graciegoeskrazy

[graciegoeskrazy]

say “i do”

(matty healy x stepdaughter!r)

warnings: mentions of daddy issues, fluff, weddings??, matty being the best dad yeah, request here!

a/n: i’m back! (so she says) wrote this while listening to “margaret” by lana + bleachers and “mine” obviously

It had been a very short two years of planning, and only nine short months before that they had started dating. To say everything was moving fast was an understatement, but time never stopped your mom and Matty from doing what they wanted. If your mom wanted a gorgeous summer wedding in the hills of California in the middle of June, then she was gonna find a way. No hesitation, no second-guessing. That was just who she was—full of fire and forward motion. And Matty matched her in a way no one else ever had. Not by controlling the fire, but by walking straight into it with her, hand-in-hand, like he’d always been there.

And somehow, you were here too. At this moment. On the eve of something huge, something that looked like joy from the outside, But felt like standing at the edge of a cliff and wondering if you'd be asked to jump on the inside.

You knew it was coming. You’d seen the dress fittings and the cake tastings and the invitation mockups spread across the kitchen table. You’d heard the ‘getting ready’ playlist being tested in the living room, w atched your mom’s hands shake the morning she went to pick up her wedding bands, laughed quietly when Matty got flustered about boutonnières and then pretended not to care at all.

You knew the wedding was coming. But nothing prepared you for what it would actually feel like.

Everything fell into place by the time the date neared. The floral arrangements were boxed and labeled, waiting in the event tent for tomorrow’s breeze to lift their scent into the air. The seating charts were perfectly written in looping calligraphy. Even the groomsmen, who you were sure would forget at least something, had every piece of their suits, cufflinks and all, miraculously intact.

And your dress—pale blue, ruffled hem —was hanging in the closet next to your mom’s vintage, white wedding dress. She let you try it on when it was finally shipped to your house, hand pressed and altered. barefoot in her bedroom, laughing nervously with you hands pressed to your chest. When she tried it on you remembered sitting on the floor and thinking how unfair it was that someone could look so happy and so sure all at once.

It all seemed too good. Too seamless. Like it had been made from glass—sparkling, beautiful, and just one wrong breath away from shattering. It all felt like something horrid would happen at any moment and change your life for the worse. Because that’s what always happened. You knew the pattern. The rhythm of disappointment that came right after you let your guard down. When things felt safe, that’s when they broke. That’s when people left. You had your mom. You had your house. You had your family. Had your Dad. Or some version of one.

Even now, just thinking the word made something turn in your stomach. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t gone in that way. But he was gone where it mattered. Left behind in a trail of broken promises, unreturned phone calls, and birthdays skipped without a word. And still, part of you kept a space for him. Still, part of you wondered if this new chapter with Matty meant closing the old one forever.

You had too much happiness, too much light, something always came along to take it. That was the rule. And if tomorrow was supposed to be the happiest day of your mom’s life, then you couldn’t help but brace for impact.

…

Matty recogonised the look on your face, the look of fear - the look of waiting. You swore up and down nearly every single day for the past 2 week that you were fine. When he would confess his worries to George he would tell Matty it was probably wedding jitters or nerves. And he wasn’t far off. Yet, it was something deeper.

The girls and boys were separated the night before - Matty and his friends into one side of the venue and your Mom and her bridesmaids into another. Your Momswore up and down she would go to bed at a reasonable hour and leave the real partying for tomorrow night. Yet when Charli brought out another bottle of wine, she just couldn’t say no.

He did however make sure to put you to bed when you pulled her aside and told her you were heading to sleep.

You noticed a recent message as you were plugging in your phone. From Matty:

Hi angel. You still up?

You let yourself smile just for a moment before clicking on it and typing.

yea. going to bed soon tho.

Three dots appeared then a new message.

No worries just wanted to tell you I love you before tomorrow

You replied.

i love you too

His next messages came in fast.

I love you most

Get some rest

I can’t wait for tomorrow❤️

…

You’re sitting in te second row, next to your grandparents, hands curled in your lap, knees bouncing ever so slightly under your dress. The sunlight filters in through the trees above, catching in your hair, in the folds of your skirt, in the lace of your mother’s veil as she walks slowly down the aisle. Every single person turns to look at her. Every head turns. Every breath is held. And beside you, someone sighs softly at how beautiful she looks.

But your eyes aren’t on her. Not really.

Matty stands at the altar in a black suit, tie slightly crooked—probably from fidgeting with it five seconds before she stepped out. He’s not crying, but his jaw is tight and his eyes are glossy, and it’s the most still you’ve ever seen him. Like if he moves, he might break the spell.

You should be happy. You are happy. At least, you think you are. But there’s this ache somewhere inside your chest that you can’t quite explain. A weight pressing down behind your ribs that only seems to grow heavier with each step your mom takes down the aisle.

You love Matty. He’s been in your life long enough to memorize your favorite cereal, your exact order at the coffee shop, the way you like your TV at the perfect low volume before bed. He learned how to French braid just to help on picture day once. He makes you laugh even when you’re furious. He treats your mom like she’s the sun and the sky and everything in between.

Though sometimes, especially on days like this, the thought of feeling like you don’t belong feels loud. Like a scratch in the record. Like a whisper you can’t shut out.

What if today changes everything? What if now that it’s official—now that they’re husband and wife—he stops trying as hard? What if he forgets how to love you the way he does? What if there isn’t room for you anymore?

You try not to think like that. You really do.

But it’s hard, when everyone keeps talking about them.

The perfect couple. The bride and groom. Mr. and Mrs.

You sit quietly, fingers twisting the hem of your dress as the ceremony unfolds like a slow, dreamy movie. The vows are coming. You know they are. You know your mom will cry. You know Matty will forget part of what he wrote and wing the rest, because that’s who he is—messy and raw and real.

Matty clears his throat. His eyes flicker down to the folded piece of paper in his hands, then back up to your mom. But before he even speaks, his gaze finds you—just for a second. Long enough that you forget to breathe.

He smiles.

And then he begins.

He talks about your mom, of course. About how she saved him in ways no one saw. About how she makes the air lighter just by walking into a room. About how loving her isn’t a choice—it’s just something his whole body does.

But then… he talks about you.

Not as an afterthought. Not as a passing mention.

He says your name. Clearly. Proudly. As if it belongs in this moment as much as hers does.

He says that falling in love with your mom gave him something extraordinary—but becoming your dad, even in the unofficial, clumsy, beautifully chaotic way he did, gave him everything else.

He says he didn’t know how much he needed a daughter until he met you.

You feel it before you realize you’re crying.

Something warm cracks open in your chest, and all at once that heaviness lifts. All those quiet fears, the ones that haunted the corners of your mind for weeks—they’re gone. Just like that. Like they never stood a chance against the weight of his words.

Because you believe him.

And not just because of what he said. But because of how he said it. Because of the way his voice caught on the word daughter. Because of how his hand trembled when he looked at your mom, then steadied when he looked at you. Because of the way the world seemed to pause when he spoke about loving you—not like it was something he had to do, but something he chose. Every day. Every single day.

You don’t remember the rest of the ceremony. It’s a blur of music and laughter and clapping and flowers. But what you do remember is how safe you felt in that moment. How sure. How, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like a side character in someone else’s story. You felt like you belonged.

…

“Psst.”

You turned sharply at the sound, your eyes landing on Matty. He was fresh from the Mother-Son dance, his tie slightly loosened, cheeks a little flushed from smiling. You tilted your head, puzzled.

“C’mere,” he stage-whispered, motioning you over with a quick wave of his hand.

You stepped away from the crowd, slipping your hand into his as he led you through the garden, weaving past tables and lanterns until you reached a quiet corner tucked beneath soft string lights.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he pulled out a chair from an empty table and gestured toward it.

“What do you mean?” he replied, like it was obvious. “Your mum got her dance. Don’t you want yours?”

Then he held out his arms.

The smile broke across your face before you could stop it.

He helped you step onto the chair so you were level with him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders instinctively.

You held onto each other, swaying gently back and forth. The chari beneath you added height but didn’t do much to match up to Matty’s you tucked your head underneath his chin as you both watched your Mom’s dance continue. It was quiet. Special. Something only shared between the two of you even though you were among tons of people.

“Mama looks pretty,” you murmured.

“She does, doesn’t she?” he said, smiling. Then, gently, “She’s not the only gorgeous girl here tonight.”

You looked down for a second, then back up at him.

“Did you mean what you said in the vows?”

Matty didn’t hesitate.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he said, like it was the simplest truth in the world.

When you didn’t answer, just leaned your head against his shoulder and looked out at the dancing crowd, he added more softly, sensing the doubt.

“Y/n…” His tone held a slight warning. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “Just… making sure.”

“Y/n…” He placed a hand under your chin, gently coaxing your face back toward his. “There is no version of my life that doesn’t have you in it,” he said.

Your eyes locked with his—wide, uncertain, and full of something tender and searching. For a moment, he saw the little girl you used to be. The one he hadn’t known then, but wished he had. It hit him in that way only you and your Mom could. That full-body ache of love—tightening and expanding all at once.

“Okay,” you said quietly.

And he knew you believed him.

The music shifted then, swelling in the background as the last notes of your mother’s dance played out. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Laughter echoed through the garden. You both turned to watch, your eyes locked on the bride glowing in white.

You spoke, “I’m happy it was you, Matty.”

He squeezed your hand, voice soft but sure.

“Me too, kid.”

[graciegoeskrazy]

Streets are saying u should write gabrietty wedding

i write and make streets happy

[graciegoeskrazy]

saw thunderbolts/the new avengers again today (amc a list bbyyyy) and i had the thought — mainly because i wanna write the team with teen!reader or teen!barnes!reader or even with kobik (real ones know) — but if r went into the void to find yelena and bob with bucky and the ready of the team, one of those rooms would definitely be bucky leaving for war (💔💔💔) like imagine watching her tiny happy little self pre hydra pre serum pre everything, and watching her dad walk away from her and change their lives forever. like her trying to run to him and screaming and BEGGING him to not leave but like the void catches her and keeps her pinned down like it did yelena and making her watch

oh my fucking cow i need to me medicated

[graciegoeskrazy]

god i need to write

[graciegoeskrazy]

thunderbolts as a concept is hilarious to me lmfao like imagine your DAD is a part of your friend group

[graciegoeskrazy]

HELLOOOO HIIIIII BONJOURRRRR BONSOIIIII GOOOOOD MORNING GUYS. SHE SHOOTS AND SHE MOTHER FUCKING SCORESSSSS!!

someone to take my place

matty healy x daughter!r

summary: relationships are weird!! essentially a chronicle/peek into your feelings about matty and gabi. this was requested on my old account (specifically, the feeling that gabbriette would replace/overshadow y/n) but that has been lost to the tumblr void—please rb this to help the og requester find it ahaha!

disclaimers/warnings: lots of cursing, probably some inaccuracies re timeline oops. matty is kind of a dick in this one but it’s alright. this one’s very introspective and i’m not sure if it’s good or not; i experimented quite a bit w my writing style. dedicated once again 2 @graciegoeskrazy for the encouragement :-)) SORRY IT’S BEEN SO LONG EVERYONE life has been crazy. Hope u enjoyyyy

sure, there were things that annoyed you about every relationship your dad entered. but here there seemed to be a permanence, a weight to it all—it really did seem like it would last forever, unlike previous on-again-off-again sagas. at least you knew that the slurries of Instagram comments from hardcore swifties would die down, or that he and twigs’ (you never called her by her real name, that’s how little you were involved) was mostly an artistic relationship, fostered in the studio but never truly domestic. maybe the exception was gabriella, whose separation really had hurt you. you were so sure she was the one; but then again, you were young and everything felt like it would never change. you couldn’t blame her. matty was a mess, and that was painful enough. your frustration here came from the very real fear that your little family would never be the same, that, however selfish you felt thinking it, you wouldn’t be the only girl in your dad’s life anymore. after all, your insecurities told you, you couldn’t offer much: you weren’t a famous supermodel home chef hybrid, but a dependent teenage girl. if it came down to it, you were a burden: why shouldn’t he just toss you aside to go live a glamorous life in the US without you to drag him down? the problem for you wasn’t necessarily with gabbriette, but the risk she represented.

of course, you would never admit that openly. instead you decided to do what you did best: ignore it and close off, hoping that you’d just scare her away before ever having to confront the issue in earnest. it was with this mindset that you slunk around the house Friday night.

it was mid-evening, and gabbriette had come over and made dinner, some spanish dish that, you had to admit, was beautifully plated and surprisingly delicious. that was at least a positive of their relationship; that you weren’t living off a diet of takeout and grocery store meal kits or, god forbid, having to tolerate matty’s attempts at cooking. you sat across the table from the two of them, sneaking glances at your TikTok notifications under the table.

“y/n,” matty warned, a slight sternness to his voice. “no phones at dinner, please.”

you rolled your eyes, but placed it face down on the table with a slam. “whatever.” you shoved a perfectly-seasoned bite of potato into your mouth. perfect, perfect, perfect. god, you wished she could just fuck something up for once in her life.

“thank you,” your father sighed. he and gabi kept up their conversation, but you laser focused on her every move.

“i thought models didn’t eat,” you said under your breath, but just loud enough that both she and matty heard. unlike your father, though, who kicked you under the table, she wasn’t mad, just matched your sardonic tone.

“guess you heard wrong,” she smirked, and pushed her chair out, standing up and smoothing out her dress. “speaking of which, I’m getting seconds, do you want any, y/n?”

you just shook your head no, then turned to matty. “i’m going to my room,” you simply stated, turning on your heel and speeding down the hall faster than your father could get up to stop you.

“y/n, come back,” he called after you, but you’d already shut the door to your bedroom. “you need to say goodbye to-“

you could hear him apologising to gabi for your behavior, but you didn’t care. you just sank into the beanbag in the corner of the room, content to resume your favorite youtuber’s newest video. but your solitude didn’t last long.

“what the hell is up with you?” matty burst through your doorway, practically hissing.

you glanced up at him, flashing innocent eyes. “what do you mean?” you feigned dumb.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”He leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples. “i mean, Christ, y/n, you act like she’s your evil stepmother or something!”

“oh, so now she’s my stepmum? you’re dense if you think this isn’t just going to end up like all the other girls you fuck!” your voice pierced now. “i’m not playing house with another one of your side pieces.” you stood up, throwing your phone behind you.

“we could be happy, you know, we could have a..a…picket fence and a puppy if you wanted! but you won’t let that happen because you’re so bent on fucking everything up for me for some reason!” matty matched your tone. “i’m marrying her, y/n.”

“woah,” you stepped back. “i see how it is.” you both just stood there, blinking. finally it was you who broke through the silence. “fuck you,” was all you muttered.

“y/n/n—“

“get out.”

“i just mean…i think we should talk about thi-“

you moved closer now, opening the door and pushing him further towards it until he stood just outside. he didn’t resist, just begging defeatedly, voice cracking as he tried to get you to listen. but you wouldn’t. not now, that you felt your worst fears had been vindicated. you shut the door on him, and sank down against it, collapsing onto yourself as tears began to flow.

•

you didn’t remember falling asleep, but the ache in your neck after you awoke exactly where you lay, not even having the energy to walk five meters over to your bed, and the dried tears on your face told you you had. gingerly, you picked yourself up, and headed to the bathroom. when you were done brushing your teeth you made your way, slowly, down the hallway, where, to your surprise, you saw your father’s now-fiancée in the kitchen.

“morning,” she smiled. “or, afternoon.”

you looked at the clock. eleven. thank god it was a Saturday.

“i’m just making lunch. your dad went to the studio. wanna join?”

something within you compelled you to say yes before even really thinking about it, and so you found yourself floating over to join her at the counter.

“i heard what you said, you know. last night,”she said, nonchalantly, as she ground up a handful of pine nuts with the pestle. you hated that, how chill and collected she was about everything—hated that you couldn’t sus her out, employ the same defenses of psychoanalysis and button-pushing you did to keep those before at a safe distance.

you flushed. “sorry.” you turned away, trying to gather something to say. “i don’t hate you, you know.”

“it’s fine if you do,” she smirked.

“no, i don’t,” you sighed. “i just….i can’t keep doing this with him,” you confessed, not making eye contact, instead focusing on a particularly odd-shaped sprig of parsley, twirling the stem between your thumb and middle finger. “i hate feeling like I’m not a part of my own life.” you took a moment to brush your hands onto one of the towels hung over the oven handle. “congratulations, by the way.”

“thanks,” she said, and then turned to you. your eyes met hers as she leaned against the surface. “listen, i know this is all weird. and i’m not trying to intrude or, like, fuck with your life. but i want you to know that i’m here, if you ever want to talk about it.” she rested her head on her elbows. “i know how Ma—how your dad can be sometimes.”

“stupid, rude, insensitive?”

she laughed. “yeah. but i also know how much love he has in his heart. for me, even more so for you. i know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’ll always be his number one.”

“yeah, right.”

“it’s true. watch, he’s gonna come back from that session with about forty new drafts about how much he cares about you.” she poured the pesto from the mortar into a larger bowl. “hey, i know it’s early, but how would you feel about being my maid of honor?”

*

you sat there watching your father get ready, adjust his tie in the mirror for about the fifteenth time, and felt something in your stomach twist. the realization that after today nothing would really ever be the same again—that it’d never just be you two.

he pulled you in, resting his chin atop your head for a second. he took in the scent of your hair, and saueezed a little tighter. “i know it’s hard,” he said. “i’m proud of you.”

it was as if in that moment all of your fears about the moment seemed to fade away. for all you needed his love and attention, he needed you, too. this wouldn’t work without your support, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. it required growth of the both of you, but you’d gotten there. if he was happy, you were happy, and vice versa. you took a deep breath. “i’m proud of you too.”

[graciegoeskrazy]

matty lowkey be giving link lately

[graciegoeskrazy]

sooooooo…. thunderbolts x teen!r orrrrrrr

[graciegoeskrazy]

[graciegoeskrazy]

I don’t know about you guys… but I love to vibe

[graciegoeskrazy]

WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH I AM FULL OF HAPPINESS AND JOY AND MY EYES ARE FULL OF TEARS😭😭😭🥹🥹🥹

could you possibly write a story more in depth on how charli and george met!!

so here’s the thing! in theory yes but alsooooo….I wasn’t there! it feels weird to me to write a real thing that happened without explicitly establishing it in an in-universe context if that makes sense? like i feel odd about half-fictionalizing. but i can definitely maybe sort of compromise and i hope this does! this is more r! focused and about first interactions and impressions of george. much love anon and sorry this is sooo late xx

yuck!

george daniel x (future)stepdaughter!reader

summary: charli is head over heels—you’re not too sure yet.

disclaimers/notes: not many warnings—mention of shitty dad, there’s a bit of a lore dump. r is like 9 or 10 i forget, lowkey not continuous w other fics in this universe but who gaf it’s cute. maybe kinda proud of the writing?? much thx to @graciegoeskrazy for encouragement yayayay love my parents ALSO the title is a reference to the song on crash it’s not just like. random LOL also NOT PROOFREAD

charli had sat you down earlier, explaining that a new "friend" of hers would be coming to visit for dinner. you were used to guests,

your mum loved to throw a house party and you were often allowed to join in, at least until your bedtime. but this wasn't a normal gathering of familiar friends—it was someone important to her, she'd explained, someone who was working on her new album and grown very close with: someone special. reading between the lines; a boyfriend, officially maybe, depending on how this went.

you weren't necessarily a quiet kid, but you did have your shy moments, especially when it came to new people—new, tall, bald, male people who looked at your mom with big heart eyes—and now was one of them. you stayed hidden behind her legs as she stood at the door making small talk with the man in the leather jacket, your emotions oscillating between apprehension and protectiveness. men had come in and out of your lives, but never for the better. they either only cared about your mom for superficial reasons, hoping to promote their own music, to get exposure or a quick shag—they either cast you aside like an unwanted extra, or, in the case of your father, during his rare attempts at parenthood, failed disastrously at building a relationship with you, ending in repeated abandonment. any man that walked through that door was certain to leave the same way eventually, your young logic told you. so for your mum's and your own sake, it was best not to get attached.

"hi," the man spoke. you hesitated before realizing he was actually talking to you, he was looking down at your face and not over your head, and you peeked out as he crouched in front of you, extending a hand to shake. you met his eyes, warily. they seemed kind, soft. a little tired. you looked up at charli for further confirmation—when she nodded, you placed your smaller palm in his. "i'm george," he said, softly.

"i know," you murmured, which caused him to let out a chuckle.

"you're y/n, right?"

another silent nod.

"well, s'great to finally meet you. your mum never stops talkin' about you," he smiled.

it was true. in addition to charli's frequent, lighter musing about your daily antics, george had been made aware on day one that you came first and always would. he knew you were your mother's world—so he anticipated you'd become his, too. he knew to tread carefully; knew what your dad had done (and not done, when it came to caring for you). he knew you were still healing from the last time justin had careened into your life, that night terrors still wracked your little body, that you could sometimes be triggered into a catatonic daze at any moment by the smallest reminder of his likeness. he knew, therefore, that he had to be different. he had to be the exception to all the other men who'd come before him. and he promised himself that he would be. he washed all his clothes thrice to get rid of any lingering cigarette scent, stress-called all the friends with kids he could think of, and, in a moment of particular anxiety, purchased access to an online "step-parent crash course." this meeting was big. George knew very well that absent your approval, the beautiful budding relationship he had been building with Charli could be gone in an instant. As nervous as you were, he was tenfold.

you stood still. then silently retreated to the coffee table, where you'd been building a lego mansion from a set your grandparents had gifted you for your birthday. you had just begun on the roof of its extravagant carriage house when charli came to tell you that the food was ready. you climbed up onto the chair at the head of the kitchen table, pulling a knee up to your chest. your mom sat next to her dinner date, meaning that you faced george head-on at the other end (though you weren't making eye-contact anyhow).

you focused mostly on your plate; charli had made a slightly fancier version of your favourite dish, which you nibbled upon anxiously, sneaking glances towards the scene playing out in front of you. your mum looked absolutely smitten as she sipped from her glass of wine and leaned intently into the conversation.

"y/n, would you mind passing the salt?" george asked softly, extending a tattooed arm. you nodded, handing the shaker over. "thank you, love," he smiled. the term made charli's heart flutter.

you gave a slight smile in return and continued to shovel carrot slices in your mouth. they talked about music, movies, everything as though they shared a brain. but how long could they keep the momentum? you wouldn’t be fooled. smiles faded. everything always ended. even your dad was charming, at first. better not even to get involved, to make yourself a target. let this wave float over you so as not to get caught and drown.

“can i go? i'm done eating," you asked. charli nodded in the affirmative, prompting you to place your plate in the dishwasher and then head back to your spot in the living room.

you continued your careful construction,

pausing when you hit a particularly technical step of the instructions. as you placed the pamphlet aside and began to fidget with a small plastic axle and rod, you barely noticed George take a seat on a floor pillow beside you.

"can I help out with that?" he asked, glancing at the instructions. "m pretty good at building these," he added.

"well, this one's lego friends," you responded, "so it's meant for friends." your tone implied the wariness within you—cold yet wavering, a small guilt seeping through at your own inability to break down your carefully constructed walls.

george nodded, pensively. "i see." he paused, "do you think maybe we could be friends?"

you took a moment to consider, thinking about him. thinking about how kind his eyes were, how he made your mom smile in a way none of the guys before had—how he

seemed to genuinely care about what your answers to his questions, especially this one, would be. you settled on a "maybe," the corner of your lip curling in a way that suggested the possibility of your decision changing to a "yes."

"good. i'd like that."

charli had watched the scene unfold from the kitchen as she put away the final few utensils into the dishwasher. she wanted to go over, coax you into showing your talkative side—but then she also knew that it was a miracle in itself that you hadn't closed off completely. it's just she wanted this to work out. so bad.

•

she tried to be casual about it. “george is coming 'round again, is that alright?" charli bit her lip, eyeing you as you blinked, focus shifting from your math homework. she turned fully now. “you can say no,” she added quickly. “we were just going to work on some songs, but we can go to the studio instead if—“

“no, it’s okay,” you flashed a soft smile.

he arrived 15 minutes later. you knew the relationship had progressed, was getting serious now: you weren’t stupid to know that the two of them hopped off to dinner almost every thursday during your piano lessons, and, in a particularly snoopy moment, you noticed that his contact had been updated to include three hearts in charli’s phone.

so there was no frantic cleaning of house this time, a sign of comfort and security from at least one of you. the same was to be said with george, who now came to the door in sweatpants and mismatched socks in his sneakers.

“i, erm, i brought something. for y/n,” he whispered into her ear as he leaned in for a kiss. charli felt herself melt a little, then gestured towards where you were sitting, at the counter currently sorting out a particularly tough long division problem. she stepped out of the way as to usher him.

“go on then, daniel.”

she had to laugh a bit at the sight, a 6 and a half foot man reduced to anxiety when faced with a nine-year-old girl.

he fiddled in his pockets as you looked up across the island. “hi,” you said, politely if not overly.

“hi,” he responded. “i, um, i know you like these.” he pulled out a small bag from behind his back and slid it across to your side. as you gingerly unfolded the confetti tissue paper, you couldn’t help but smile when you saw it; a set of flower-shaped legos that together formed a colorful bouquet.

suddenly he felt the need to explain. “this one's just regular, coz' i know we aren't friends yet. i'm hoping we can be, but until then, maybe we can build this one together?"

you smiled. “okay.”

•

the two of them were in the home studio for a while that night, with you coming in to have a listen after finally finishing your work sheet. but now it was getting late, and you’d been sent to bed.

charli was about to leave your bedroom, having patted down your covers. then, just as she was about to shut off your lamp, there it was.

"you really like him." you blurted aloud, thoughts escaping the filter you’d been keeping tight about the subject.

slowly, she sunk into the foot of your bed. “yeah, i reaaalllyyy like him," she replied, with the tone of a schoolgirl confessing her playground crush. she turned serious now. “that’s not all that matters though. do you like him?”

"i do, but…” you sat up now, leaning against the headboard, “i like how it is. just us," you said.

"that's not going to change, baby," she paused. "it'll still be us, just...plus one."

hm. the two of you sat in the silence, studying each other’s faces. after a minute of trying to gauge your reaction, charli settled, uncrossing her legs and standing up. she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “it’ll be okay,” she reassured. “promise.”

and as you fell asleep to the soft sounds of laughter drifting from below, you thought that it might not be too bad if this one stuck around.

[graciegoeskrazy]

i’m living for the swifty 75 content it’s healing me… i just think you write matty in such a complex and real way i love it🥹

thank you!!!! stopppp this is so sweet🥹🫂😌

more is def on the way i love writing for them soooo much. i’m so glad im slowly but surely getting back into my writing game like hopefully shes back ugh

i hope you like what’s next twin😗🤠

[graciegoeskrazy]

hii i can’t stop thinking about george with a little girl (like maybe 5-7) who’s half indian and ADORES charli and then a little while into them dating she finds out that charli is also half indian and it’s like a little bonding moment for them. and then just george being a great dad too like ohh my heart💗 i can’t tell if this is or a request or if i just need it out into the world but do with it what you will

july 18th, 2024

anon i’m sorry im a horrible human

anywho here u go

[graciegoeskrazy]

for you are so beautiful

(george daniel x daughter!indian!reader x charli xcx)

warnings: mention (kinda) of absent mother, r is half-indian btw, idrk

a/n: this was requested so long ago it’s actually insane. i’m so sorry anon but i hope u likely and i love u v v much💔🥹🫂 ty @writeslikeabitch for the encouragement as alwayssss. read request here!

Being quiet wasn’t unusual for you. You were a shy kid — able to be yourself in front of those you trusted, but keeping to yourself when things felt too much or when you didn’t feel like those around you could be trusted.

That’s where you were with Charli right now. She wasn’t completely new or scary. You definitely didn’t hate her. It’s just that you didn’t quite know how to navigate things like this.

You were only five, after all. Young enough to feel emotions intensely, but not quite old enough to understand where they came from or how to explain them.

That’s how you felt about Charli.

Your father had sat you down a couple of months ago and told you he had a new friend he wanted you to meet. He’d been different around that time. Happier. Softer. He wasn’t stressing over little things and moved through his days with a kind of lightness you hadn’t seen in a while.

He introduced you to Charli at a house party he and Uncle Matty were hosting. She made sure to come over early so she could meet you before your dad tucked you in for the night. You had hidden behind his legs, your thumb instinctively finding its familiar place in your mouth — a habit that hadn’t quite left you yet. She crouched down gently and offered a small “Hello,” a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m Charli! It’s nice to meet you, Y/n.”

You met her gaze for only a second. George had warned her that you were shy around new people and told her not to take it personally.

“Can you say ‘hi,’ Y/n.?” he asked, gently tapping your shoulder to coax you out from behind him. You stepped out only a little, the soft ruffles on the straps of your nightgown fluttering slightly with the movement.

“Hi,” you finally said, your voice barely audible over the music blasting through the speakers Matty had set up — the noise doing nothing to calm your nerves.

Charli smiled at you. “I like your pajamas. I love purple — it’s my favorite color,” she said, giving you a playful wink.

You looked down at them, brushing your fingers over the little ruffled straps, then back at her. “My daddy got them for me.”

She nodded with a grin. “Well, your daddy’s got great taste, then. Huh?”

You just nodded, eyes falling to the floor again.

“Should we say goodnight to Miss Charli?” George prompted gently.

If there was one thing your father had taught you well, it was your manners.

“Goodnight, Miss Charli,” you said softly.

Her smile warmed. She shared a glance with George — one filled with something sweet and unspoken. “Goodnight, Y/n. It was really nice meeting you.”

George picked you up with practiced ease and told Charli he’d be right back as he passed by her, calling over his shoulder to Matty not to embarrass him or “fuck up anything in the ten minutes he’d be gone.”

You clung to him as he carried you up the stairs, your arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. When he got to your room, you reluctantly let go as he lowered you to the bed.

“Daddy and Uncle Matty are just downstairs. You give us a shout if you need anything, yeah?”

Instead of nodding, you looked at him, frowning a little in thought. “Is Miss Charli your girlfriend?”

George blinked. He nearly choked on his own breath.

He looked between the doorway and your wide, serious eyes. “What makes you say that?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“She smiles at you funny. Like how Uncle Adam and Auntie Carly smile at each other,” you said plainly, your small voice cutting straight through.

A grin twitched at the corner of George’s mouth. “You think she likes me?”

You giggled and nodded. That sound — your laughter — was music to his ears. He’d take a hundred awkward questions if it meant hearing that again.

“How would you feel if she was my girlfriend?”

You paused, your face twitching as your mind tried to work through the question. Your head tilted slightly. “I… I don’t know. I don’t really know what that means.” A flicker of fear started to creep into your eyes, and George’s smile immediately softened.

“Hey… you don’t have to worry about that right now,” he said gently. “You just need to close your pretty little eyes—” he tapped your shoulder with two fingers, nudging you gently backward until you thumped onto the mattress with a small squeal “—and focus on getting some rest, yeah? No thinking about any of that adult stuff right now.”

You smiled up at him, reassured by his calm voice and familiar presence. “Okay, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl.” He pulled the covers up over your tiny frame, tucking them around you the way he always did — snug but gentle. He pressed a kiss to your temple, just like he had every night since the day you were born.

…

A few weeks had passed since then. George and Charli were spending more and more time together, falling harder than either of them expected.

It was tricky when you had a kid — especially one as young as you.

Charli sat next to you on the floor — per your request — coloring in a page from one of your books. A unicorn was happily eating a sandwich under a rainbow. Charli had her legs folded beneath her and her coffee cup beside her, left over from the drink George had made her earlier. She glanced at you, your small frame hunched over the coffee table, tongue poking out in deep concentration.

“I love your picture, Y/n,” she said, sipping her coffee. “Are those flowers?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, not looking up.

“They’re beautiful.”

You reached up to brush the hair from your face and, in doing so, caught sight of Charli’s arm. Your attention lingered there. You stared back and forth between her arm and your own.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “Did I do something?”

“You look like me,” you said quietly.

“What?”

“Your arm. The color.” You held up your arm next to hers, lining them up side by side. “It matches.”

Charli looked down, her breath catching just slightly. “Oh! It kinda does, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, still not quite meeting her eyes.

“That’s cool, huh?” she offered gently.

“Why do they match?” you asked, your fingers still holding onto hers.

Charli took a breath. “Well, we’re both Indian.”

“What’s that mean?” you asked, curiosity blooming behind your eyes.

“It just means that our families are from a certain place — a country called India.”

“Oh.” You looked back down at your arms, pressed side by side. “They match.”

“They do, don’t they?” she said with a smile, something warm growing in her chest.

“I like when I match you,” you said, the words tumbling out without you thinking.

Charli blinked, stunned by the simple sweetness of it. Her heart melted right there on the floor.

“I like when I match you too,” she whispered, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You turned back to your coloring book, your tiny face scrunching in focus again. Charli didn’t pick up her crayon right away. She just stayed by your side, watching you for a while with a full heart and quiet admiration.

Eventually, she stood and wandered back to the kitchen, where George had been watching the whole thing unfold from a distance, wide-eyed and quiet, his arms folded but his expression soft.

She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You have a type, Mr. Daniel?”

George’s mouth twitched. “Oh, piss off,” he muttered, trying to hide the smile that tugged at his lips — but not quite succeeding.

[graciegoeskrazy]

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAY

i love love love how you wrote dad!matty in ‘just lying’, could you write more of him & younger reader? like maybe her misbehaving when they’re on tour cuz she’s homesick? you write their dynamic so sweet and realistic i’d love anything about them

hi yes of course! i hope i did this justice xo

if it’s not with you

matty healy x daughter!reader

summary: see request :-) though I did lowkey misread it a bit but I hope that’s okayyy

warnings/notes: umm not many? kind of not much matty and reader interaction directly but the sentiment is still there and I hope ppl enjoy! oHhh and r is like 9 here. written with moral support during crazy oomfchella with @graciegoeskrazy 😝😝

tour life was always crazy, but it seemed to be getting worse.

the new album had done amazingly, met with frankly unexpected acclaim and internet hype unknown to them. as a result, management had decided to frontload the tour, sandwiching new dates in between legs. unfortunately, the band’s success coincided with your own—you’d been admitted to the pre-professional division at a well-regarded ballet school. but now spring was coming up, and with it, the recital, a culmination of the hard work you’d been putting in all year. and matty had to break the news to you that he might not be there to celebrate with you.

“hey, love, jamie says we’ve gotta add some dates out west. it looks like I’ll be home a bit later than I thought,” matty said. “it’s seattle on the 27th—“ he began.

“but that’s my recital,” you spoke, mid-realization.

“I know, love, but I think it’ll work out. I’ll try to be there, I reallly will….I love you.”

“i love you too.” You pressed a kiss to the speakerphone, Matty doing the same.

•

later, on wednesday, as she was helping you get ready for your ballet class, gabi began to notice a change in your demeanor. first subtly, like how you didn't care what color scrunchie she used to tie off your bun, or excitedly ramble on about a new step you had learned last lesson, then more noticeably, like the way you dragged your feet to the car and sat pouting instead of singing along to your favorite playlist. it was the last rehearsal before your recital that weekend. you should have been buzzing with excitement—but you weren't.

and the way that, in a manner unprecedented, gabi received a call from your studio director a mere thirty minutes into class. she was quick to answer, assuming that it was some freak accident—the idea that a call home could have something to do with a behavioral issue never once crossed her mind. you loved it too much, were dedicated to an extent that impressed gabi: what other nine year old, she often wondered, could spend hours practicing turning drills in the mirror, or had a strict stretching routine every night before bed? naturally, then, the conversation that was to follow came as a shock. 

"hello?" she spoke, pausing the tv. 

"hi, ms bechtel? this is sarah calling from the studio. i apologize for the call, but we weren't able to get in contact with y/n's father," the woman on the other end began to explain. 

"he's out of town, yeah," gabbriette spoke, a distance in her voice. "is everything alright? is y/n okay?" the second part of her reply was more urgent, frantic. 

"oh, everything is fine. we're just not having a good day, and she's been having some trouble in class. she's pretty shaken up, i think it's best if we just call it for the day," sarah explained. "would you be able to come pick her up?"

"yes, of course, i'll be right there." gabi jumped up from her spot on the sofa, wedging the phone in between her neck and shoulder as she went to collect her things. she didn't even bother changing out of her sweat suit before running to the car and hitting the gas. concern never left her mind. she'd definitely be having a conversation with matty about this.

•

gabi swung open the door to the studio, making somewhat rushed small talk with the receptionist before being greeted by the director. "hi, i'm so sorry, i'm here to pick up y/n? what's wrong?"

she smiled, sadly, and began walking towards the locker room, gesturing for your stepmother to follow her. "i'm not really sure, actually. her teacher told me she was refusing to participate in class...it wasn't even just general misbehavior, she just kind of closed off," sarah spoke, turning back. "they're cleaning the dance for spring recital, but y/n refused to run the dance. then she just ran off. we're both worried, it's very unlike her." 

gabi nodded. "i am too." she noticed that sarah had stopped in front of the door, hesitation in her face. "is she in there?" 

"yes, but she's really shaken up. hopefully you can get through to her." she smiled, then turned around.

cautiously, gabi pulled the door open. her face fell when she saw you there, curled up atop your dance bag, crying and wailing face down into its fabric. you'd undone her carefully braided ballet bun, your hair now tangled in your face. 

she knelt down, beginning to pick up the clothes you'd strewn across the floor. she said nothing at first, just sat gently running a hand through your hair while folding the skirt you'd picked out that morning and apparently thrown off in your frustration. she helped you up. "c'mon, let's go home." you allowed her to lift you up—despite her small stature, she was actually quite strong (and it didn't hurt that you, much like your father, were shorter than average)—continuing to sniffle into her shoulder. 

the ride home was silent. gabi just assumed you had tired yourself out and, after a slight last hurrah of an outburst in which you kicked your shoes off, and let them ricochet off the baseboard with a resounding thud. let you crash nap on the sofa while she cooked. she dished you up some of the lemon pasta she’d prepared, one of your favorites, and brought the plate over to where you lay. she set it on the coffee table, the ceramic meeting glass with a clink. “can we talk about today?”

“no.” your eyes barely moved to meet hers before you buried your head back in the cushion.

“c’mon, i think we should.” her voice was sterner now. “why did you run out of class today?”

"because it sucks and I don't wanna do it anymore," you whined. 

"but why? you love dancing—"

"i just don't wanna, okay?" you interrupted, voice echoing through the empty house.

gabi watched in shock as you bolted up the stairs and slammed your bedroom door so hard the wall shook. she had no idea what had suddenly gotten into you, but it worried her. so, she decided to call in the big guns; she grabbed her phone off the counter and called matty.

he picked up nearly immediately. A rustle in the background, and then: “gabi? hi baby, what is it?”

“it’s y/n. she had a meltdown at dance but she doesn’t want to talk about it. she’s shut herself in her room,” gabbriette spoke. “i just…I think she needs you, matty.”

she could almost envision him, halfway across the country, hand to his forehead. “fuck,” he exhaled. “i know it’s been hard, i’m so sorry, love.”

“it’s not your fault—“

“no, but…okay. Can I just talk to her? I wanna see her.” matty began to protest. Gabi nodded, switching to FaceTime. she traced your previous path up to your bedroom, slowly pressing the door ajar. there you were on the floor, staring out the window at the trees below.

“daddy’s on the phone, he wants to talk to you,” gabi said, taking a seat next to you at the window, turning the phone sideways so that you both were in frame.

“hi, darling, how are you?” matty smiled, waving into the camera. “i miss you out here. no fun with these guys,” he joked, gesturing to blurry shadows of adam and ross messing about behind him in the green room.

“miss you too,” your voice cracked. you tried to hide a tear that escaped, pressing your sweater sleeve to your eyes.

“i know, baby. I’ll see you soon, i promise.” matty tried to shift gears to the topic at hand, sensitive he knew. “are you excited for your recital?”

"i'm not going." you stared at him head on.

"but you've been working so hard, all your teachers are so proud of you," gabi interjected, trying to reason. "we're proud of you," she added on. 

"it doesn't matter," you said, looking down.

"why not?"

you bit your lip, trying to suppress big waves of emotion. “y-you won’t be there,” you murmured.

oh. matty felt a hole rip open his chest. this was the downside of the success, the tours, the fans, the music, that he’d always be leaving someone disappointed. he hated when it was you. half-heartedly, he tried to reassure. “baby, i will, i promise you i’ll make it work,” he said. but he knew he couldn’t promise for certain, and it wrecked him.

“but it won’t, right.”

matty tried, best as he could through gabi’s iPhone camera, to look you straight in the eye when he said this. “i’ll pinky promise you, okay? so you have to do the show, because i’m not coming all the way back to LA for nothing,” he laughed.

reluctantly, you mirrored his pinky gesture in the frame. “promise?”

“promise.”

•

the day of the show had come. your body held heaps of nervous energy as you sat in the dressing room of the local performing arts center getting ready.

“he’s gonna be here, right?” you asked, as gabi swiped a layer of eyeshadow onto your lids.

“he’ll come, baby.” she smiled. but gabi knew it was 50/50. with the altered dates, his overnight flight would be getting in from seattle a mere hour-and-a-half before the show began. that combined with city traffic, it would be a miracle if he made it before intermission. still, she wanted to keep your mind at ease.

meanwhile, as your teacher gathered you and the rest of your classmates to line up backstage, matty was racing to meet you. he apologized to passersby as he raced through the arrivals terminal, frantically flagging his driver down and, as politely as possible, telling them to slam on the gas. it was but twenty minutes later that they pulled into the parking lot, and he promptly burst through the doors, suitcases still in tow.

out of breath, he asked an attendant directions to the theatre you were performing in and pulled up the ticket in his apple wallet to show. the usher directed him to his seat—front row, next to gabi—and he collapsed in it.

“did i miss her? please say i didn’t, oh god, i pinky swore, shi—“ he whispered frantically in gabi’s ear, practically hissing.

“relax,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek, just as the lights began to dim again, and the first note of your music played, “you’re right on time.”

[graciegoeskrazy]

WAYAMENT ok….Like lowkey u mightve done smth like this already but how about…ok so this is like relatively early in their relationship (not super early just before they get married in universe and everything) so reader still maybe not besties with george/super close and obv she’s been burned before but GODH wouldn’t it be cute if r had a father daughter dance coming up @ school and was stressing over who to take but geoerge Steps It The Fuck Up and does a cutie little promposal esque moment

Wait this could also be super cute with Gabi and matty Hold on…

I know where u live 😐

[graciegoeskrazy]

for every happy ross tiktok there are ten annoyed george tiktoks