#<- proud standing jeans fan so fucking what if i cant breathe sitting down my ass looks fantastic...

[lostandbackagain]

also val getting shot like 48 times in the chest and almost having her head smashed into paste because she was sitting in standing jeans and couldn't reach the on-switch for her armor is fucking awesome. dying violently in the name of fashion

[heartbreakgrill]

That Smile; Luke Hemmings

description: in which you’re a songwriter, working on Youngblood with 5sos, when a certain blonde catches your eyes.

a/n: there will be a part 2 for this!

“AHHHH!” You threw your green mechanical pencil across the room. It bounced off of the wall, snapping in half, and landing in separate places. One ended up by the door by your shoes, the other on the couch, beside your purse, jacket, and water bottle.

A voice crackled through the speaker system, obvious laughter being bitten back. “Y/N, are you okay?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, hands in fists on either of your temples. You were on the floor, on your back, skinny jean clad legs sprawled out in front of you. Your t-shirt was ridden up on your stomach, revealing a thin strip of your skin to the room, which you were now realizing was freezing. Through welling goosebumps, you grumbled, “I’m never okay, Brad. You know this.”

“I had to check. We have legal obligations in the workplace,” he responded, this time chuckling throughout his spiel.

“Damn, OSHA,” you mumbled into your bottom lip.

Brad hesitated before his voice echoed back in, “They’re here, by the way. Making their way back now.”

“I’m not getting up yet. I’m still moping over my inability to properly write a single-“ your voice rose into a yell now, “fucking line about a stupid fucking boy!”

It was now that you realized the door to the studio was open with the head of receptionist Cindy in the room. “Is this a bad time?”

“I get paid to do this, I have no say,” you dropped your hands to your sides. “Let ‘em in.”

The four lanky boys shuffled in, two dressed like it was New York Fashion Week, the other two lazed about in sweatpants and hoodies. They stood awkwardly against the wall, unsure of how to go about greeting someone having a mental breakdown on the ground below them.

“Hello, I’m sorry, I’m trying to recover,” you began to sit up, back cracking in the process. You straightened your shirt out, catching eyes with the tall blonde. You swear, in the most cringey way, your breath caught in your lungs.

“You’re okay, we go through similar processes,” a curly headed, dirty blond remarked, giggling lightly.

“Yeah, I have plenty of photos of Calum laying on the floor like you were,” long fringe, bright eyes. Michael, perhaps?

You had familiarized yourself with photos of them on the internet, but were not at all confident you knew who they were. In fact, you couldn’t recall anyone’s name when the tall blonde who stole your breath offered his hand. You took it, your hand completely encased in his warm one. Without much efforts, he pulled you off the ground, nearly flush against his chest. But, you made sure to step back when you stood.

“Thanks,” you sighed, shuffling to the couch in your sock-clad feet. “Uh, I’m Y/N,” you introduced while clearing the seating area for them, “I’m sorry, I dont really know your names. Could you-?”

“Luke,” he stuck out the same hand for you to shake; you did.

Michael was who you suspected, Calum the jet black haired man Michael had mentioned, and Ashton the giggly one. You situated yourselves on the couches once you demanded they make themselves at home.

“So, this is your third album?” Of course you knew their music. If you were pairing with an artist on a new project, you had to familiarize yourself with their sound. You couldn’t write a Taylor Swift-like song for Lil Uzi Vert.

“Yeah,” Ashton answered, seemingly the spokesperson for the band. He was sat on the couch across from you, with Calum, Michael in the computer chair by the recording equipment. Luke was beside and, damn, did he smell good.

“What’s the motive?” They looked confused at the question, sharing a furrowed look. With a quick tuck of your legs underneath you on the couch, you launched into explanation, eyes moving from boy to boy. “So, you’re first album was very teen punk, kinda edgy, but safe with cute love songs and innocent forever young vibes. Sounds Good, Feels Good was super grunge with ballads about your actual feelings, a few love songs, and a handful of those same forever young vibes. It was, like, healing for you, almost. Like an album meant to truly introduce your fans to who you are. What do you want to say with this one?”

Luke cleared his throat beside you, “I dont know that we really have a vision with this one. We never really do.”

“Gosh,” you laughed, “no wonder they hired you guys a new songwriter. You have to have a plan! Otherwise it takes way too long and you have no idea what you’re doing. You’ve managed to do awesome without me, but this album, I promise, is going to be amazing.”

They, collectively, grinned at you. “I dont know about you, boys, but Ive got fucking chills!” Ashton exclaimed, shoving Calums shoulder, glancing at Michael.

You grinned back, proud with yourself and your words. You looked over at Luke who had a twinkle in his eyes, a smaller smile that seemed reserved for admiration to you.

-

You’d see that smile many times again throughout the process of writing their new album, later titled Youngblood after the first song you wrote together.

Ashton thought you were a bloody genius, as he would say, again and again.

“Its just a simple lyrical progression, Ash,” you coined his nickname a week into the process, “not that big of a deal.”

He still grinned, continuing to flip at your ‘talent��� with the randomest things.

When Youngblood, the song, was completely recorded and produced, you had a listening party in the small recording studio. You’d baked cupcakes and cookies for everyone, Calum had popped some champagne, and Michael brought his girlfriend along for the celebration.

You got along with Crystal well, chattering about makeup, music, and many other things before Brad came into the room with a frog shaped file USB. You stood from the couch beside Crystal and moved to stand beside Luke, who just so happened to be standing in the spot you wanted to. He smiled down at you, bouncing on his heels in excitement.

As Brad set up the file, Luke said, “The cupcakes are really good. As are the cookies, and the song. Everything, really.”

He was nervous around you. He was never nervous around girls. But something about your overwhelming talent, immense beauty, and super sweet personality made him jittery. He held tightly to his paper cup, nearly breaking in from his squeezing knuckles.

“Thank you, Luke,” you set a hand on his shoulder, prepared to say something else when the song began.

You’d heard it prior to this to ensure that it wouldn’t be utter crap. It was amusing and prideful for you to watch everyone’s jaws drops, to see Calum drop onto the couch with his head in his hands. Ashton danced around, Crystal leaned against Michael, praising his guitar and vocal bits. As the beat picked up and, soon, as it ended, Luke turned to you, lifted you in his arms, and spun you around. You were laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at his hoodie-clad shoulders. When he set you down, you were still laughing, as was he. His laugh faded into that smile, that stupid smile.

-

The next time you saw it was halfway through the album. You had been losing sleep, between handling 5sos as a client and, now, Taylor Swift, who noticed your work through a friend. She wanted a new song, something uplifting and sweet. You agreed to help, not realizing that, now, you were overloaded. And, you weren’t able to devote your time to just 5sos.

One day, at the end of a long studio day, Luke noticed you on the floor of the recoding studio. Youd set yourself there when the boys starting gathering up their things, bidding your farewells with weary hands. Your eyes were no shut, hands resting on your stomach. Luke watched the boys leave and, having driven himself there, sat down beside you. He nudged your leg, gaining your attention through weary eyes.

“Hi,” he smiled, not quite in that way, but still sweetly. “Are you okay?”

“Stressed. Tired. Sick of writing. I haven’t been out with friends in so long and i want to, but all of my friends have normal lives with normal jobs. So they wont go with me during the week, and I cant on the weekends, because Ive been busy with Taylor Swift. God, never thought I’d say that sentence. Anyways, I just really want to get drunk and dance and then cry to someone about being sad, single, and so, so tired.”

“Well,” Luke resisted the urge to pick you up, place you in his lap, cradle you and coo you to sleep, “I’m sure I can urge Ash to have a party in his house. There’s plenty of people who dont care about their jobs or dont even have ‘em.”

You lifted yourself up on to your knees, “I would literally write you, like, an entire song if you got him to do that. I need a night away.”

“No need, I’m fine with one dance reserved for me,” there was the smile. “Oh, and a shot. We have to do a shot together.”

“I would do a million shots with you.”

He walked you to the parking lot, to your car, leaning against the door frame while you turned it on and buckled your seat belt. “Okay, so, Ill send you his address, and see you in a few hours?”

“See you.”

Now, what the hell were you going to wear?

[bensakindofmagic]

Chapter Sixteen

A/N: yo yo waddup it’s ya boi, back again. i'm home for christmas now so instead of writing my dissertation i'm writing fan fiction. what the fuck is new. enjoy the sexy times in this one -- BECAUSE I CANT DEAL WITH BEN IN THAT FUCKING SCENE

Warnings: SMUT (unprotected sex, oral, a wee bit o’ fem dom?? ) 18+ ONLY!, swearing

w/c: 3.3k+

Chapter Sixteen  

Dun dun dun, duh duh duh da da dun. 

That iconic bass line filled the amps and pulsed through the studio like a heartbeat, feeding you all with life. The thrill was palpable, the sense of satisfaction. Another One Bites the Dust had long been one of your favourite Queen songs, and finally seeing it performed by the boys was a thrill. They way they gelled, the way they fed off each other, made you proud beyond words. They riffed and experimented, all playing live, and they truly felt like a real band. Your chest tightened with pride, but the tension coursing through your body was caused by something else. You watched Ben closely, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, head bobbing to the beat, and you couldn’t quite comprehend how good he looked. Muscles clenched tightly under his shirtsleeves, eyes squinting sexily, his whole body was oozing sensuality and rhythm. A few glistening beads of sweat on his forehead caught the light. You ached to straddle him where he sat and ride him, right there, no thought or care for who was watching. The apex of your thighs pulsed with your desire. You scrutinised his every move, hungry for him, and Ben knew it. A few times he had looked over at you and smirked, plump lips curled into a devilish grin. Every so often he would clench, making his arms and chest strain against his shirt and you shifted where you stood, pushing your thighs together, desperate for some kind of pressure. He winked and smiled and you melted. 

The shoot seemed to take a lifetime to complete that day, and though you revelled in watching Ben, watching all of them, you were desperate to get him to yourself. 

The moment that final “cut” was called, you sauntered off to an empty room — small, an office with just a desk and a chair — in the hope that Ben would follow. No sooner had you closed the door than he opened it again and you spun on your heel to face him. He licked his lips, confident, commanding, but little he knew of the fire that had been ignited in your belly. He tried you engulf you in his arms but instead you pushed him backwards, palms against his shoulders, until his back thudded against the door. The way his eyes widened and his lips parted in shock said all you needed to know. You grinned, biting your lips, before thrusting your mouth onto his and kissing him fiercely, all your pent up tension and frustration laced on your tongue like poison. You surreptitiously locked the door (grateful that it had a lock at all), and with the other hand explored the nape of his neck, the curve of his jaw. Your fingers wound their way into the long hair that rested just above his shoulders. It felt alien to you, the long hair, even though you had seen him in the wig many times before. You pulled away and took moment to stare at him, to drink him in; he oozed Roger. You licked your lips. 

“I don’t know who you think you are, Benjamin, looking that sexy in front of everyone,” you purred, pressing your hips firmly to his and rolling them languorously, “getting me all riled up.” 

He only let out a shuddering breath in response as your fingertips trailed down his sides and under his shirt. You dragged your nails along the delicate skin of his stomach and deftly unbuttoned his jeans. His bulge was growing firmer by the second. As your hand ventured into his boxers you leaned up onto your tiptoes to whisper, “Do you know how fucking wet I am?” 

You placed a sloppy kiss on his neck before sucking on his earlobe, pulling it between your teeth, and he gulped. All the while you were dragging your hand along his shaft, massaging him into readiness for you. You took one of his hands that had been resting heavily on your hip and guided it down into your jeans, beneath your underwear, and into the folds of your pussy. Your prolonged arousal had left you dripping and sensitive, so when he dragged his fingers across your clit you shuddered, lips hanging open in silent evidence of your pleasure. You pulled his hand from your heat and placed his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them, diligently licking your wetness from each one. As his hand dropped, his finger dragging over your bottom lip, you met his gaze and saw fierce arousal, lust encoded in the deep green of his eyes. A satisfied smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Slowly, you sank to your knees and pulled the waistband of his trousers and boxers down, allowing his cock to spring free. With another look at Ben you held the base in your fist and took the tip gently into your mouth. You held it there for a moment before releasing it and licking where you lips had been, leaving no part of the head unattended. It tasted salty on your tongue. Again you enveloped it in your mouth, this time as much as you could take until the tip pressed against your throat and you stifled a gag. Leisurely you dragged your mouth up and down, up and down, while Ben groaned above you. You heard a dull thud as his head fell against the door. You established a rhythm, taking him as deeply as you could, gradually speeding up until your jaw ached and tears pricked at your eyes. Ben’s moans grew stronger, more frequent, and just as he announced that he was about to cum you released him, sucking at the string of saliva that still connected your lips to his cock. He whined and trembled as you stood. You kissed him, deeply, allowing him to taste his precum on your tongue; you could feel his body collapsing into yours. 

“Sit down,” you commanded, gesturing towards the chair, voice soft but in absolute control. You forced the hint of nervousness out of your voice. You had been in the driver’s seat before, but never like this. Still, you were too frustrated and too horny to back down.

He did as he was told and you followed, standing before him, surveying him. With deliberate movements you undressed yourself, first pulling off your shirt, then your jeans, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. You moved to straddle his lap and pulled his shirt over his head. Fingers traced along his chest, muscles tightening under your touch, making his skin ripple like waves in a pond. He sighed. Again you took his cock in your hand and he twitched. 

“Not yet, baby,” you breathed lustfully. “You cum when I tell you to, okay?” 

He nodded obediently, his eyes quickly shifting to your breasts where they sat, plump, beneath a lacy bra. 

“Do you want to touch them?” you intoned, cocking your head, all innocence. Again, he nodded but you tutted in response. “I need to hear you say it, big boy.”

“Yes please,” he rasped. 

“Good boy, go ahead.” 

His hands moved to cup your breasts while you unclasped your bra and threw it off to the side. He massaged them so gently, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed as you breathed and locked your fists into his hair. He serviced the other too, then left a deep purple hickey in the valley between your breasts. You tucked your hand under his chin, angling it so he was forced to look at you. 

“Tell me what you want,” you purred. 

“Ride me, please.” His voice was weak, desperate.

You nodded, holding your weight to position yourself above him. Pulling your panties out of the way you rubbed yourself, spreading your wetness and readying yourself. You took hold of his cock and paused, looking directly into his eyes, “You have to promise not to cum yet, okay?” 

“I promise.” 

You lined him up and sat down onto him; he sucked in a breath through his teeth. You rocked against him, agonisingly slowly, letting your pelvis press hard against his. You held his jaw, forcing him to watch your face, while you watched the place where your bodies became one. Your breathing shallowed, heart rate increased, you wanted to cum, but didn’t want Ben to. You stilled, revelling in the delicious fullness of him inside you, delighting in the whine that emanated from Ben, and you rubbed your clit firmly. Soon your fingers weren’t enough: you craved his mouth. 

“I want you to eat my pussy, baby, will you do that for me?” 

When he nodded eagerly you stood up and backed onto the desk, sitting on the edge, legs spread, exposed. He pushed off his trousers and boxer that had pooled around his thighs, then got on his knees before you and his tongue soon found your slit. You sighed in relief at the warmth of his mouth. With his arm wrapped around your thigh he kissed and sucked and licked, playing with you like a kitten with a ball of wool. Your chest heaved as you panted, you moaned and whimpered as he devoured you. 

“Oh baby, you’re so good at that.” 

With your fist in his hair you pulled him away and he stood between your legs. You held him close, hands gripping his bum, and licked his bottom lip, cleaning your arousal off of it. You asserted, dripping eroticism, “Fuck me.” 

He moved to enter you but you stopped him with a hand on his chest. You stood and turned, then bent over to display yourself to him. Ben licked his lips, ran his fingers briefly up and down your slit, before gripping your hips and thrusting into you firmly. His pace was rapid from the start, only becoming more frantic as he got closer to the edge. Your breasts pounded into the desk with every thrust.

“Harder,” you ordered, and he obliged. With one of his large hands around your thigh he pulled your knee up to rest on the desk, allowing him greater access and pounded you harder than before, reaching a place so deep inside you that you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from screaming out. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m close… I need to… can I cum, please? Fuck, please please-” 

“Not yet,” you said absolutely steadfastly, despite the way his pleading made the knot in your stomach tighten. Your fingers found your clit and rubbed furiously, aching for the sweet release that you had craved all day. 

“Keep going Benny, fuck. Just hold on. Just bit longer, I’m so close.”

Ben groaned with the strain of it, his whole body clenched, desperate, but still he fucked you and soon your legs started to quiver. You felt your orgasm creeping into your stomach, tension giving way to release, and your body collapsed against the desk as you came, moaning and panting and sweating and swearing. The walls of your pussy clenched around Ben again and again, only milking him ever closer.

He begged, “Please, Y/N, please, I can’t hold it…”

You moved to stand, so Ben pulled out of you, taking his cock in his hand and pumping rapidly as you got to your knees in front of him. 

“Okay, baby, let go, cum for me,” and you opened your mouth, allowing your tongue to rest over your bottom lip, waiting for his load. Within seconds he was shooting strings of sticky sweet cum into your mouth and over your cheeks. His face was clenched, eyes tight shut, and a moan rattled deep in his chest. You swallowed, collecting the rest of it on your finger and licking it off as Ben watched you in awe. 

“Christ, Y/N, you’re incredible.”

You stood and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, placing a firm kiss on his lips. 

“It’s all for you, I guess you bring out the best in me,” you smiled. “Now come on, we better get dressed, people will be wondering where you’ve got to.” 

You quickly pulled your clothes back and, and no sooner had you done up the last button of your shirt did you hear footsteps down the corridor. You unlocked the door and stepped out to see none other than Josh making his way towards you. He stopped in his tracks, jaw practically on the floor, as his eyes darted between you and Ben. Your clothes were crumped, your hair dishevelled, and the distinct smell of sex followed you.

“You two! You two are fucking?”

“Shit,” you cursed. 

“Come on mate, have some respect,” Ben stepped in, always wanting to defend you. 

“I can’t believe it,” Josh proclaimed. “She told me she wouldn’t date me ‘cause she “doesn’t fool around with colleagues”, and lo and behold, I find it’s ‘cause she’s fucking the actors! Sleeping your way to the top are you?” 

You felt more than saw Ben’s shoulders tense and him take a step forward. You slipped your hand in his and held him beside you before he did something stupid. “Leave it Ben, he’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it, is it? You think I’m not worthy of you? Well I think you’re a fucking whore, love.” 

Ben fumed and made towards Josh but before he could do any damage you strode in front of him, marched straight up to Josh, and slapped him across the face.

“How dare you?” you snarled, “How dare you speak to me like that and how dare you insinuate that I am using Ben? I just so happens that I am in a loving relationship with him. You on the other hand, you I turned down because I thought you were a smarmy, egotistical arsehole. If you ever say another word to me that isn’t strictly professional I will report you for harassment in the workplace.” 

You stormed past you and Ben followed close behind, glaring at Josh as he passed him like a tiger staring down its prey. 

You and Ben did not go home together that evening — you wanted to call Savannah to vent to her — but when you met at work the next morning he greeted you with a warm smile and a hug. 

“You okay?” 

You nodded against his cheat, “Yeah, I’m still a bit pissed off but fine.” 

“Me too. If I see that git today I’m going to have to try seriously hard not to punch him in the face.”

You pulled back to look at him, “I think the chances of bumping into him are pretty high, given that you’re working on the same set.”

“I know, that’s what I’m worried about.” 

Your light chuckle was interrupted by the voice of your producer, Graham, as he strode towards you, “Ben, Y/N…” You detached from each other, nervous. Graham didn’t often come to set, so when he was there it was a big deal. “Can I have a word with you both?”

Graham had found a quiet room with a couple of sofas. He sat on one with you and Ben on the other, leaving a conspicuous gap between you. Graham sipped thirstily at his coffee, “You know, I’ve been working on film sets for years but I’ve never been able to get used to the early mornings.” 

You laughed nervously through your nose. You hadn’t sat down, face-to-face with Graham since you’d been hired. 

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you both because word has reached me that there might be something going on between you, and while there isn’t actually anything wrong with that, there are some people who are unhappy about it and I need to know if it’s something that’s going to cause any issues.”

You held your head in your hands, your whole body deflating. This was exactly what you had been trying so hard to avoid.

“That fucking prick,” Ben muttered beneath his breath. 

It didn’t go unnoticed, “Excuse me?” 

Ben shifted in his seat but sat up a little taller, “Josh reported us to you, didn’t he? If there’s anyone going to be causing problems it’s him. The things he said to Y/N were despicable.”

“Well that is certainly something I’ll want to address but let’s take things one at a time, shall we?”

 You lifted your head and sighed, “What do you need to know, sir?”

“First and foremost, I need to know if this is going to compromise the shoot. Workplace romances are not forbidden and certainly not uncommon, but when they happen across levels of the hierarchy they tend to cause problems. One party tends to, shall we say, expect things from the other. It can get ugly.”

“I’m not expecting anything from Ben,” you defended, somewhat indignant, “and I’m not going to blackmail him, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” 

Graham responded, “I’m not saying you are, and I certainly wouldn’t expect it from you Y/N, but it wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.”

“Well it won’t happen with us.” You could feel Ben’s eyes on you. 

“I apologise if this is uncomfortable for you, but as I’ve had a complaint about your behaviour I have to take this seriously,” Graham said, entirely diplomatic. 

“Christ, what is there to complain about? Josh is just jealous because he had a crush on Y/N and he’s bitter that she rejected him. You should be more worried about his behaviour.” 

“Well, what he told me would make your behaviour equally unprofessional — having sex on set, during working hours? We don’t pay you to sneak off for a quickie in a quiet corner.” 

You seemed to shrink in your seat, feeling thoroughly humiliated; you hadn’t been admonished like that since school. But worse, you started to panic, chest constricting and breathing shallowing, in fear for your job. You had tried to be so careful, even risking your heart and happiness to avoid the very thing that was happening, and it all came crumbling down because you saw Ben in one sexy costume and you snapped. 

“Sir, I’m—” you began but Ben interrupted you.

“It’s not just sex, if that’s what you think.” He sidled closer to you, pulling one of your hands into his lap and taking it in both of his, “We’re in a relationship, hell, I’m in love with her.” 

Time seemed to stand still. Suddenly the tightness in your chest, the panic in your bloodstream, was caused by something else entirely. 

He’s in love with me.

That was the first time he had said it and it terrified you. It was the first time you’d heard those words since Matteo and all you could think about was how you had lost yourself in him when he said it. Granted, you and Ben had been together nearly three months and truly, you’d never felt about anyone the way you did about him — you adored him, you pictured yourself building a life with him, growing old with him — but love? Love is a strong word. It didn’t feel like you’d been through anything hard enough yet to warrant calling it love. How could it be love when it was so easy? 

“Is this the case, Y/N?” 

You had been staring. Startled, you replied, “We started dating in October. It’ll be three months soon.”

“Look, there’s only two weeks left of filming and we’ve got enough drama as it is. I’m willing to let this go and say no more about it.”

You felt the tension in your shoulders abate, “I’d be very grateful for that.”

“However,” Graham continued, “I cannot guarantee that this hasn’t got out. I’m fairly certain Josh has been talking to more people than just me. I’ll talk to him but you’ll have to handle everyone else.”

Ben grinned, “That’s no problem. Thank you Graham.” 

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