—whisper-shouted would be more accurate. from under your balcony no less, like some fucked up iteration of romeo and juliet.

so far you have failed to come up with a coherent answer for george who stares up at you expenctantly.

you lean over the railing, your curiosity piqued. "a joyride…” his words repeated back to him in a disbelieving deadpan voice.

he nods eagerly. in his hands is a tiny heap of small stones—the source of the clinks on your bedroom window that had scared you half to death. when george follows your gaze, he drops the rocks hurriedly, dusting off his hands.

“it’s a thursday night…” you point out.

he clicks his tongue. “and you’re clearly not doing anything.”

your eyes narrow at his little jab. sure he’s right but come on now, he didn’t need to point it out like that.

“my brother—”

“is out on his ‘date’.” he makes a little face at that and you stifle the urge to laugh at how icked out he looks. clearly, some more questions that you need to pester matty with. but that’s for tomorrow. right now you raise an eyebrow at the way he cuts you off and finishes your sentences.

“my parents—”

“are asleep!!” his voice acquires a borderline whiny quality. “i checked!” he confirms proudly and before you have the chance to present him with further counterarguments, he throws his hands up in the air.

“come on, little healy,” george’s grins a feral little grin, “scared you’ll get caught?”

you bite your lip, determined not to let him see your smile. it’s midnight, you’re in your pjs—an old ramones t-shirt and tiny shorts that barely come up to the top of your thighs—your hair is half out of your ponytail. in short, you’re the ugliest you’ve ever looked in front of george.

meanwhile he looks like he’s just stepped out of an indie rock magazine—black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt that hangs loosely on him and yet somehow fits perfectly and his beloved vans. at this point, you’re sure george could wear just about anything and still look drop-dead gorgeous.

“only a little drive? i promise i’ll get you back home in one piece.”

truth be told, you had made up your mind the first time he asked. a slow tingle of thrill slithers down your spine. the goody two shoes who’s never even smoked a cigarette before he came into the picture. about to sneak out the window at 11:56 pm.

“okay,” you mumble to yourself. the small smile you’d tried to stifle escapes anyway. “okay, fine.”

george grins and whoops silently, fists the air in triumph. it does something funny to your stomach–his excitement.

“hold on a minute,” you tell him before making a mad dash to your wardrobe for an acceptable pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

the subtle nude lip gloss is inviting but you know it’s too much. he’s probably just bored on a thursday night and has nothing else to do. so begrudgingly you settle on a lip balm and brushing out your hair.

it’s fine. it’s normal. and anyway, he’s not going to see you as anything more than matty’s little sister, so what’s the point?

another little rock clinks on your window followed by a soft whisper-shout.

“hurry up!” the clear impatience in his voice makes you giggle but you look at the mirror a final time, smoothing out your unruly hair. this is as best as it gets.

after all, this is not a date.

“can’t exactly fly out the window, george,” you respond drily as soon as he comes back into view.

he looks around curiously, toeing the grass and pulling it loose with his shoes. you can practically see the wheels in his head turning, generating ideas that you don’t entirely trust… matty’s friends aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed—not according to you anyway—but once george gets an idea, it is downright impossible to deter him.

“that looks good enough,” he mumbles but you catch it anyway, catch the spot his eyes are trained on and your stomach plummets about half a foot.

“have you—have you lost your mind?!” you stifle your screech halfway through, looking at the boy in front of you like he’s grown two heads.

george shrugs, looking the least bit bothered and points to the pipe next to your window.

“it’s sturdy, look,” he gives it two firm raps with his knuckles. “and there’s the brick for you to grab onto. and i’ll catch you.”

the last part has your ears perking up. you look at him with a raised eyebrow. it’s only a floor. the ground below you is soft grass that’s regularly mowed and looked after. if you fall, the most that will happen is a bruised ass (and a bruised ego). besides, the alternative is to go your through the front door and risk waking up the whole house.

“trust me!” he bounces on the balls of his feet, eager and impatient.

george stuffs his hands in his pockets, veins on his forearms taut with tension. his colourful tattoos are a stark contrast to his all-black outfit. should you trust him?

“if i fall—”

“you won’t!” he answers confidently. “i’m not going to let you get hurt.”

your heart skips a beat at how soft he sounds, mumbling the sentence more to himself than to you. a shadow of tenderness crosses his features, or maybe you’re just projecting. just a silly little girl with a crush on her brother’s best friend. a cliché.

“can’t let my best mate’s little sister get hurt,” he clears his throat. and your heart drops in your chest. of course not. to him you are nothing but matty’s sister. ‘little healy’.

“’course not,” you mutter begrudgingly and grab onto the pipe.

george stands below you, hands raised, neck craning to guide your steps down the exposed brick wall. there’s taking risks and then there’s whatever the fuck this is. regardless, you have put a disturbing amout of faith is george and now there’s nowhere to go but down. literally.

the last few feet loom between you and the ground. your sweaty palms almost slip and involuntarily a whimper escapes you.

“almost there, sweetheart,” george murmurs. that word snags in your brain. all thoughts fly away, and before you know it, you’re missing a step, foot slipping on the rough wall. there’s a split second of panic, the beginning of a scream that dies in your throat as soon as you feel a pair of hands around your waist.

warm, rough hands on soft skin.

george, holding you up.

you’re practically pulled flush against his chest, wide-eyed and flushed from the almost fall. funnily enough, the vertigo intensifies the moment you look up into his eyes. they’re just as wide as yours, mouth parted as if he was about to say something.

for a fleeting instant, time seems to stand still. the world around you fades into a distant blur as you and george remain locked in this suspended moment, bodies pressed close together, his towering over yours. his warm breath tickles your skin, and you can feel the rapid thud of his heart against your chest.

"are you okay?" george's voice is a hushed murmur, his grip on you firm yet gentle.

you manage a shaky nod, finding your voice after a few seconds. "yeah, i... i think so."

george's grip on you doesn't waver as he slowly guides you back onto the solid ground, his hands lingering on your waist for an extra beat before finally releasing you. you take a step back, both to regain your composure and to put some distance between the two of you.

"thanks," you mumble, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "i don't know what happened there." you giggle nervously, unable to stare directly into his eyes.

"no need to thank me,” he smiles, “just glad i was here."

the two of you stand there for a second, the weight of the almost moment hanging in the air. then, as if on cue, george's playful grin returns, diffusing the tension like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds.

"good to know i can make your heart race like that, little healy," he begins with a teasing glint in his eyes.

despite the heat creeping up your neck, a small laugh escapes your lips, the tension finally breaking as you roll your eyes at his cheeky comment. "you're unbelievable, george."

“right then,” he toes a small pebble, stuffing his hands in his pocket. “shall we?”

his car is cleaner than you expected.

sure there are some receipts and empty plastic bottles on the floor, even a jacket in the back seat for some inexplicable reasons but it’s nowhere near the pigsty that is your brother’s car.

“in you go,” he motions, casually holding the door for you. internally you’re grateful that he can’t see your flustered expression.

it’s a tiny gesture, barely even a gesture really—just a boy opening a car door for you. but he’s not just a boy. he’s george—the boy who makes you mad beyond belief and annoys you with the smallest of efforts. the boy who makes you stumble over your words. the boy who is your brother’s best friend.

“my my, george,” you tease to cover up your flustered silence, “manners. when did that happen?”

george rolls his eyes as he closes the car door behind you, and you settle into the passenger seat. you notice the faint scent of air freshener, attempting to mask any lingering odors from the cigarettes he no doubt must have smoked earlier. you glance sideways at him when he gets settled in the driver’s seat, unable to hide the hint of a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

"believe it or not," george retorts, putting the car in reverse, "i do have manners sometimes. just don't expect it all the time."

another playful taunt crawls up your throat, about to make it’s way out of your mouth when george casually just does the hottest thing you’ve ever possibly seen. your heart is in your mouth as you try not to stare at his arm behind your headrest. george, oblivious to your freak out, focuses solely on reversing the car from its little hiding spot. his cologne—something warm and smoky—fills the tiny car. a space that is so overwhelmingly him that you have to swallow roughly every couple minutes lest you do something incredibly stupid.

like grabbing his face and kissing him senseless.

especially with how inviting his light stubble looks.

instead, you pointedly stare out the window at the dull grey road beneath you.

“scared?” he teases, misinterpreting your darting eyes.

all you can do is shake your head. there’s no way you trust your ability to speak right now, especially as half of your brain is focused on not ogling his arms and hands.

this was a mistake. this was a stupid, idiotic, avoidable mistake.

“come on! aren’t you excited to do something reckless for once?”

you are, you really really are. there’s no denying it as the car finally maneuvers out of the parking spot and away from your house.

you let out a silent sigh of relief. the tension in the air begins to dissipate, and you take the opportunity to relax your grip on the seat. you sneak another glance at george, this time allowing yourself to truly take in his features.

his bleached hair is tousled—just the right amout of effortlessly messy, and his full pink lips only intensify the butterflies in your stomach. george is beautiful—from the way his hands grip the steering wheel with confidence to his jaw that tenses as he focuses on the road. all of it makes your heart race again. you can't deny your silly little crush, can’t deny all the times you have wished george was anyone but matty’s best friend. that you actually had the courage to kiss him. more than that you can’t deny all the times you’ve wished he would kiss you first.

“where are we going?” you clear your throat, distinctly aware of how breathy you sound.

george shrugs. “maccies, i think. been really craving some milkshake.”

and then he has the audacity to snicker at your gaping face. “a milkshake…” you trail off, wondering if hitting him on the head would be taking it too far. “sure, good to know i risked my life for your milkshake cravings!”

“pfft,” he blows air, taking his eyes off the road and training them on to you. “admit it, sweetheart, you were ready to, oh what was it? ‘risk your life’ for the thrill of it. don’t lie to me now, i saw it in your eyes.”

there it is again, the little flutter in your ribcage at the s-word. george seems so casual about it too, throwing it around like it doesn’t bother him whatsoever. and maybe it doesn’t, maybe he uses that on every single girl he talks to. the thought curdles in your stomach.

“fine then,” you huff, turning back to the window.

the mcdonald’s is a flurry of people—drunk and high students looking to satisfy their munchies, homeless people looking for a cheap meal and shelter. exhausted employees handing out orders with a dead expression on their face. you almost feel sad, making them prepare two milkshakes at this ungodly hour.

you turn to george who is busy studying the menu with the utmost curiosity.

“strawberry,” he mumbles to himself then turns to you. “or no, wait. banana?”

you quirk an eyebrow. “strawberry is superior.”

“which means that’s what you’re getting,” he replies and goes back to perusing.

“if you think, for even a second, that i would let you steal—”

“so territorial, sweetheart,” he teases, eyes still on the artificially lit board. “fine. two strawberries then.”

george places the orders, giving the cashier his winning smile and handing over some cash. she perks up slightly, eyeing him through her lashes while george leans against the counter. a sudden heat burns through you, wild and unpleasant.

heartburn, you tell yourself. the milkshake will fix it.

or maybe not looking at george being flirty would fix it but oh well…

so you turn around, finding yourself an empty seat and leave him to bring over the drinks.

minutes later, you almost jump out of your skin when george places the cool take-out container against the nape of your neck without warning.

“real mature, george!” the shriek causes a few people to throw distasteful looks your way but he looks absolutely unbothered and oblivious.

“such a grump,” he snickers and motions for you to follow him.

armed with your milkshake, you settle in the car once again. the car park is almost dead at this hour of the night and you wait for him to start the car back up, for him to tell you what the next steps are but george only taps tirelessly on the steering wheel. a complete 180 from five minutes ago.

tap. pause. tap tap tap. pause. tap. pause. it’s restless and rhytmless; not like his usual tapping where he’s lost in own tune. his milkshake sits untouched, condensation dripping onto the dashboard.

you wrap your lips around the straw, sucking on it noisely, sipping on the sweet, cool liquid while you observe him closely. “something’s on your mind.”

your statement makes him blink. so you’re right then, something is on his mind. he’s more fidgety than usual. in the stillness of the night, his thick swallows and knee jerks are painfully obvious.

“what’s up…” you trail off, unsure if pushing him would be the right move.

“there’s this–well. i want to–”

“this is new.” the amount of glee in your voice should be disturbing to you but you can’t contain it. because it is new.

you’ve seen george be arrogant and annoying, laddish and even on occasion, sweet. but you’ve never seen him be shy before.

“shut up,” he mutters to himself, then sighs loudly. “okay fine, it’s better if i just show you.”

you follow his movements inquisitively, his imperceptibly shaky hands as he takes out his phone and opens up a non-descript recording titled track 11

his phone screen illuminates his face in the dimly lit car as he hovers over the audio file. the soft glow casts a warm, intimate ambiance, making you acutely aware of how close you are to him in the confined space. your curiosity and anticipation mount as you wonder what he's about to reveal.

"i've been thinking about this for a while now," he clears his throat, finger lowering to finally click on the file. "and i want to share something with you."

at first, nothing happens. all that comes out of the speakers is static and then some more static. but just as you're about to speak, the car is filled with the opening notes of a song—one that instantly tugs at your memory. It's a tune that you have heard before, at different points in time. it's the song that matty’s hummed to you on days you were ill in bed, a song you heard them play at band practice. it’s a song that george and matty laboured over for days. the one that brought you all closer together.

and now it sounds all put together. the final piece of the puzzle locked in.

matty’s voice is stronger than you’ve ever heard, adam’s guitar and ross’ bass sprinkling magic onto it. and then there are the drums—precise and clear and passionate. just like how george drums his fingers on his lap now, matching the beat of the song.

when the song ends, there's a brief silence in the car. the weight of the notes and the sincerity in his eyes hang in the air, leaving you breathless.

"george," you finally whisper, "that was..."

“we finished it,” he smiles, looking down at his lap. “so we recorded it…”

“it’s…”

there you are once again, at a loss for words. almost certain that there might be actual tears in your eyes.

“that was…”

“shit? derivative? lousy?” he tries to laugh it off, covering up a vulnerable moment with his jokes but you’d be damned if you let that happen.

“perfect.”

the words echoes around the car resoundingly. there’s no challenging your opinion. the song is perfect.

“and you listen to me once and for all george daniel, if you call that song names in front of me one more time, if i hear you call it shit and derivitive and lousy again—”

before you can finish your sentence, george leans forward, crashing his lips onto yours. there’s a crackle of electricity in the air around you, the slowing down of time as if you’re having an out-of-body experience. as if you are a fly on the wall watching two people giving into the magnetic pull between them. but george cups your cheek with his hand and you jolt back into your body.

his lips are cool from the milkshake but the kiss is searing hot, teeth clashing against teeth. your bodies trying to get as close to each other as possible despite the gearstick between your seats. george tugs on your bottom lip, smiling wide as if he can’t help it—grinning ear to ear.

by the time you pull away, you’re both breathing heavily—practically panting. he doesn’t pull back entirely, instead he keeps his eyes closed and his forehead rested against yours. the grin stays on his face. wide and gorgeous and making him look so boyish.

“um,” you start and break off into a quick laugh.

"i've wanted to do that for quite some time now," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

with some hesitation, george lets go of your face, opening his eyes to look at you a second later.

“damn, sweetheart,” he sighs again, chuckling a little. “this is turning out to be a great joyride, huh…”

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @beachesgetpeaches, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy

add yourself to the taglist

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dreamhot · 1 year

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most normal people here are like dnf dating based solely on vibes and then you go into some other rpf fandom and they’re like i track taylor swifts credit card spending here’s why she’s not dating matty healy

LITERALLY i haven't stopped thinking about the larrie who predicted they were gonna announce their relationship based upon coordinates that were ostensibly hidden in tour dates or something

#smile.ask #anon

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thefudge · 8 days

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saw ur tswift x post malone tweets while i agree i got suckered into tswift x matty healy lore bc of the new album and thought they'd be ur kind of crazy? 10 year will they won't they! all those men but that guy was her muse after all these years? some people say they'll go insane over someone but i honestly believe that she did. that's when i thought a thefudge one-shot of them would be so good ((sorry i'm rly just a fan or ur work!!))

see, i get what you're saying here, this whole matty/taylor thing seems primed for RPF, and yes, she did go a little insane for him, the new album is proof, but idk....that man does so little for me. i don't know if i could write him in any sort of believable or compelling fashion. but i do like a challenge so i might try? we'll see where inspo takes me after i finish my dune fics

#replies #rpf #to write #but omg yea the post malone chemistry was such a surprise

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inklore · 1 year

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would you ever write for matty healy

i don’t write rpf lovey, sorry! but i did see this tiktok of him the other day and it had me gripping my chest and sputtering like 😵‍💫😵‍💫

#▸ laur answers

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theirverybest · 1 year

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Can’t sleep… has writing matty Healy rpf gone too far?

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valwentinefics · 1 year

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we need a new sexyman that I can write about. I don’t like stranger things so that Eddie guy is out of the question, I could always do good ol’ Draco but I feel like that’s too oversaturated of a market. Bucky Barnes has been Ol’ reliable for everyone for years but idk he just doesn’t do it for me. Matty Healy is popping on tiktok right now but rpf makes me feel like a creep. I have a grudge against Paul Dano and his fans because he takes up the War and Peace tag when I wanna look at it and discuss the book, and Battinson wasn’t as thirsted for as Dano’s Riddler. It’s just me and Zemo alone on a lifeboat in the middle of this ocean called tumblr.

#lyss rambles

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oh-bonerline · 26 days

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His room smelled stale, unlived in, and it looked exactly how it had when Matty left it. The same clothes piled up on the bed. The same book laid face down on his bedside table. The same overflowing ashtray on the window sill. He’d half expected George to have relished the opportunity to organize and clean everything while he was away. But it looked as though George had simply closed the door and walked away, as if Matty had died and needed to be memorialized. He opened up the window, letting in frigid but fresh air. He pushed the clothes off the bed and onto the floor. He stretched himself out on the bed, lying flat on his back, feeling as if he were in a sort of limbo. The room fit him oddly, like an old suit, somehow both too small and too big. He didn’t feel like himself but he didn’t feel like someone else. He felt like no one.

we'll knock around and see - chapter nine on AO3

#fic #the 1975 rpf #matty healy rpf #ross macdonald rpf #matty and ross #matty and george #matty healy #ross macdonald #the 1975 #we'll knock around and see #big weekend series #i love this chapter but i am nervous about it #also god i hate this header/moodboard but it is what it is

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applesfallingfromblondehair · 5 months

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Happy Robbers kiss anniversary everyone!

Do you want to read about this moment that shifted the earth on its axis? You can find the relevant chapters of my mammoth first work in the 1975 fandom here and here ❤️

#matty and ross #matty healy #ross macdonald #matty healy rpf #ross macdonald rpf #matty x ross #robbers kiss #the luckiest girl in the world #happy anniversary

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allylikethecat · 10 months

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if you’re still doing the kiss prompts, i woild love 9/19 for gatty ♥️

also wanted to say ive read p mi h everything in the gatty tag and think you have probably the most unique writer’s voice ive seen yet your characters feel 100% true ♥️ truly amazing

First, thank you so much for your kind words about my writing! There are so many incredibly talented writers in this fandom and I am so honored to be included in the tag with them! I have a lot of fun writing about the misadventures of Matty and George and I'm so happy that you're enjoying reading about them! (Eventually, one day, I'll update one of my fics on AO3 - for now I've been having too much fun working on these prompts!)

For the kiss prompts - I ended up combining these two, 9. Kiss…in public and 19. Kiss…for luck. I hope that was okay! If not let me know and I'll write you two new ones 😊 Regardless of if you wanted them combined or two separate ones, I hope that you enjoyed this fill!

❤️Ally

9. Kiss…in public & 19. Kiss…for luck

Matty felt like he was going to throw up. The spliff he had smoked, what he hoped was stealthily in the bathroom, standing carefully balanced on the toilet seat to exhale directly into the vent fan, George laughing with his hands on his hips to keep him steady, had done absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. If anything, it had only made him more anxious, made him paranoid that everyone could tell he was stoned. Even after rehearsing all week, after playing these songs for months, after writing them himself, he still couldn’t manage to pronounce “thinking this through” properly, the words slurring together in such a way that it had become a meme on TikTok. He was about to fuck up the words to his own song on live broadcast television and then get ridiculed on the internet for having a speech impediment despite all the years of speech pathology he had attended as a child to lose his lisp.

He knew, rationally, they had been on bigger stages before. He knew rationally, the slur of the line was attributed to his Manchester accent and not his childhood speech impediment. He knew rationally, that even if he didn’t remember it, they had played SNL before. Maybe that’s why he was so nervous, maybe that’s why his stomach was churning ominously, leaving him wondering if he was going to puke or shit himself with nerves, or if he was really lucky, maybe a combination of the two.

He had seen the videos of their SNL performance in 2016, he had seen the articles condemning his “weird” stage presence. He had been high as shit on heroin, drunk as hell on red wine and it was truly a miracle that he had managed the performance at all. He had hazy memories of waking up in the back of the car taking them to the hotel, having fallen asleep with his heavy head on George’s shoulder as soon as they were in the moving vehicle, to hear murmurs of how they probably weren’t ever going to be invited back. The track marks on his arm had itched and shame burned in his chest. At the time, he hadn’t even been sure what they weren’t being invited back to.

But here they were, seven years later, invited back. Their fifth album was doing better than they could have ever hoped, their sold out North American tour had been met with critical acclaim. They were nominated for another Brit award and Jack had even accidentally on purpose let slip that their name was being tossed around as actual Grammy contenders. And they had been invited back. To play SNL, even though seven years ago Matty had blacked out and then apparently thrown up just off to the side of the stage, barely out of view of the audience. It was time for his redemption arc, time for him to show NBC that he was Matty Fucking Healy, and Matty Fucking Healy was no longer a liability.

Even though he kind of felt like a liability, standing with his guitar in the green room, trying to remember why he thought being a rockstar was a good idea to begin with.

The rest of the guys, and their backing band, where sprawled out on the leather couches, fiddling with their instruments, laughing with excitement as Matty paced, strumming a few cords as he did so, trying desperately to calm himself, to remind himself that he was Matty Fucking Healy. Worst case scenario had already happened last time they played SNL, so really he should be relaxed, it could only go up from here. His stomach lurched and he found himself scrambling over to the bar sink in the corner, leaning heavily on the counter, banging his guitar on the cabinet as he moved. He took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. False alarm. He was fine. Everything was fine.

“You guys are up,” said a PA poking his head into the green room, Matty looked up, seeing the look of concern and judgment that PA was giving him. He looked too young to have been around for their first performance on the show, but Matty was willing to bet he had heard about it when it was announced they had been booked. Keep an eye on the little curly one, Matty was sure some senior up stage hand had said. Last time he did heroin in the bathroom then threw up everywhere.

Matty swallowed hard. It was show time. It was just another show he told himself. Just another show. If he was losing it in front of a crowd of 300 he had no idea how he was going to handle Finsbury that summer- they were expecting 50,000. He knew it wasn’t the size of the live audience. It was the live broadcast and what it represented.

“Hey,” George said, catching his arm just as they were about to step onto the stage, and step into the shine of the lights. He could hear Jenna introducing them, though it sounded far away, like his head underwater, which was surreal enough in itself Matty thought hysterically. “Good luck.”

He wrapped one of his large hands around Matty’s lower back, skimming the top curve of his arse. He pressed his mouth to Matty’s, in a chaste kiss that Matty found himself melting into, trying to deepen, chasing George’s lips, even as he pulled back.

“You’re going to be brilliant.”

The crowd started screaming and Matty looked over his shoulder, realizing with detachment that they hadn’t been as hidden, hadn’t been as off to the side as they had thought, the studio audience had a direct view, a front row seat to George kissing him.

His next thought was the Taylor Swift song, has anyone ever kissed you in a crowded room. Followed quickly by this meant that the audience did in fact probably see him throw up last time. A hysterical bubble of laughter pulled itself from his chest and he rested his forehead against George’s chest.

George gave the crowd a sheepish wave before pressing another kiss to the crown of Matty’s head, before stepping back and making his way to his drum kit. Matty spun around and waved at the audience, moving into the spotlight to take his place at center stage, grinning to himself as they played the opening notes of Looking for Somebody (To Love). He already had found somebody to love.

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