"Well, she says beauty brings copies of itself into being. That it makes us draw it, take photographs of it, describe it to other people; it has a forward momentum. And I always thought that that was a sort of - superficial, I guess - way of putting it. But I feel that when I'm with you. Almost like I want to savour you up so that the minute you're gone there's still some of you left." From meeting in a second-hand bookshop in central Manchester, Este and Matty begin exchanging questionable (and pretentious) book recommendations and flourish an alluring interest in one another. - 15 of 15 parts completed - parts including star (★) indicate blurbs or extras, some requested from Tumblr users and first uploaded to 3terna15unshine.tumblr.com

"You're pretty," his fingertips found my jawline, "When you cry." "Only then?" I smirked, lip quivering. My skin warmed where he touched me. He licked his lower lip, shaking his head. He palpated for my jawbone, tracing it up to my ear. "Your eyes get all glassy and bright," his other hand brushed over my lower lashes. My breath froze in my lungs as I tried to stay still for him. "Your lips blush up, all flowery and springtime." My lips parted for his thumb, which pulled and pushed my bottom lip. I was burning from his attentive gaze, his wide-open pupils and concentrated brow. I was convinced he could see the heat coming off me. "And your skin," he kissed the center of my cheek, open-mouthed and wet. "You taste like the sea." "I-" Any words I tried to form caught in my tongue as he tasted my skin, inhaling as he moved down my jaw. He exhaled, a sweet breeze, cooling my flushed cheek. "You're moonlight on water," he kissed my neck. "You're distant rain, clouds falling into the horizon." I laughed, pulling back to look at him, "What are you, then?" He shrugged, blinking, "I'm watching."

WARNING: This story contains explicit sexual content. Not recommended for precious little eyes. Please remember to practice safe sex always and don't fall in love with boys like Matty. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My middle finger scrolled through the questions on my laptop, tapping loudly in annoyance. "Do you find yourself interrupted by sexual thoughts or desires as you are completing mundane daily tasks?" I asked him. Matty's index finger was tracing the square of his jaw now, which was atypically speckled with perfectly symmetrical stubble. I noticed every detail about him, the curve of his lips, the slant of his brows, the itty-bitty moles scattered on his face. "Sometimes," he answered. "For example, today, I was thinking about you in the shower, about how nice it'd be to fuck you against the glass door." I grinded my teeth together and clenched my hands tight. "Matty," I said, trying to be as firm as possible. "Those kinds of comments are inappropriate." Especially because I was imagining the same thing this morning, and for him to have been doing the same thing, it floored me. "You said to answer as truthfully and honestly as possible, Jones," he shrugged, toying with his hair. "My turn? Am I frustrating you, darling?"

Fan fiction // Matty Healy The 1975 // Book 1 // "We're not a love story, darling, we're a cautionary tale." Cover by @21duns

[COMPLETED] On her way to her new job, Nadine encounters someone mysterious. He's involved with everything she's not-corruption, guns, drugs, and the rich white business men that he supplies. Nadine becomes intrigued by everything and anything he does; unsure if it could put her in danger.

Elle Grey doesn't need anyone. She only needs herself, a paintbrush, and if she gets desperate enough, there are the few people she actually tolerates that she can talk to. She knows that there's more out there in the world - in fact, she spends most of her time either daydreaming or painting about it. She knows that the South Dakotan town she's grown up in is only suffocating her. That's why she finds Harry so intriguing. He's different and he brings out something in her that she wasn't sure was still there. Suddenly she's second-guessing everything she has known her entire life - maybe she does need someone.

He lifts his hand, slowly tracing his fingers up her arm until they reach her face leaving goosebumps and a warm trail behind. Then he moves just his pinky finger across her cheekbone, dragging along until he pulls the stray strands of hair behind her ear. She's silent, holding her breath as her eyes stay on him, only him, and he whispers, "Show me yours, I'll show you mine."