(george x xcx!r)

warnings: no angst (who is she), r has crush on a boy, short, no mdashes because i keep getting flagged for ai in all my school work so now its just habbit to not use them anymore but i miss them, anyways

a/n: just a (very very) short lil sum to tide u over for now

It was during your daily debrief to your mom that you decided to tell her the very exciting and unexpected details of your day.

“So I was thinking, ‘Oh, he’s just not into me.’ But Clara was all like, ‘No! He’s looking at you funny!’ So I-”

“He was ‘looking at you funny’?” She asked, almost grimacing.

“Muuuuuuuum…” You rolled your eyes, still smiling.

“What? I’m just clarifying.”

“My point is… I thought he wasn’t into me, but then he chose to sit right next to me in third period! And now we’re partners for the big ecosystem project!”

She smiled back at you. “Well, good for you, baby.” She said sincerely.

You were never one to talk much about boys. Anytime someone ever teased you about crushes or first loves, you quickly responded with an eye roll or exaggerated gag. Most of the time it feels like more than half the girls in your entire grade can only talk about how cute the some 5 boys are - daydreaming about potential dates or non-existent futures with dramatic proposals and picket fences. You were never one to take part. That is until now.

Your mom told you how she was the same for most of her childhood. Never batting an eye for anyone. Letting talks of boys or eventful nights drift in one ear and out the other. And on the few occasions she did try to partake in relationships, they never went past a few dates (enter your sperm donor of a father.) Her serious ones that you can remember just sort of found her. Including George.

Speaking of, “Don’t tell George though; he’s just going to freak out and act crazy. Become all protective and shit.”

She ran a hand through her hair, glancing at the door to the music room he was currently working in. “Yeah, that’s for the best. Might send him into cardiac arrest."

You both giggled, a sign to most others that the two of you were up to no good. You told her more details about Andrew. Where he was from, his family. Trying hard to leave out the detail of his smile when he laughs that you couldn’t seem to get out of your head.

The noise subsided when familiar heavy footsteps grew louder and came into the living room. George pretended to be busy on his phone when he entered the kitchen. The both of you give each other a look before quietly hiding your laughs and getting off the couch and joining him.

You grab your backpack off the high kitchen chair and head upstairs to do homework, like normal.

 “Hi, Georgie.” You say, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek and running past him.

Charli starts to make a drink for the both of them. He leans on the counter, gazing off into the staircase you just disappeared from. The house is quiet as he chooses his next words.

“So she’s in love now?”

Charli rolled her eyes and mindlessly slammed the glass down on the counter. “George!”

He isn’t fazed; he just gets straight to business. “Did she say anything else about this kid? How old is he? Where he lives?”

Charli laughed to herself as she continued her task. “It’s been less than 2 minutes, and you’re already being stupid protective?”

“Not protective. Just…cautious.”

“Mhm,” she says. "His name is Andrew, and he's a new student who just transferred from Bristol."

"Andrew from Bristol..."

"George..." she said in a warning.

They hear a giggle and distant words coming from your room upstairs, and George’s face turns red.

“Is she on the phone with him right now?” His tone turns stern-like.

“George, calm down. It’s probably just Clara. You know they can’t spend more than 30 minutes without talking to each other again.”

George puts his drink down and moves next to your mum. “And why did Clara say he was looking at her funny?”

“Oh my god, she was right for not wanting me to tell you.”

"Tell who what?" You innocently asked as you turned the corner.

Your mom's eyes went slightly wide. "Nothing!"

"Were you talking to this 'Andrew from Bristol' or Clara?"

"Mum!" You screamed, voice cracking from laughter.

"He was eavesdropping on us! I didn't tell him, I swear."

You groaned and flopped on the couch in the living room.

George walked over, drink in hand.

"So," you hid your face in the pillow as you saw him sit right next to where your legs were hanging off of the couch. "Andrew from Bristol or Clara...?"

You rolled your eyes. Not that he could see with your face smushed against the pillow.

"Just Clara..."

text imagines

• Matty,Gabi,George and Charli in Sicily

matty healy + teen!daughter!reader

summary: life on tour with your dad’s band isn’t what you imagined it would be like, and you can’t hide it from Matty for long

notes: hey hey hey, I hope you enjoy & pls submit requests if you have any, id love to write your ideas <3

(warnings: mental health issues & depression)

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It was school break and you were touring America with your dad's band. It was the first time since primary school that you were fully traveling with him. It was supposed to be the best summer of your life. Only everything just felt different.

All you could focus on was the noise: the pitchy screams, the cramped buses, the inconsistencies, the quick pace of it all. What used to feel free and exciting, now left you grasping for something to hold onto.

"Hi darling." Matty smiled at you as you came into the band's dressing room backstage.

The show started in an hour. Two people hovered around Matty, handing him his ironed button-up and checking his earpiece.

“Hi.” You mumbled, pushing past and collapsing onto the couch in the corner, arms crossed as you sank into the cushions.

Ross was in the armchair beside you, standing to finish getting ready. You glanced up when he held an open pack of sour candy toward you.

"I left you the blue ones." He said and put his hand on the top of your head to gently brush down your hair before walking off.

"Thanks." You looked down at the candy, all your favorite flavor, but the smell was only making you queasy. You put them to the side with a frown.

You looked down at your phone, scrolling through your feed, seeing all your friends from home post. You rolled your eyes at the pictures of all of them hanging out again while you were gone. You looked through each of their instagrams with a frustrated sigh.

"You eat anything real from the catering or just those gummies?" Matty came over to stand over you while he finished tying his tie.

You glanced up at him for half a second with an annoyed squint before looking back to your phone.

"Hello?" He tilted his head. "I know I'm not as interesting as block blast, but you could at least answer–"

"I already ate when you were busy."

"A proper meal?"

"Yes. Can you leave me alone? You're not being funny."

He let out a disbelieving scoff. You weren't usually so overtly rude, even with how withdrawn you've been recently. You felt his eyes on you and knew he was trying to figure out what was going on.

"Are you alright?" He dropped his teasing attitude. You felt him sit down on the couch.

"Just go finish getting ready." You spoke curtly, still not looking up from your phone.

"I'm done getting ready." He paused, just staring at you. "Can you put down the phone for two seconds?"

You groaned and took your time doing nothing in particular before dropping it into your lap dramatically. 

"Hi." His eyebrows were raised and pulled together.

"What?" You scrunched your face up in annoyance.

"I'm just trying to talk to you. Did something happen?" He seemed hesitant.

"No, nothing—don't you have to go?"

"I have time, what's up?"

"I'm... Nothing. Really." You shrugged, closing in on yourself as your pitch raised defensively. You knew he didn't really have time for this.

"C'mon, something's bothering you."

"How would you even know? I haven't seen you all day." You mumbled while fidgeting with the arm of the couch.

"I think you're making it pretty obvious now with this attitude." He raised his brows at you, unimpressed.

You glared up at him through your lashes and watched him lean forward and sigh.

"I'm sorry I was so busy today." He tried.

"You're busy everyday." It came out more bitter than you meant it.

"Darling, I... I know it's hard." He frowned. "But after this week it's going to calm down, and I'm not doing press so I'm going to have more time to hangout."

He looked sincere, guilty even. You knew he had a million things to handle before stepping on stage in front of thousands. He didn’t need more issues, so you let him believe that was your only worry.

"Yeah, it's fine. I get it." You shook your head dismissively, pursing your lips.

"You sure?" He was still frowning.

You forced a nod.

It was too much to tell him about the sinking feeling in your chest, the numbness that followed you around with occasional bursts of anger.

He moved to put an arm around your shoulder and pull you in. You waited for the usual warmth of your dad’s embrace to wash over you, only it never came.

You had to pull away and stand. His hug forced you to face how little you were actually feeling; it was all too painful.

He watched you with a poorly concealed concerned frown.

You wanted to be close again. To be able to just tell him everything. But the words got caught in your throat each time. As the confusing feelings built up, it began to be more and more of a daunting task to try and explain what was happening.

There wasn't enough time. Not enough time in a day, and especially not with the fifteen minutes before his show.

Your head was crowded with conflicting emotions. You didn’t want to be alone; you didn’t want him to go on stage. But you didn’t know why anyone would want to be around you, given how rude and moody you’d been.

"Dad?" You got his attention softly.

"Yeah?"

"Can I watch from side stage tonight?" You asked. You tried to keep your voice monotone and looked down at your sneakers.

You both knew what that meant and you couldn't possibly maintain your stoicism if you watched his reaction.

"Side stage?" His volume lowered and you could hear the smile on his face.

You used to watch from the side all the time when you were little. You insisted on being in the pre-show huddle. You always made the guys put their hands in a pile and they'd all take turns saying something ridiculous on the count of three to make you laugh.

Matty would look over a million times during the performance to see you jumping around with whoever was watching you in your huge protective headphones.

He'd wave to you and you'd act like it was the most exciting thing each time you caught his attention.

As you grew up, you came to shows less frequently, and you'd choose to watch from one of the private sections with any other guests or family around. There were a few times you'd just stay in your dad's dressing room.

"Yeah, I dunno... just don't feel like being in the crowd." You tried to downplay it as your face heated up at your childlike request.

"Yeah, of course, love. I'll let Mark know." Matty nodded. He seemed to know what you were doing with your excuse but didn't call you out on it.

You trailed a few steps behind Matty as he walked toward the side stage to meet up with the rest of the band.

You watched them huddle up and stepped further back. When you were a kid you'd jump right in the middle, fitting perfectly and demand attention. But now it looked cramped and you didn't think there was a spot for you.

"Where're you goin, kid? Get in here." George didn't allow it. He grabbed your shoulder and stepped back so you could squeeze into the huddle.

You knew it was nice of him, but all you wanted was to run away and exclude yourself. Each kind act was another reminder that something was wrong with you. You weren't that happy little kid anymore. Everything was different, you didn't quite fit anymore.

You sat on a crate not being used and out of the way of the crew as the band paced around and made last minute adjustments until they got their que to go on.

Matty came back with protective ear plugs for you.

"Really?" You haven't worn ear plugs since you were younger.

"Yes, really, you'll go deaf over here." He gestured to all the speakers near by.

"Fine." You held your hand out for them but he shook his head.

"Uh uh, absolutely not." He pulled a face like he couldn't believe you tried to put the ear plugs in by yourself.

You rolled your eyes but felt a smile tug at your lips as you tucked your hair behind your ears for him to have access.

"Much better. Tryin' to steal my job." He murmured as he fit them into your ears gently.

He smiled at you when he was done, holding your shoulders and kissing the top of your head as he did each time.

The noise quieted. It almost felt the same staring back up at him. Simpler, like all the real world problems washed away and for a second it was just you and him.

"That's you, Matty." A crew member signaled.

And as quickly as the comfort came, it left.

You watched him come to life on stage. It was natural for him. You could see the crowd so clearly from this view. Peoples faces lit up; he had them perfectly entertained under his control. They jumped when he told them to, cheered loudly, and laughed at his jokes.

Your eyes were stinging and your throat felt tight.

His life just made more sense without you. It would be so simple. He could be the cliche rockstar on and off stage and not have to worry about your issues bringing him down.

You felt an unpleasant building of pressure in your head as your cheeks flushed and you struggled to take in a deep breath. You felt a few tears start to fall as you stubbornly tried to hold it all in.

It all hit you during their last song as the instrumental played and they bowed. Matty was laughing at something, leaning into Adam's shoulder as they waved to the crowd. He looked so happy, the way he always did after a show.

He approached you, still distracted, "Hey, did ya see earlier when—"

His face fell when he got close enough and noticed your tears. He rushed to crouch down in front of where you were sitting and cradle your face in his hands.

"Hey, hey. What happened, baby?" He quickly pulled out his ear piece to hear you better and furrowed his eyebrows. His chest was still rising and falling quickly from his performance. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head, trying your best to stop your tears.

You couldn't remember the last time you cried in front of anyone and now you were breaking down with everyone around.

"What is it, darling?" He looked distraught, scanning you up and down.

The question only made you cry harder because all you could manage to articulate was: "I don't know."

"You don't know?" He tilted his head.

Matty got up to sit next to you and you threw yourself into his arms. You hid your face in his shoulder, facing the wall and away from anyone who might pass by.

"I'm sorry, I don't... know why—" You croaked out incomplete sentences.

"Shhh, just focus on breathing, yeah?" He rubbed your back in slow circles and kept his cheek to the side of your head, whispering soothing words as you tried to calm down.

You heard him calling for one of the guys and mumbling some requests but you couldn't listen long enough to follow.

"Is she okay?" You were pretty sure it was George's hesitant whisper.

You felt in a daze, like you weren't fully there. Their voices sounded distant.

You didn't know how long you'd been crying before was Matty draping a huge hoodie from the merch stand over your head, pulling up the hood, and putting his arm around your shoulders to guide you into a car and back to the hotel.

He got in the backseat with you as you slotted back into his side.

"There you go." He rubbed your back when you let out a deep shaky breath at being away from all the people. "You doin okay? We're almost back."

You leaned into him more to hide your face. You didn't think you could talk yet.

"Okay, okay." He let out a soft chuckle and squeezed you closer.

You kept your face hidden the whole walk up to the hotel room and Matty didn't object as he held you against his chest.

He didn't even mention you going into your own bed in the adjoining room he got you. He helped you climb into his bed and you immediately reached your hands out for him.

His bottom lip jutted out at you and he sat next to you as you cuddled into his side again.

"There we go.” He sighed. He seemed to sense your relief at finally being alone and in private. “Can you talk to me? Try to tell me what got you so upset?" He tried again.

"I can't—it won't even make sense."

"It doesn't have to make sense. Can you just try for me?"

"It's all too much." You shook your head.

"What's too much, baby?" He rubbed your arm.

You felt more tears rush to your already sore eyes and you let out a frustrated, pathetic laugh.

"Everything." You choked out.

Matty looked at you silently, his frown seemed to be permanent as his eyes darted around your face, like he thought he could find the answer to all your worries if he looked hard enough.

"Is the tour too much?" He guessed quietly. “I know how it can be, if you’re homesick.”

"I don't... maybe but it's not just that it's... I'm so tired all the time. And I don't feel fully here, or fully at home. Like I don't belong either place. My friends are happier with me gone and you'd be happier with me gone too."

"Woah, woah, happier with you gone?" He pulled a sour face. "That's the furthest from the truth. I love that you're here with me."

"I just don't fit anymore. Anywhere." You sniffled.

"That's entirely not true, darling." He shook his head. "When you're not around... I can't even explain it. It's just so much worse. You'll always, always fit with me." He kissed the top of your head. “And I’m sure your friends are feeling the same way with you gone.”

You didn’t look so convinced and he sighed.

“We’re going home in a couple weeks, but we can make a trip sooner if you want to see them? Maybe that could help?”

"I tried to… Nothing really helps. Like tonight I thought I might feel better if I watched from the side like I used to, but it didn't work."

You watched his face fall as a solemn understanding washed over him.

"Oh, sweet girl, come here." He pulled you back against his chest. “Have you been feeling this way for a while?”

“I dunno what’s wrong with me. It just feels like everything is wrong.” You admitted. The frown on his face made your eyes sting again and you had to look away.

“Nothing is wrong with you. It’s not your fault, darling.” He assured quickly. “I know you’ve been trying so hard to feel better, but sometimes it’s really out of our control. Just like how people get sick.” He explained softly.

“I don’t think it’s gonna go away.” You spoke shamefully. Matty made a small pained sound, like your words were physically hurting him.

“I know… I know it feels like that, but I promise it will.” He had enough conviction in his voice that the idea didn’t sound as crazy as it did just seconds earlier.

He played with your hair for a while, patiently nodding along to your half finished thoughts as you tried your best to articulate the complex feelings you'd been having.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner that you were dealing with all this." He whispered.

He made a very convincing argument for you to try to talk to a therapist, which you reluctantly agreed to. You didn't have much of a convincing rebuttal after your breakdown.

You felt a bit lighter after talking it all through. Your thoughts felt a tiny bit less scary when you heard them out loud and repeated back to you.

“Can you sing my song?” You asked, your voice small.

You felt like there were no more secrets; everything felt a little easier, a little more open. Your walls came down, and it wasn’t the end of the world like you’d imagined after all those weeks you’d spent hiding your feelings.

Matty’s arms tightened around you as if to keep the pieces from scattering again. His voice was quiet when he answered.

“Of course. Always.”

matty healy x 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

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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.

this is how it starts

a/n: Soooo... I maybe havent posted in over three months, my b. Had some shit i had to deal with but its chill now...... anyways! requests are open so pls pls pls (i promise i wont leave them to sit forever....again).

matty healy x teen!sister!reader

summary: matty gets a call from his 16 year old sister late at night needing to be picked up from a night club… he has a lot of questions

notes: hello 1975ers this is my first matty fic & I’m very inspired by @graciegoeskrazy and @writeslikeabitch!! I hope everyone enjoys & please be nice to me or I’ll cry xoxo

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It was another late night in the studio for Matty, going as it always did. He would bounce around and articulate ten half-ideas while George grounded them and tried to get him to choose one.

Matty was never good at the grounding part, unless it came to you, his baby sister. George would tease him about the switch in his brain that would activate whenever you were involved.

He smiled when his phone began to buzz with your name and the stupid contact photo you programmed into his phone popped up.

The photo was from when you were younger, when you came to him with all your problems. Ever since you started this year of high school he felt you start to slip away. A rational part of him knew he couldn't blame you, he did the same thing when he was your age. But it didn't make it hurt any less.

Now when you called, it was usually for something a little less vulnerable, a song recommendation or to slyly ask him to buy you something your mum didn't agree to.

"It's my sister." He told George.

George paused what he was doing on the computer. "Tell her to send me her Wordle score, she didn't today."

Matty rolled his eyes as he answered.

"What do you want?" He put on the voice he'd perfected, the mix of annoyance and fond exasperation. It always made you feel like you were getting away with something Matty already planned to give you.

Immediately he knew this call was not going to follow your normal script.

"Matty!" You cheered, your voice drowned out by loud music. "Hi!" You added.

Matty sat up straighter and ran a hand through his hair, "Why are you... it's so late... where are you?"

"I'm at a party—I miss you!" You giggled.

"What? Are you really?" Matty let out a surprised laugh which got George's attention too. "She's at a party." He watched George's face contort into confused amusement the information.

He was always encouraging you to have more fun and to be a teenager. You were so different than he was at your age, you were responsible and got good grades.

"Uh huh." You confirm obliviously.

"Well, go on, don't be a loser on your phone, you’ve got a legacy to uphold. George can attest to that." He teased, watching George laugh.

"Wait! Don't hang up." You pleaded.

"I'm not gonna hang up on you." He laughed. "I just can't believe this... after all the times you said parties we’re stupid?" He quoted you.

"Um, I don't know! It's okay... I miss you! It's my first one so I don't know. It was more fun earlier—They played one of your songs! Only like part of it but still!"

Matty let out another disbelieving huff of laughter at your rambles, "Have you been drinking?"

He could hardly believe he was even asking you that, you'd always been so against the idea. You often made fun of how irresponsible Matty was when he was your age.

"Umm—" Your slurred voice made the answer very clear to him.

"How much have you drank?"

"Um... I don't know— someone else was getting them."

Matty groans with a shake of his head. "That's like house party 101, watch your drink."

"I'm not at a house party." Your voice was a bit wobbly.

"What? Where are you?" Matty's playful demeanor switched off and you sensed it immediately.

"Don't be mad!" Your laugh sounded forced and nervous.

"I won't be mad, you're just scaring me."

"I'm at Marlas–"

"What? Like the club? In London?" His blood pressure was skyrocketing imagining you at that sleezy place. He knew exactly where it was; it wasn’t far from the studio. "How'd you even get in there?"

"I came here with girls from school and then they knew someone to get us in the club and then—and then I don't know—" You were stumbling over your words as if they couldn't come out fast enough.

"Woah, hey... darling, slow down."

"I just don't know where they went and it's not fun and I don't want to be here and—" You stopped to take in a sharp breath.

Matty frowned.

"Can you come pick me up?"

Your meek voice transported Matty back to when you used to pad across the hall to his room in the middle of the night with some excuse about monsters or a scary noise. Matty would lift up the blanket, wrap you up, and entertain your stories patiently, dreading the day your problems would be real and not so easy to fix.

"Please?" Your vulnerable voice brought him back into action.

"Of course... of course I'm coming to get you, darling, are you crazy? I'm already leaving." He was grabbing his keys and half listening to George saying he'd pack up the rest of Matty's stuff.

***

You were sitting on the curb, your arms wrapped around your torso in a lame attempt to warm you up in your short skirt and tank top. Your face was flushed and you kept your head down, not wanting to draw any attention.

You wiped at your eyes, not mindful that it was smudging your mascara.

Matty approached you quickly, crouching down to his heels and cupping your cheek, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he scanned over you protectively, checking for any signs you were hurt.

You jumped at the presence of someone in front of you before your shoulders fell in relief.

"Matty—" Your bottom lip wobbled. The resolve you were barely holding onto began to crumble at the sight of your big brother.

"Hi darling." Matty's voice was just above a whisper. He smiled sadly at the way you crashed into his arms, burying your face in his shoulder. "You're okay, I’m with you now. C'mon, let's get you out of here."

"Oh, okay." You mumbled as he pulled you up onto wobbly legs and draped his heavy jacket over your shoulders. "That's warm, thanks. Should I say bye to the guard?"

"Huh? The bouncer? No, sweetheart, he's busy." Matty held back a laugh and patiently answered your babbling. He grabbed your purse you left laying the curb.

"They played your song."

"Oh yeah?" He humored you as you told him again, as he guided you through the crowd of drunk people.

"Yeah! And-and-" You slowed down to try and think better.

"Shh, love, just focus on walking, you're like a baby deer." He shook his head as he lead you to his car and helped you buckle.

He got back in the car and sighed a breath of relief that you were with him and safe.

"How are you feeling?" He tilted his head as he put in the directions to get home and sent a quick update that you were okay to a slightly frantic George.

"Not good." You pouted pathetically.

"Not good?" He jutted out his bottom lip back at you, obviously finding your drunken emotions just a little amusing now that he knew you weren’t in danger. "You feel sick?"

"A little. Feel bad." You spoke quietly.

“God, kid, youve really mastered the whole puppy dog thing. You’re breaking my heart.” He cooed at you as he started driving.

“You’re not gonna yell at me?” You expected a lecture or at least a lot less sympathy than he was showing.

He let out a breathy incredulous laugh, “You’re in no state for that, darling. Plus I think having to spend a night at Marlas is punishment enough. That club is shit."

"It wasn't my idea."

"Yeah, I'd hope not.” He shook his head, then his voice dropped to a softer version he reserved for you, “What happened tonight, love? You gave me a proper scare." He glanced over with a raise of his eyebrows.

"It's stupid."

"I think we're past the part where you try not to embarrass yourself."

"You're so mean." You whine while he smiled at you.

"Yeah, you should've called someone else to pick you up." He teased.

You knew it was a joke. That he didn't mean anything by it. But it struck a nerve in your already too sensitive state.

You felt your eyes start to sting and didn’t have the control to hold it back. Your shoulders heaved forward as you let out a quiet sob into your hands.

“Woah, woah, hey, what wrong?” Matty’s head shot over to you and his hand reached out to hold your shoulder while he drove.

"I can't call anyone else. No one else cares." You sniffled.

"Hey, that's not true."

"The girls I came with don't.. they didn't even care that I said I was leaving—I thought if I came tonight they’d just like me… and Sophie's moved schools and Mums been working so much—" You felt hot tears run down your cheeks as you wiped your face clumsily.

The worries that have been weighing on you for weeks all came spilling out as Matty held onto your shoulder.

"What? When did Sophie move schools?" He could hardly believe this was the first he was hearing of your best friend not being at your school.

"The beginning of the year."

"Darling, that’s weeks ago. Why didn't you tell me any of this?" He brushed another price of hair behind your ear. "Hm?" He prompted.

"You were away." You shrugged.

"You ever heard of these things called phones?" He wasn’t having that excuse.

"You were busy."

"Busy with absolute nonsense. I sing songs… it’s not anything crazy. You know that I'll always make time for you."

"I just don’t wanna spend the time I have with you being all depressing. And it’s just embarrassing stupid stuff.” You said with a shaky voice.

He got quiet for a moment, his frown matching yours.

“Where are you going?” You asked when he stopped following the directions.

“I’m getting you chicken nuggets or chips or something.” He mumbled.

“What?” You saw him approaching a fast food restaurant and couldn’t help but laugh weakly as you wiped your eyes with the sleeve of Matty’s borrowed jacket.

“You’re crying and it’s your first time drunk so you need it. Just trust me on this one.”

That’s how you ended up sitting in the car park of McDonald’s at 2am, sharing a 30 piece chicken nugget with your big brother while he listened to your drunken ramblings.

“These are really good.” You sniffled and talked with your mouth full.

“Yeah?” Matty held back a smile, completely endeared, but trying to take you seriously since you were so upset. “What did I tell ya? This is proof alone you gotta trust me more.”

You looked over at him hesitantly and he sighed.

“But seriously. You know you can tell me anything. I don’t care if you think it’s depressing. If you’re dealing with it, I want to know about it.” He raised his eyebrows.

You nodded as you felt your eyes start to sting again.

He looked like he was expecting it and leaned over the console to give you a tight hug.

“I’ve just been so lonely at school. And mum got her new work hours, which I’m like happy about, but nobody’s home. And I made new friends but they’re not like Sophie.”

“Love, you know those girls aren’t your friends.”

“I know.” You shook your head. “I think I just forced it cause I was tired of eating lunch alone.”

Matty’s face contorted into a pained grimace, like your words were killing him, and he reached out to hug you again.

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry I didn’t know.” He whispered. “I’m gonna talk to Mum. I’ll convince her to let you stay at my flat for a few days and we’ll figure this all out, how about that?”

You nodded thankfully, feeling some weight lifted off you for the first time in a while.

When you pulled back Matty just stared at you for a moment, a thoughtful frown on his face as he wiped below your eyes gently with his thumb.

"This sucks." Your voice is hoarse. You haven't cried in front of anyone in a while.

"C'mon, love, you've seen me in much worse states than you are now. I used to absolutely give it in these stupid day time raves when I was your age. At least you had the right mind to call me."

You feel yourself smile a little.

"I mean my only option if I was really strung out was Mum—can you imagine?" Matty smiled when you let out a laugh.

"I'm happy I could call you."

"Yeah you are.” He ruffled your hair and gently pushed your head away. “Next time you want to party, just give me a ring, yeah?"

“I don’t want to party ever again.” You groaned as you fixed your hair clumsily. “It’s awful.”

"Maybe when you go to a shit club full of losers and tourists!"

“How was I supposed to know?”

“For Christs sake, just call me next time before you have your teenage rebellious moment. I’ll help you brainstorm, cause this one sucked.”

“Shut up!”

(Matty Healy x OFC!Teen!Sister!r)

warnings: crying, mention of divorce and fighting, sibling issues??, absent family members, name, R white ask i guess? should I have done adoptive r or sum? Will rewrite if u wanna!!

a/n: i thought this was gonna be the best thing ive ever written but now idk

Matty was nineteen when he found out his parents were pregnant again. He wasn’t so excited at first. Not angry – just didn’t care. He was out of high school, playing random gigs around London while he waited for the other three to finish University. He was an adult, and practically on his own, having already moved out of the house. Everyone was excited – He just didn’t care.

He drove himself and Louis to meet you at the hospital the day your mother gave birth. Louis couldn’t contain his excitement. He had hoped it was a girl from the day he found out a new baby was arriving. Matty had to tell him to ‘be chill’ when walking inside.

When they walked into the room, you were sat on a warming table in the corner on the other side of the suite. He caught a glimpse. Tiny little thing wrapped up in pink. You had only been alive for a number of hours and they already got a bow on your head, he thought. Louis ran to you while Matty went to your Mum. “Wouldn’t shut up the whole car ride” He said.

When Louis kept jumping up and down shrinking “I wanna hold her! I wanna hold her!” You mum said, “Maybe Matty should hold her?”

He turned to her, pale almost. She did nothing but nod.

“Yeah, alright.” He said.

Louis made some sort of noise in disappointment and went and sat with your mother, your father joining too, and watched Matty near the bassinet.

He peered over the edge, fully laying eyes on you. His breath caught in his throat, just for a brief moment. He doesn;t remember Louis looking this tiny when he was born. Your eyes were closed and you were still. Like a literal baby doll, he thought.

“Go ahead, son.” Your father whispered.

He’s held a baby before. Being the first born and one of the oldest cousins meant being a built-in babysitter at one time or another. But why did it feel so different now?

He lifted you up and held you close. You squirmed slightly,

“What do you think, son?” Your dad said.

He thought for a moment. “Tiny.” Was all he could say.

“Matty, Meet Hazel.”

He tried his best to fight the tear peering from his eye. “Hi, Hazel.” He said, voice barely above a whisper

“Cute, right?”

He let out a quiet “Yeah,” In confirmation.

“You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?”

…..

You sink deeper into the kitchen chair, arms folded so tight it feels like they’re welded in place. Your mum stands by the counter with her mug, giving you that look that’s equal parts stubborn and smug, like she already knows she’s going to win.

“He’s busy, Mum,” you snap, not even bothering to look at her. Your eyes stay fixed on the cracked tile beneath your foot. “It’s not like he’ll have all the free time in the world to ‘sort me out’ while performing on a fucking world tour.”

“You’re his sister – he’s always got time for you.”

You laugh, sharp and bitter. “Yes, because I’ve seen him so much over the course of my sixteen-year life time.”

Her voice drops into that warning tone you know too well. “Hazel.”

You straighten in your chair, chin tilted up like you’ve got armour on. “What? It’s true. He’s been busy with his band since forever. And now I’m supposed to go hang around like some backstage charity case—”

“You are getting on that plane to see your brother and that’s the end of it,” she cuts in, the mug landing on the counter with a sharp clink. “I don’t want to hear another word.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated groan. “You can’t force me to enjoy it.”

“Just think of it as I’m paying for a holiday with your brother,” she says. “Where you don’t have to deal with me on your arse all day.”

That gets you. You try not to show it, but a smile almost tugs at your mouth. Instead you shrug like you’re bored. “Yeah, it might be worth it.”

She smirks, just a little, before picking up her phone. You watch her thumbs fly over the screen, probably texting him already—like you’re some parcel being shipped off.

Matty: What time she land again?

Denise: 11:30. I’ll send you the confirmation.

She’s being a bit cady, fair warning.

Matty: Wonder where she gets it from…

Denise: Oh please

…..

The car park is loud, even though the doors haven’t opened yet. Kids press against the barricades with signs and phones, screaming Matty’s name as he drags you behind him. You keep your hood up, eyes on the ground, chewing the sleeve of your jumper like maybe you can disappear.

“Nearly there,” he mutters, flashing a smile at security.

Inside, the noise dulls, replaced with the clatter of wheels and cases echoing down the concrete halls. You hate the way you feel here—small. Like the building itself swallows you whole. Matty glances back, clocking it, but you cross your arms tight and look away.

“You alright?” he asks.

“I’m fine, Matty.” You make sure your voice has just enough bite.

But you can tell he doesn’t buy it.

He pulls you through to a dressing room. It’s quiet—amp buzzing in the corner, half-eaten pizza sagging on the table. “See?” he says, throwing the door wide. “Sanctuary. Sit, hide, raid the snacks. No one’ll bother you.”

You collapse onto the couch, kicking off your trainers. You don’t reach for food. You don’t grab your phone. You just stare at the carpet until your eyes blur, nails scratching against each other until they sting.

Matty stares at you like that, eventually sighing and droppingh into a chair across from you, elbows on his knees. “Alright. Out with it. You’ve been acting like you swallowed a lemon since you landed. Wanna tell me why Mum flew you across the bloody globe to see me?”

You glance up, sharp. “She didn’t tell you about my one too many out-of-school outings?”

“Just some sparring details.” He smirks. “You on your period 24/7 or what?”

“Matty…”

“What? I’m just trying to understand.”

“You’re not helping.”

He sighs, holding his hands up. “Fine. No more jokes. Either way—I’m happy you’re here.”

You nod, quick, and rip into the sandwich he pushed at you earlier. Bite after bite, chewing like it

You nodded, quick and stiff, then sank back into the decaying couch you were sitting on.

Matty leaned back, watching. Something in his chest twisted. You weren’t just being difficult. You were sad. And he hadn’t been around enough to notice until now.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Hazel…”

You froze.

“Will you tell me what’s happening?.”

And just like that—the wall cracked.

You bit your tongue and looked away, as if it could hide the new fresh falling tears in your eyes.

“I miss you.”

Matty’s jaw clenched, his thumb pressing against the filter of his half-finished cigarette. He hadn’t lit it yet. Couldn’t, not with You looking at him like that—eyes wet, shoulders trembling. It was a look he remembered, suddenly and painfully, from when you were small. When you’d toddle behind him down the hallway, sticky fingers reaching for his hand, terrified of being left behind.

Only now you weren’t a toddler. You were sixteen and furious. Sixteen and broken.

He leaned forward in his seat, “I’m right here Haze–”

“I want you to come home.”

“Hazel… it doesn't work like that, my love.” he sighed. “Come here.”

You shook your head no, which shocked him. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

“Why did you leave?” You said, voice barely audible.

“I’m here, Hazel. I’m right here.”

“No you’re not! You’re halfway across the fucking globe everytime I try and call you! And then you can’t talk because you're working, or on stage, or in a completely different time zone from the one I'm in. You’re never there for me, Matty!”

“That’s not true. I’m always here for you, you’re my sister.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel that way?I know you have a wonderful life outside of me. I know you’re out here, with your best friends, living your dream. But why am I not a part of it?”

He was silent after that. “You’re close with Louis? Is it because I’m a girl?”

“What? No.”

“Is it because I’m younger?”

“No!”

“Then what is it Matty? Tell me what I did?”

“Haze—“

“What did I do? Why did you leave me there?”

He swallowed. “I didn’t leave you, Haze. I swear I didn’t.”

“You did.” Your voice cracked, softening. “You left me with Louis and Mum, and Dad, and when Louis left I had to deal with both of them by myself. The cheating, the divorce, all of it. And you—” You choked, pressing the heel of your palm to your eyes. “You were supposed to be mine. My brother. And you weren’t there.”

Matty felt the words sink into his chest like stones. He hadn’t thought of it that way. He’d thought you were young enough, sheltered enough, to not notice. He’d thought—maybe stupidly—that you had been spared the worst of it.

He reached forward, tentative, and took your wrist, lowering your hand from your eyes. “I’m sorry.” His voice came out rough. “I was a selfish prick. All I cared about was music, and getting out, and my own bloody head. I didn’t mean to leave you with their mess. I thought—Hazel, I thought you’d be alright.”

Your lip wobbled. “I wasn’t.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know now. And I hate myself for not seeing it.” He pulled you closer, and this time you didn’t resist. Your small, wiry frame pressed against his chest, shoulders shaking as you cried.

Matty rested his chin on the top of your head, holding you as tight as he dared. “You didn’t do anything wrong, alright? It’s not because you’re a girl, or because you’re younger, or because of anything you did. It’s me. I should’ve been there, and I wasn’t. But I’m here now.” His voice cracked on the end.

“You’ll just leave again.” The words were muffled against his shirt.

“Not like before,” he promised. “I can’t quit the band, but—” he pulled back just enough to tip your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I can do better. I can answer the phone. I can fly home more. I can let you come with me more. Hell, you think I don’t want to show you off? My kid sister who terrifies teachers and tells Mum to piss off?” He tried for a smile.

It almost worked. You gave the tiniest snort through tears.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, brushing your hair back.

There was a silence, softer now. Just the two of you in the dim backstage lounge, the hum of equipment vibrating through the walls.

“Were you acting out because of me?” he asked again, quieter this time.

You shrugged against him. “Maybe. Probably. I wanted someone to notice.”

“You got my attention,” he said wryly, then his tone gentled. “But you don’t have to break yourself to get me to see you, Haze. I see you. Always have. And I love you.”

Your arms tightened suddenly around his middle, like you were afraid he’d disappear if you let go.

“I love you too, Matty,” you whispered, voice small.

Matty closed his eyes, holding you like he had all those years ago in the hospital, when you were tiny and pink and squirming in his arms. Back then, all he’d managed was “Tiny.” Now, with her pressed against him, older and hurting but still his, the word came back to him.

“Still tiny,” he murmured into your hair, and felt you laugh—shaky, but real—against his chest.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like he’d left her at all.

…..

Bonus: The lads meeting baby sister

“Oi! Shut up, will you!”

Your brother’s voice snaps across the room in a whisper sharp enough to quiet all three of the towering men hovering around him. They fall into a hushed sort of awe, their tall frames leaning down like a forest of giants around you.

Adam’s the first to comment, “That’s the tiniest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“I don’t think I’ve even laid eyes on a proper baby before?” George says, which earns a wack on the back of his head from Ross.

Their voices are rough and clumsy, but curious. You shift in Matty’s arms at the sound, your little fingers curling.

“Guys,” Matty says, softer now, his chin brushing the top of your head. “Meet Hazel Healy.”

“Hi, Hazel,” they all say, too shy, too quiet, too in sync, as if practiced.

The name tugs at you. Your body squirms, and your eyelids crack open to a blurry world of unfamiliar faces. You blink, as if you recognize them. The boys collectively gasp.

“Oi—she moved!”

“She knows her name, that’s what it is!”

“Why her name Hazel if her eyes aren’t hazel?” George blurts, squinting.

Matty lets out a sigh that sounds like he’s already tired. “I don’t know. I didn’t name her. It’s just a pretty name. H and H.”

“Let me hold her.”

“Not you first, me!”

“Have you even held a baby before?”

From the other room, your mum’s voice carries like a bell: “Did you boys wash your hands?”

Silence. Then, muttered: “…No.”

“I better hear a long stream of water coming from the kitchen before you hold that little girl!” Denise calls.

The three boys scatter immediately, bumping into each other, elbows knocking. It’s chaos, lanky limbs scrambling toward the sink. The sound of running water echoes down the hall, followed by childish arguments—

“I was first!”

“No, I was already in front of the sink—”

“You didn’t even use soap, you animal—”

When they pile back into the room, Adam wins, drying his hands on his jeans like a trophy. Matty scowls but carefully passes you over.

“Hi, little Healy,” Adam whispers. His voice is the softest it’s ever been. You coo, your tiny fingers lifting toward his shirt. The other three make noises that sound suspiciously like melting.

“I’ll bet you’re a way cuter baby than your brother ever was, huh?” Adam grins.

“Rude,” Matty mutters, swooping you back with a glare.

“Me next, me next!” George is already crowding in, arms outstretched.

“Support her head—”

“I know how to hold a fucking baby, man,” George whisper-snaps, but his hands are careful as he cradles you. You stare up at him for a beat… then sneeze.

“Well, bless you, miss,” George murmurs, his whole face softening in a way the boys haven’t seen before. “What else does she do?” Ross asks from behind him, leaning in close.

“She’s not a fucking dog,” Matty groans. “She doesn’t perform tricks for your liking, she’s a human.”

“A cute human,” Adam adds, leaning over George’s shoulder.

“That’s right,” George says down at you. “Where’d you get your genes from, Hazel? ’Cause it’s certainly not your brother.”

“You’ve already said that,” Matty grumbles.

“My turn,” Ross says firmly, holding his arms out. “Give.”

George smirks but gently transfers you into Ross’s arms. Ross holds you like you’re spun from glass, shoulders hunched, breath shallow. He stares down with equal parts awe and terror.

You gurgle.

His jaw drops. “She—she made a noise.”

“Christ, Ross,” Matty sighs. “She’s a baby, she’s supposed to make noises.”

You settle after a moment, your tiny hand curling around the drawstring of his hoodie.

“She likes you,” George says, smirking.

“’Course she does,” Ross replies proudly.

Matty reaches out to take you back, shaking his head. “Alright, that’s enough. She’s not a prop, she’s my sister.”