The 1975
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- Parts 95
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So far, it's alright.
You're in New York, loud, hungry, impossible New York, where everything's moving too fast and nothing ever really lands. Your best friend drags you out to some half-legal speakeasy, a hidden gem from people in the industry, swears it'll change your life like he always does, and maybe you let him. Maybe because it's easier than sitting at home with your own silence. You don't go looking for Matty Healy. You just find him, or maybe he finds you. Cigarette between his teeth, knuckles tattooed and jaw shadowed, half-drunk on something expensive and godlike without even trying. He's all sharp lines and soft ruin, the kind of man who speaks in riddles and sings like he's bleeding. You're a photographer...freelance, half-known, half-hungry..and you've made a career out of capturing chaos, but nothing prepares you for him. You shouldn't want him, you know that. But want doesn't ask permission. And once you fall in, it's like being dragged under by a current you didn't know was there. This isn't just a love story. It's about the wreckage you carry and the parts of you that music drags back to life. It's about grief that doesn't knock, about needing too much and trying to want less. You lose yourself in his world, in the green rooms and red lights, the 3 a.m. truths, the hangover confessions. The fame, the heat, the damage. And him, always him, in the eye of it all. It's not tidy, nor clean. It's real. Once it starts, there's no going back. So far, it's alright.
matty healy, falling in love over night
when you're 17 and not looking for love you find it in the most unexpected places at least that's the case for grace. meeting a stranger at 3am with dark eyes and curly hair could either be the best thing to happen to her or the worstComplete
i think i love you • matthew healy
"you shouldn't have left, you know." "i don't know, matty. i think life's been better when i left you." - sequel to "takes a bit more" -Complete
Lover I Don't Have To Love
Los Angeles, 2013. The 1975 are on the edge of fame, and Matty Healy is unraveling as quickly as he's rising. In a sweat-soaked dive bar, he meets an aspiring actress with fire in her eyes and loneliness in her bones. Their connection is instant - cigarettes, bruised laughter, late-night confessions - but it isn't love. What begins as hunger and escape spirals into a ritual of destruction: hotel rooms, empty bottles, whispered promises, and the needle that binds them tighter than desire ever could. This is not a happy love story. It's a fever dream - two souls chasing oblivion, desperate to feel everything and nothing all at once.
drugs- m.h
-His mouth hung open in awe at her, he thought she was everything. She held his jaw with a hand and blew her smoke into his mouth. He almost melted - In which lovers become friends who become confused. -Explicit content- Started- November 2018 Finished- August 2019Complete
four alarm fire // matty healy
Eris and her twin brother, Isaac, see the lavish life people life online and envy every bit of it. Their form of payback against the people that flaunt their riches? Waiting until their holiday comes to steal everything of value in their home. Clothes, antiques, and sometimes drugs (if they're lucky). Uncle is the ringleader of their operation. In exchange for a large cut of their earnings, he provides them with protection and knowledge. A small price to pay for kids that have been left behind. Next target: Matty Healy Time away: Approximately two months, on tour Security level: Basic Things to steal: Music equipment, drugs, clothes, etc. *This is a work of fiction.*Complete
![𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 - 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋 [✓]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/228292864-256-k533949.jpg)
You're in New York, loud, hungry, impossible New York, where everything's moving too fast and nothing ever really lands. Your best friend drags you out to some half-legal speakeasy, a hidden gem from people in the industry, swears it'll change your life like he always does, and maybe you let him. Maybe because it's easier than sitting at home with your own silence. You don't go looking for Matty Healy. You just find him, or maybe he finds you. Cigarette between his teeth, knuckles tattooed and jaw shadowed, half-drunk on something expensive and godlike without even trying. He's all sharp lines and soft ruin, the kind of man who speaks in riddles and sings like he's bleeding. You're a photographer...freelance, half-known, half-hungry..and you've made a career out of capturing chaos, but nothing prepares you for him. You shouldn't want him, you know that. But want doesn't ask permission. And once you fall in, it's like being dragged under by a current you didn't know was there. This isn't just a love story. It's about the wreckage you carry and the parts of you that music drags back to life. It's about grief that doesn't knock, about needing too much and trying to want less. You lose yourself in his world, in the green rooms and red lights, the 3 a.m. truths, the hangover confessions. The fame, the heat, the damage. And him, always him, in the eye of it all. It's not tidy, nor clean. It's real. Once it starts, there's no going back. So far, it's alright.
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