#starrprincess

“Just let me see them now!”

“Nope.”

“Please? I’ll give you a week’s worth of blowjobs.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m gonna hold out on this one, love.”

“Harold!”

“Ooh, ‘Harold’; we’re goin’ by full names now, yeah? Am I in trouble?”

“You’re about to be,” you pouted, rolling onto your back and staring pointedly up at the ceiling. Harry chuckled softly, scooting closer to you on the bed. He reached out, his long fingers brushing against your left cheek in a pathetic attempt to sway you. You made an indignant noise of protest, twisting your head to the side and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Don’t be like that,” Harry said, his shoulders slumping; his right arm fell limply against your chest. You gasped when his palm landed squarely on your left breast, and he grinned mischievously.

Fine. You could play dirty too.

“Please?” you tried one last time, rolling over again and cuddling up to him. You burrowed your head into the crook of his neck, trailing the tip of your nose along one of the prominent veins that ran up his throat. Harry’s jugular jumped as he swallowed heavily, and you smiled to yourself.

“Please, Daddy?”

He stiffened.

“You fuckin’—,” he was on top of you in a matter of seconds. You laughed, staring up at him. His jaw was tense, lips set into a firm line, nostrils flaring and muscles rigid as he pinned your wrists above your head. His true emotions were only revealed through his eyes—weak, pleading, desperate for you to stop before he cracked.

“’S not fair, love,” your boyfriend croaked, his voice hoarse. Your eyes widened innocently.

“What’s not fair, Daddy?”

Harry shook his head, inhaling deeply. “I’m done. Goodnight.”

“What?” you broke character, watching incredulously as he rolled off of you. Your chest was heaving in anticipation, ready for him to take control, but he just shook his head once more before settling down onto the other side of the bed, as far away from you as possible. You watched his back muscles ripple beneath the light blue fabric of his shirt, your lips parting in surprise.

“We’re not doing this.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into his pillow, still facing away from you, “You’re not gonna just whip that out and convince me.”

“Harry,” you were begging now, but Harry made a warning noise low in his throat, and you clamped your mouth shut. You let out a heavy sigh, hoping to convey how disappointed you were, but your boyfriend didn’t respond. After that, you gave up for the night, turning around and hugging your pillow close to your chest. A long moment of silence followed.

“I love you,” Harry said. You rolled your eyes.

“If you love me so much, why aren’t you over here spooning me?”

“I’m not stupid, little girl. I know that ‘spooning’ isn’t all we’d be doing.”

You groaned defeatedly, shifting slightly so that your cold feet rubbed up against the burning skin of your boyfriend’s calf; Harry yelped. You smiled smugly and clutched the pillow a bit tighter against your torso, settling into a comfortable position for the night (as comfortable as you could be without Harry’s arms wrapped around you). You released a fleeting sigh.

“I love you too, I guess.”

Harry’s faint chuckles reached your ears. “Know you do.”

~*~

You set your toothbrush down, spitting into the sink one last time and turning the tap. Immediately, the rush of water ceased, and everything was silent. You padded out of your bathroom, your brow creasing when you saw that your boyfriend was missing from the queen-sized bed in the middle of your bedroom. You scanned the room, but Harry was nowhere to be found.

“Harry?” you called out, your eyebrows knitting together.

There was no reply, so you tried again, a little louder. “Harry?”

A muffled reply floated through the air, and you turned towards the open door of your bedroom. Tilting your head to the side in confusion, you padded across the room and entered the hallway, walking towards the flight of stairs—the sound of shuffling and other voices became more pronounced.

The television was on, though the volume was extremely low. You bit your lip once you descended the last step. You peered into the living room, your eyes landing on the back of Harry’s head, a dark silhouette against the screen. All the lights were closed, and the room was bathed in a green glow as he watched the baseball game, seemingly completely enraptured.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” you asked softly. Harry shook his head.

“What’s going on?” you said, your lips turning down into a slight frown.

“’M sleeping on the couch tonight,” Harry replied, his voice low and scratchy. You balked, mouth popping open in surprise.

“I—what?” you said, keeping your voice low, “Why? Did I do something?”

At that, Harry turned around, his eyes wide. When he saw your face, he let out a small sigh, running his right hand through his short hair and motioning for you to come closer. You obeyed, circling around the couch so that you could face each other. Harry held out his hand to you, and you took it hesitantly. In an instant, he had you pulled down and planted in his lap, a shocked sound bubbling up from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you asked, peering up at him from under your eyelashes. Harry smiled softly, one of his abnormally large hands coming up to cup the back of your neck. You shivered when you felt the cool metal of his rings against your skin. He leaned in, pressing a hard, bruising kiss to your lips; you gasped at the contact.

“I’m sorry it’s come to this, pet,” he murmured, pulling back and pressing your foreheads together. You shuddered—he only ever used that term when he was especially endeared, or irreparably angry. You had no idea which circumstance this fell under, and it made you uneasy.

“Did I do something?” you repeated your earlier question, breathless from the kiss.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “No. But I might.”

“Harry, what the hell—?” you began, but he leaned in, kissing you again. A reedy whimper echoed in your throat, and your hands flew up to his chest, gripping the collar of his shirt in tight fistfuls. Harry seemed to be pouring every ounce of himself into the kiss, his jaw moving as he coaxed your mouth open, sliding his tongue inside.

“Wait,” you gasped, pulling back and setting a firm palm on his chest to keep him from chasing after you. “What? I’m so—what the fuck?”

Harry laughed, covering his mouth with his hand to keep from disturbing the quiet atmosphere. Your forehead creased as you stared at him, utterly lost. If you hadn’t done anything, then what was he talking about? What the hell was happening?

“Every night for the past week,” Harry began, his voice low, “You’ve tried to get me to show you the pictures. ‘M gonna crack sooner or later, so I’m just…trying to avoid it, that’s all.”

You blinked.

And then you smacked his arm. Hard.

“Ow!” Harry yelped, and the tranquility of the moment was gone.

“What the damn hell?” you said loudly, scowling. “You had me really worried for a second!”

“This is a worrisome situation!” Harry protested, but you could hear the laugh in his voice. You narrowed your eyes at him, balling your hands up into fists and crossing your arms over your chest. Harry tried to mirror your expression but eventually, the humour of the affair overtook him, and he grinned teasingly at you. Your frown only deepened, and he made a cooing sound, his right hand cupping your cheek and rubbing at the corner of your lips.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, “Smile for me, pet.”

You had to repress a shiver. His voice was low and scratchy, the kind of tone he only ever used when he had your body underneath him, your legs crammed up against your chest and your hands clawing pathetically at his back.

“No,” you grumbled, looking away. “So, you’re refusing to sleep with me because you’re afraid I’m going to pester you? That’s what this is all about?”

“What kind of ‘sleep with’ are you referring to here? ‘Cause, I mean—I’m more than willing to fu—”

“Actual sleeping, Harry,” you snapped, and Harry finally seemed to realize that you were annoyed. The smile melted from his face, and his bright eyes clouded over with concern. He stroked along your cheek, his left hand rubbing up and down your thigh comfortingly. You swallowed, avoiding his gaze.

“Why are you so upset over this?” he asked softly. You stared down at his chest, your fingers tapping out an irregular sequence on his strong pectorals. Under different circumstances, he would’ve teased you for the lack of rhythm, but he seemed to know better than to do so right now.

“Is it annoying?” you mumbled. “When I ask?”

Harry absorbed your words, and then he cocked his head to the side. “What? No, ‘course not, pet. It’s…really fuckin’ nice, if I’m being honest. I’m glad that you’re so eager.”

He chuckled, and despite your insecurities, you smiled softly. You exhaled, uncrossing your arms and running your left hand through your hair. Harry angled his body forward, puckering his lips and pressing a tender kiss to the tip of your nose. He sighed, burying his face into the crook of your neck and biting gently. You tapped his chest, a sharp gasp leaving your lips, and he smirked.

“How am I—?” you broke off, “How am I going to sleep without you spooning me?”

Your boyfriend chuckled, his tongue poking out a licking a fat stripe up the column of your neck. You yelped, recoiling and wiping at the wet spot on your skin. Fuelled by this distraction, Harry’s left hand abandoned your thigh, moving inward and cupping skillfully over the crotch of your nightwear.

Immediately, your protests died on your tongue. Harry snickered, leaning in and pressing a hot, lingering kiss to the right side of your jaw.

“How ’bout you ride my thigh? That should make you real sleepy, yeah?”

“I don’t think—,” you tried, but even you knew that your protests had no real sincerity behind them. Harry smiled, taking your earlobe between his straight, pearly teeth, and biting gently. You closed your eyes, tipping your head back and providing him with more space to torture you and leave you breathless.

“You wanna cum, love? Wanna show me how you would ride my cock?”

“Yes,” you squeaked out—he’d started rubbing against you methodically, his thumb scoping around for your clit, eager for provocation. You could feel his grin as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“Go on then. Use my thigh. Tire yourself out for me, pet.”

~*~

“Harry!” you cried as you flew down the staircase. You held onto the banister tightly with your right hand, your left clutching a rolled-up booklet and holding it close to your chest. From the kitchen, you could hear Harry’s laughter, a sure sign that you were meant to discover the magazine underneath your pillow.

“Found it, did you?” His words were laced with humour, and he pushed himself off from where he was leaning against the counter. He turned, only to let out a startled groan when you catapulted yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and clinging unforgivingly to his torso.

“And you liked it too, I guess,” he chuckled, his hands flying down to grip your ass. You peppered kisses along the column of his neck as he set you down onto the marble countertop; you squeaked when the cold surface met the underside of your thighs. Harry grinned, playing with the hem of your shorts and pulling away, despite your whiny protests.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking at you with inquisitive eyes. It seemed like he wanted a real answer, a comment on the camera angle, or the outfits, or the posing. You felt bad that you were unable to offer such an eloquent response just yet.

“You look so good,” you whimpered, grabbing fistfuls of his white t-shirt and searching for something else to say. “So…so…”

“Good?” Harry supplied, smirking. You didn’t bother reprimanding him, settling only for another helpless whimper and a vigorous nod. You tightened your hold on the material of his shirt, glancing at the magazine laying forgotten on the counter. He just looked so good.

“You’ve said that already, love,” Harry snickered, and you realized that you’d voiced your thoughts. You bit your lip, winding your legs around his hips loosely and pulling him closer to you. His smile faltered, eyelids drooping slightly as he recognized the look on your face—your parted lips, dilated pupils, flared nostrils as you sucked in deep breaths.

“Wow,” he said, and this time his voice was void of all mockery. “You really liked those pictures, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, closing your eyes when you felt his hand land on your thigh, his thumb rubbing up against the soft skin on the inside of your leg. You inhaled sharply when he began moving upwards, having memorized your body and every trick that would leave you wrecked.

“Didn’t know you were so easy for it, pet,” Harry murmured, a hint of awe lacing each syllable. His hand continued travelling up your thigh, but he had slowed his pace significantly. You pressed your lips together—he was only trying to get a rise out of you, and you weren’t going to grant his wish that quickly.

“Are you wet?”

Your eyes snapped open, a faint gasp leaving your lips. Even after all this time, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to Harry’s mouth and the vulgar things that left his lips. It was him—he was fantastic at getting you riled up, at making you soak your panties using only his words. If any other man attempted such a feat, he would pale in comparison. Harry was Harry, and that was why you were currently sat here, your chest heaving and your toes curling as experienced fingers snaked up your thigh.

You realized that Harry was still waiting for an answer. Looking up, you met his eyes—there was only a thin ring of green surrounding his pupils. His lips were pursed, and he was watching you attentively. You lowered your gaze, granting him a whispered and embarrassed yes.

“Can I see?” Harry asked gruffly, “Will you let me have a peek, love?”

“M—more—,” you wheezed suddenly as Harry’s hand finally reached where you needed him most. He had abandoned his gentle actions, opting instead to grind his palm against the crotch of your shorts. You lurched forward as though you’d been punched, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

“What was that?” Harry said.

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply before blurting out, “More. You—you can have more, Harry, you can have more.”

You squeaked when Harry dipped his fingers between the waistband of your shorts. He let out a surprised noise, the sound quickly melting into a groan when he realized that you weren’t wearing any panties. You leaned against him, muffling your whimpers against his left shoulder as he buried his face into the crown of your head and pressed sporadic kisses into your hair.

“So, so good to me,” he murmured. “You’re so good t’me, love.”

“Harry,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut.

His body rumbled with a chuckle. “I know, pet. ‘M coming.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the only sound that came out was a breathless stutter as Harry found your clit, establishing an unforgiving pace. You shuddered, tingly bolts of pleasure running through your veins as he rubbed you. Harry pressed his mouth to your temple, and you gasped when you felt his index finger swipe down your folds, circling your entrance and barely dipping inside.

“Gonna let me have it?” he asked, his lips moving against your skin. “Gonna let me take what’s mine, love?”

“Yes,” you spoke unabashedly, nodding and pressing a kiss to his left collarbone. “Take it, please take it.”

“Yeah?” Harry snickered, and you couldn’t even force yourself to be embarrassed. This had been what you wanted since you’d discovered that magazine beneath your pillow, since you’d flicked through the pages and stared at each magnificent photo with wide eyes and clenched thighs. You don’t know what had come over you—maybe it had been the satisfaction of finally being able to see what he’d been keeping from you. Maybe it had been the pent-up sexual frustration you’d been harbouring for the past few days. Or maybe it had been the pride swirling in your chest, the smile against which you’d fought as you flipped through the issue and studied each page.

“Please,” you breathed, and Harry nodded.

You pressed kisses along his neck, as he slowly slid the first finger into you. “Fuck,” he wheezed, “So tight, pet. ‘S not even my dick, but you’re...squeezing me.”

At the mention of his cock, you moaned loudly. Harry grinned, pulling back and gripping your chin with his left hand, forcing you to look up at him while his index finger pumped into you steadily. He tilted his head to the side and ran his tongue along his pink upper lip, his eyes watching you intently.

“Want that, yeah? Want my cock in your cunt?”

You moaned again, the sound prompted by both his words and the addition of another finger inside of you, stretching you open as he scissored his digits languidly. Your nails dug into his shoulders through the cotton of his t-shirt, leaving tiny crescents in their wake.

“Dont worry,” Harry told you, “I’m gonna give it to you. Haven’t been treating my girl right lately, have I?”

“S-so good,” you choked out. “You treat me—oh—so good—Harry!”

“Yeah?” he challenged, his brows creasing. “How long’s it been since I last fucked you? Too fuckin’ long, if you ask me. Dunno how I survived without it.”

“Then fuck me,” you pleaded, a mewl tumbling from your lips. Your hips began gyrating, lifting to get his fingers deeper. Harry’s thumb continued to rub relentlessly against your clit, making you shudder as bolts of electricity danced up your spine. You tried to lean forward against him once more, but he stopped you.

“Wanna see your face when you cum, love.”

Your bottom lip quivered, and you shook your head. “Don’t—don’t wanna cum like this. Not yet.”

“No?” Harry cocked an eyebrow. “How do you wanna cum, then? Tell me.”

You pursed your lips, inhaling deeply as he curled his fingers inside of you. He connected with that special spot, and your eyebrows flew up, an abrupt shout leaving you. Harry grinned, and you panted, gripping his biceps tightly and trying to steady your breathing. He was such a tease.

“You gotta tell me, love,” Harry mused, “How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t speak up?”

“You’re such a—,” you growled.

“Think that’s wise, pet? I am in control of your orgasm, y’know.”

You pouted, slumping backwards. You twitched when Harry repeated his previous action, the pads of his fingers pressing firmly against a spot inside of you that had you momentarily seeing white. Your right hand left his bicep, shooting down and gripping the edge of the counter—you were desperate, needing something solid to keep you from losing your mind and succumbing to the hot feeling that pooled in the pit of your stomach.

“I want—,” you inhaled shakily, “I want you to fuck me. P-please.”

You hated how your voice faltered on the last word, but it seemed to be enough for Harry. He smirked, retracting his fingers from your slick passage and giving your clit a light tap. You whimpered, and his smirk elongated into a grin, stretching the corners of his lips and presenting his dimple to you.

“Asked so nicely, love. ‘M gonna fuck you, don’t worry.”

With those words, he gripped the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your hips. You lifted your bottom half, hoping to facilitate his movements, and within a few moments, you were kicking the offending material away. Harry reached for his own bottoms, yanking the elastic of his sweatpants down. You froze, eyeing the way his cock slapped up against his covered stomach—so he hadn’t been wearing underwear either.

“I want it,” you whimpered, reaching for him. It was suddenly like you couldn’t breathe, the desperation making you feel incomplete without him inside, filling you up.

Harry swore under his breath, gripping his cock as he stepped closer to you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, guiding him down to you and kissing him for the first time that night. He squeezed your hips appreciatively, his lips soft and plush against your own. You sighed happily when his tongue swiped against your mouth, silently requesting permission. You parted your lips, allowing him entry for only a moment before you were pulling back, fingers gripping the collar of his shirt.

“Get this off,” you begged.

Harry reached for the hem, his fingers brushing yours as he did so. You leaned back as he hauled the material over his head, balling it up and tossing it to the side. Your hands trailed down to rest on his chest, over the two swallows that had been permanently inked into his skin. You scratched at the design lightly, and Harry leaned forward, pressing another short yet passionate kiss to your lips.

“I’ve not got a rubber on me,” he told you.

You shook your head, “Don’t need it. Please, just—”

“Okay, okay,” Harry soothed you before you could begin pleading with him again. He pressed his forehead to yours, your noses brushing gently.

“Need to feel you,” he grunted, and you thought you sensed a hint of hysteria in his voice. He reached down, aligning his cock with your opening and pushing inside at a painfully slow pace. You threw your head back at the sensation of him filling you to the brim, your walls stretching around him and pulsing to accommodate the intrusion.

“F-fuck,” Harry breathed, stilling once he was fully sheathed within you. You shifted, moving so that you could wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper inside of you. You both groaned at the alteration, Harry pressing his face into your hair and you kissing his jugular, nuzzling against him as you adjusted to having him inside of you for the first time in a few days.

“M-move,” you mumbled after a few long moments. Now that you were comfortable, the anguished feeling was back, demanding that he make you feel it. You wanted to be sore.

Harry obeyed, placing his hands on your hips and slowly pulling back. You exhaled, blinking rapidly as he did so, your walls squeezing down on nothing. He continued until the head of his cock was the only part of him still hidden within you. You looked up at him with parted lips, but before you could speak, he was driving back into you, rocking your body backwards and making you cry out.

“My God!” you squeaked. Harry inhaled sharply, slowly grinding his hips inside of you. You looped your arms around his neck, your fingers disappearing into his short, curly hair. You pressed your lips against his shoulder, trying to keep in any sounds that were crawling up your throat.

“Fucking good,” Harry was mumbling fiercely into your ear. “You feel…so fuckin’ good, pet. Got—,” he broke off into a gasp, “—got real tight for a second there.”

“C-can,” you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut, “I can feel you, Harry, I can feel you.”

“’S kind of the point, love,” Harry choked out a laugh, only to cut himself off with a heaving breath a moment later. You ran your fingers through his hair, reflexively grabbing a fistful and yanking when he adjusted your position. He gripped your thighs, hands travelling down to the crook of your knees and pulling them higher up on his waist. You mewled when he pumped back inside, immediately hitting that same spot that his fingers had teased not long ago.

“Is it good?” you whispered, “Is it good for you?”

Harry let out a breathless laugh. “It’s—fuck—it’s perfect, love. You’re perfect. Squeezing me so well, I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Then cum,” you said, “I wanna feel it.”

Harry shook his head. “Not before you. You know that.”

“Please,” you whimpered, “Harry, please. Wanna—wanna feel it inside of me. I wanna—”

You broke off, pursing your lips. Harry seemed to sense that you were holding back, because he pulled away, coaxing you to look at him. “What is it, love? Tell me.”

You looked down at his chest, not wanting to meet his eyes. The words seemed so foreign and taboo on your tongue, but they left a sweet taste that you craved. You could only imagine Harry’s reaction, and it was something you were dying to witness. You blinked, pressing a kiss to his chin before meeting his gaze.

“I wanna feel it drip out of me.”

For a moment, the only sounds that could be heard were the slapping of skin and the shakiness of breaths. Harry stared at you, processing your words, his green eyes wide with shock. And then—

“Oh, fuck!”

He slumped against you, his palms smacking against the counter to keep himself standing. You watched in awe as his eyes closed, eyebrows lifting in pure euphoria. His nose twitched, lips parting perfectly. It was then that you felt the first twitch of his cock, the first spurt of come painting your walls. Harry rode out his high, the veins in his neck pulsing and his lips moulding around soundless curses. He leaned into you, and you kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his nose.

“I—,” his voice was thick, eyes remaining closed as he fought to catch his breath, “I fuckin’…love you.”

“I love you,” you whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. His eyes fluttered open slowly, and he blinked languidly, as though he was trying to regain his bearings. When he saw you, something flashed in his irises, and he shakily pushed himself up, swallowing heavily.

“You gotta cum,” he told you. You opened your mouth to protest, but then his thumb was back on your clit, and the tight knot in your stomach exploded.

You shuddered, your toes curling and your body twitching as pleasure splintered through you. You tipped your head back, ankles locking together behind Harry as your vision blurred over and your fingers dug into his biceps. Harry pressed himself against you, murmurs of good girl, my good girl and doing so well for me, pet reaching your ears.

“You—,” you began, blinking slowly after a few quiet moments, “—you look so good.”

~*~

“Class, listen up, we have a new student joining us today!” Ashton looked up quickly from his coloring book to pay attention to his teacher. And when he did, he was pleasantly surprised to see the girl who had just moved into the house next door to him and his mother. He remembered that you were just about his age, so it made sense that the two of you would be in the same preschool class. What was your name again?

“This is Y/N, and this is her first day here, so I want you to all be nice to her and make her feel welcome,” his teacher explained. When you looked up and noticed Ashton, a small smile spread across your face. Ashton smiled back and gave you a tiny wave.

“Y/N, you sit down at the coloring station next to Ashton, alright?” the teacher asked you. You nodded and made your way over to where Ashton was.

“Hi Y/N!” Ashton smiled, as sunny and happy as could be.

“Hi Ashton,” you replied softly, picking up a pink marker and starting to draw.

“Whatcha drawing?” he asked, always curious about what other people were doing.

“A family,” you explained. “See? This is the baby and this is the daddy and this is the mumma.”

“That’s cool!” Ashton grinned. “I’m drawing a dinosaur,” he said as he turned back to his artwork. “Or it might be a dragon, I don’t know yet. I want it to breathe fire. Do you think dinosaurs can-”

He stopped talking the minute he saw the tears on your face. “Y/N? Are you crying?”

You stammered out, “Back home, Mommy got to come in and do school with me, but here she doesn’t get to. I have to be a big girl and be by myself but I don’t like to be by myself.”

“Oh,” Ashton said. “I’m really sorry.”

You sniffled. “I really miss her.”

Ashton was silent, trying to think of some way to comfort this newfound friend. Then, he remembered something that his mother had said to him on his first day of school when he was feeling upset.

“Whenever I’m said, my mumma tells me to squeeze her hand so hard it hurts.”

You looked up at him, eyes shining with tears. “Why does she do that?”

“She says that’s how you remember that the person whose hand you’re holding is always with you. And it always works for me.” Ashton extended his hand to you. “Do you wanna?”

Your eyes went from Ashton’s hand back to Ashton’s face. “Okay, Ashton,” you scooted closer to him and placed your hand in his.

“Okay. Now you have to squeeze my hand so hard it hurts,” he reminded you.

“Squeeze your hand so hard it hurts,” you repeated. You looked at him worriedly. “But I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re my friend.”

Ashton shrugged. “It’s the good kind of hurt. I don’t mind.”

You gulped. “Okay,” you murmured, and you squeezed Ashton’s hand as tight as you could.

And Ashton was right: it was the good kind of hurt. It worked just as well as when his mother did it. And when you were smiling again and let go of each other’s hands, Ashton had the feeling that he wanted to be the person who would always squeeze your hand when you were upset.

****************

You and Ashton huddled close together in the cold, lying on your backs and staring up at the dark sky. It was the very end of your twelfth birthday and you decided that Ashton had done so much for you that day (getting everyone in class to sing “Happy Birthday” to you, helping your parents plan your surprise birthday party and keeping it a secret from you), he deserved to have a break outside with you.

“Did you have a good birthday?” Ashton smiled down at you.

“Mmhmm!” you grinned, still a little bit hopped up on sugar. “It was such a great party, and it was all down to you. You’re the best, Ash.” You sighed happily and said, “The stars look beautiful tonight, don’t they?” into the night.

“Yeah,” Ashton said softly. “They do.”

You looked up at him and asked, “You okay? You just seem kind of… far away right now.”

Ashton shook his head. “I’m alright, I guess.”

“You guess?”

Ashton let out a breath of air. “It’s just…  Everything seems really hard all of a sudden. School’s kicking my ass, and swimming’s getting to be a lot, plus I’ve got to take care of Lauren and Harry.” He paused for a second before adding, “I never feel like I’m doing enough. No matter how hard I try, I’m never going to be enough. For anybody.”

You sat up abruptly, pulling Ashton up with you. “Don’t you dare say anything like that ever again,” you snapped. “Ashton, you are more than enough. You’re so smart, and so good in school. Swimming’s tough for anybody, let alone someone who’s as good at it as you. And Lauren and Harry? You’re the best older brother they could have ever asked for. You’re always looking after other people and making sure they’re okay. Maybe you should start looking after yourself.”

Ashton’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “Y/N…” he tried to speak, tried to tell you how much your words meant to him, how happy he was that you were in his life. But he didn’t know what it was; maybe the words were too big and too scary, maybe he was so young that he didn’t know what they really meant yet. Whatever the reason, instead of telling you that he loved you, he settled on, “You’re my best friend.”

You smiled tenderly at him and brought him into you for a hug. “You’re mine too,” you reminded him as he buried his face in your sweater. Your heart broke when you felt his tears on your shoulder, and you whispered, “No, no,” when Ashton hurriedly pulled away and swiped at his eyes angrily, not wanting you to see him in that state.

“Hey,” you nudged him. “It's okay. You watch me cry all the time.”

Ashton shrugged, still trying to hide his face from you. “I don't know, it's different.” He let out a breath, his tears subsiding. “You're not supposed to see me cry.”

You scoffed. “That’s, like, the hallmark of being best friends. You have to watch each other cry, not just one watch the other cry. It’s in the Best Friend Code.”

Now, Ashton let out a genuine laugh, and it wasn’t until then that you realized that his laugh was one of your favorite sounds in the whole world. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he confessed. “You can always make me feel better.”

He turned his head back to look at you, cheeks ruddy from crying. “Thanks, Y/N,” he said quietly.

You simply nodded, letting silence fall between you once more. You knew how Ashton was; he hated seeming like he needed help, he didn’t want to be a burden to anybody. But when he was with you, he could always let his guard down. The front he put up for everybody else didn’t fly with you. You always could tell when he was hurting, and you always knew exactly how to make him feel better.

The two of you locked eyes, and you smiled, offering your hand to him. “Squeeze my hand so hard it hurts,” you gently instructed him.

Ashton smiled back and did so. “Hey,” he nudged you after you broke away. “I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, your heart filling with a warmth that you didn’t quite recognize. “And I’ll always be here for you. Doesn’t matter what you do; you’re stuck with me for life, Irwin.”

And as Ashton laughed again, and you couldn’t help but think about how right it felt to be holding Ashton’s hand in yours… and how maybe you didn’t want to be just his best friend anymore.

****************

There was no need for the airport to be so cold. Ashton drew his sweatshirt around him, trying to block out the industrial air… and maybe the reality that he was leaving the only home he’d ever known.

When he and the boys had gotten the word that One Direction wanted them to be their opening act for their Take Me Home tour, Ashton knew it was an opportunity that was too important to pass up. Everything he and the other boys had wanted their entire lives was just waiting for them to reach out and grab.

But that opportunity had an unintended consequence: they had to live in London full-time to rehearse. And that meant leaving his family, his friends, and (worse of all) you. He knew that, since he had graduated, he would have had to leave home anyway: he had been prepared to say goodbye to his mom, and his brother and sister. But you… Ashton never thought he would have to live without you.

And watching the pain on your face as the intercom said, “Gate B5 is now boarding its passengers for flight 794 non-stop to London,” made him feel sick to his stomach. His mother and siblings had said goodbye to him when they dropped him off at the airport; Lauren and Harry were too emotional to deal with it any further. So, aside from the other boys’ families, you were it for him. His last link with home.

You finally cleared your throat. “That’s, um… that’s you, I guess.”

Ashton nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

You stood in silence, just drinking each other in for a moment.

And then, it was like a floodgate had opened. Ashton swept you into his arms, holding you so close to him you thought the two of you would eventually melt into one being. “I’ll call you all the time,” he promised. “And text you, and we can FaceTime whenever you like, I don’t give a shit about the time difference-”

“Ashton,” you laughed to disguise your voice cracking due to your tears. “Honey, you’re rambling.”

Ashton laughed along with you, and only pulled away a little bit so he could smooth a bit of hair out of your face. “Sorry,” he murmured, leaving his hand cupping your cheek, and resting his thumb gently against your bottom lip. Although the two of you had only officially started dating six months ago, Ashton knew that you were the love of his life. He had known since he was twelve. You were everything to him. Trying to live without you was going to be the hardest thing he would ever have to do. And he vowed that the moment he could, he would get out of England and come home, come back to you.

It was only when he saw the tears streaming down your face that he realized he had actually said all of that out loud.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, reaching out and touching his face. “How am I going to make it without you?”

Ashton took his hand away from your face, and interlocked it with yours. “Squeeze my hand so hard it hurts,” he reminded you.

You gave a small smile, and did as he said, using your hand that was still on his face to pull him in for a kiss. All the love that the two of you had for each other flowed between you, speaking the words that you couldn't.

When you finally broke away, you pressed a kiss to the hand that was squeezing yours. “I’m yours forever,” you murmured.

Ashton let out a breath, feeling his heart break. “And I’m yours,” he vowed, kissing your lips once more and staying there until he saw the clock. “I have to go now,” he said softly, his pain just barely being kept beneath the surface.

You nodded, finally breaking your hand away from his. Ashton smirked and said, “Ouch, my hand hurts now.”

You giggled in spite of yourself and said, “That’s the point, remember? I didn’t make this up, Annmarie did.”

Ashton let out a laugh as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, she did.” He took in your frame one last time, trying to memorize every peak and valley of your body before he left you for god-knows-how-long. “Bye, Y/N,” was all he could say.

“Bye Ashton,” you smiled sadly, turning away quickly, so you could make your way home as quickly as possible.

It almost felt like you were walking away in slow motion, dragging Ashton’s heart behind you as you went.

Suddenly, Ashton felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Calum, concern filling his eyes. “C’mon, buddy, we’ve got to go.”

Ashton nodded, allowing Calum to put his arm around him as he and the others made their way onto the plane.

It was the middle of the flight, the plane nearly invisible in the dark blue night, when Ashton finally remembered. Y/N had given him something in the airport, something that he was only meant to open when he was up in the air, far from home.

Ashton rifled through his backpack and pulled it out. Tearing at the wrapping paper, he found a scrapbook with just one word scrawled across the top in purple Sharpie: “Us”.

Inside, Ashton found thousands of photos, letters, and old mementos from every single moment of your relationship. Trick-or-treating when you were little, your twelfth birthday party when Ashton realized he loved you, silly little Polaroids from when you were bored around his house… it was all there. Everything, even things he thought you had forgotten.

And as Ashton read the note stuck in the middle of the book saying, “Today’s a new beginning for you! I’m so proud of you, and I love you more than anything,” he saw that the pages after that note were all empty. And something deep inside of him began to hurt.

****************

Panting, you flopped back onto the bed, a sheen of sweat covering your chest. It took you a few moments to get your breathing rate back to normal, but once you did, you turned to face your… well, if you were being completely honest, you weren’t sure what the two of you were anymore. All you knew was that the sight next to you was a sight you had longed for, a sight that had left you aching and wanting him back for far too long. And now, after a long night of talking and too many beers… it had happened.

Ashton’s face was the color of a rose, his chest heaving, and his hair was matted to his forehead. His lips were parted, his eyes still crackling with the intense passion of the moments before.

“You good?” you laughed softly, still trying to get your feet back on the ground.

Ashton bit his lip. “That was… different,” he finally said.

“Oh, the magic words every girl wants to hear after sex. ‘Different’.” You rolled over on your side to face Ashton completely, taking in his expression. He looked like he was trying to solve the physics equation for landing on the moon. “What’s on your mind?”

He shook his head. “I thought I had finally gotten over you,” he mumbled, more to himself to anyone else.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Ashton turned away from you and stood up, putting on his glasses and a pair of sweatpants and beginning to pace around the room. Finally, he stood at the foot of your bed and focused his eyes completely on you. “We’re not together anymore.”

“That’s accurate,” you said, subtly pulling the blanket up to cover yourself.

“We haven’t been for years.”

“Right.” You trailed off at the memory of when the two of you called it off. It had been when he’d gotten back from the first One Direction tour; with his life changing so drastically, you wanted him to be free to live his life without any distractions from back home. It was the biggest lie you had ever told, but Ashton had went along with it to make you happy; you hadn’t wanted to be the thing standing between Ashton and his dreams.

The two of you had still stayed friends, though. You were too important to each other to just cut yourselves out of the other’s life entirely. But there had always been that tension between you that hadn’t been there before; a sense of unfinished business, of things left unsaid when you’d parted. Well, tonight had certainly taken care of that.  

Ashton drank you in, the sight of you in his bed seeming so ridiculously perfect that he wondered why the hell he hadn’t tried harder to make it happen before. “But we just had sex.”

“Where are you going with this, Ashton?” you asked, not unkindly. What had just happened was big for you too; you didn’t want him to think that it didn’t matter to you.

“Well, I’m….. what does it mean? What is this? Are we back together again? Was this goodbye sex? What just happened?”

You reached out to him. “Come back to bed, you’re making yourself nervous.”

Ashton bit his lip and nodded, crawling back onto the bed and under the covers, keeping those eyes you loved so much focused on you.

You took a breath. “What do you want this to be?” you asked him point-blank. “Because I will be okay with anything as long as you’re happy,” you confessed.

Ashton swallowed. “I don’t want you to just go along with what I want because you think it’s going to make me happy. That’s not how we work.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How do we work exactly?”

“We’re honest with each other. When nobody else knows how we really feel, the other one does.” Ashton pushed his hair out of his face, his newly cropped golden locks falling back into his eyes. “So tell me the truth, Y/N. Just tell me the truth.”

You gulped. “I…” You could feel your head screaming at you to just SAY IT. Tell him that you love him! Tell him how that lie was the worst mistake you had ever made! For the love of God, just SAY SOMETHING!

“I love you, Ashton. I’ve always loved you, and I’ve never stopped, not for a single moment. And I know that you’ve probably moved on, and you could have a girl who’s so much prettier, and smarter, and just better than me, but… whatever it is that souls are made of, yours and mine are the same.”

Ashton looked at you quizzically for a second, but then his lips curved into a smirk. “Isn’t that from Wuthering Heights? That bit about our souls being the same?”

You paused. “Fuck, it is, isn’t it?”

Ashton chuckled as you buried your face in the pillowcase and groaned. “Hey, I think it’s really romantic!” he assured you gently. The feeling of the rough pad of his thumb running down your cheek made you turn your head to face Ashton’s again. He looked serious, like he wanted you to know he meant what he was about to say next. “You remember what she says next?”

“Not really,” you confessed. “I only remembered the one bit.”

Ashton kept his hand on your cheek and said, “My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. I am Heathcliff - he's always, always in my mind - not as a pleasure, but as my own being.”

You felt your heart stop. The words sounded so natural coming from Ashton that it almost made you want to cry. “You mean that,” you smiled, stating it as a fact rather than questioning his devotion.

Ashton nodded and ran his hand through your hair. “I mean that. You are the love of my life, Y/N. And all I want to do is be with you. No more running away, no more being stupid. Because you’re it, gorgeous. You’re everything to me.”

“You’re everything to me, too,” you confessed. You took his hand away and placed it on your lips. You pressed soft, sweet kisses to the pads of each of the fingers as you told him, “I love you forever. And I don’t ever want to live without you again.”

 “You never will,” Ashton said solemnly, leaning forward to kiss your nose. “My Y/N,” he whispered.

You interlocked your fingers with Ashton’s and smiled. “Squeeze my hand so hard it hurts,” you prompted him.

Ashton chuckled softly and did so. “Forever,” he grinned, untangling your fingers and pulling you close to him.

“Forever,” you repeated as you nuzzled into him, letting the warmth of his body and the smell of his cologne cloud your senses.

And as Ashton’s contented hums slowly turned to peaceful snores, you fell asleep remembering his promise of forever. And you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was it: this was exactly where you wanted to be.

****************

Ashton hadn’t even known this girl for a full day, and she’d already stolen his heart away. He never thought he could love any person more than he loved you, but Daisy had come blazing out of nowhere and shown him that that was impossible. He looked down at her, sleeping in his arms, and wondered how he ever thought he could have known the meaning of the word “love” before he met her.

Suddenly, Daisy stirred, slowly coming out of her sleep. She looked up at Ashton with the eyes that had just about knocked Ashton off his feet when he saw her for the first time.

“Hi sweet girl,” Ashton smiled, his voice raspy after coaching you through nearly fifteen hours of labor. “How’s the best daughter in the whole wide world doing today?”

You had discovered you were pregnant the morning after yours and Ashton’s wedding (you would have to endure endless teasing from the rest of 5SOS about Ashton and his “strong swimmers” for the rest of your lives). Ashton had been scared at first, but as time had gone by, he became elated. You were going to be parents, you were going to have a little person of your very own to take care of. And now that she was here… Ashton felt whole, and so ridiculously happy.

Just then, he heard you push yourself up in bed and murmur, “Hey Irwin, she’s my daughter too.”

Ashton smirked and stood up, cradling Daisy’s little head in his arms. “I know that, Mrs. Irwin,” he teased back, still not totally used to the fact that you really were his wife now. “But we wanted to give you a little break. After all, Daisy’s kept you very busy for the past nine months, hasn’t she?”

You giggled softly and reached out your arms to take Daisy back. Your hair was a tangled mess, and your eyes were bloodshot with dark circles underneath. But Ashton thought you had never looked more beautiful.

Daisy gurgled and fussed for only a moment as she settled down into your arms, with you cooing down at her the whole time.

Ashton placed a loving kiss to the top of your head, and you scooched over to make some sort of room for him in the hospital bed. “She looks like you,” Ashton murmured, happiness in his voice.

“No, she’s beautiful; she looks just like you,” you gently disagreed. You took her eyes away from Daisy to look at Ashton for a moment.

Ashton locked eyes with you and beamed. “I can’t believe we’re here,” he breathed before bringing you in for a kiss that carried with it all the love he had in his soul.

Later that day, when yours and Ashton’s family, Calum, Luke, Michael and even John Feldmann and a few of the other songwriters the boys were working with had come and gone, you lay in your bed as Ashton was in the other corner of the room, looking out the window and humming an old lullaby with Daisy nestled into his chest. You thought about what Ashton had said earlier, about not believing the two of you had gotten here. But you knew… you always had. You knew, somehow, that you and Ashton were meant to be. Through all the trials and tribulations, ups and downs, breakups, makeups and everything in between, this was where you were always meant to be: in a hospital room, together, singing to your newborn baby.

“Ashton?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, what is it?” Ashton asked, making his way over to the bed.

“Can I have her again?”

Ashton nodded, handing Daisy back down to you. You looked down at their new daughter, this tiny human being that had so much of you and the man you loved in her. “Hi my baby,” you hummed as Daisy looked back up at you. “I have something important to teach you.”

Gingerly, you took her arm out from under Daisy’s tiny body and brought your finger up to her hand. “Whenever you feel scared, or alone or afraid, I want you to squeeze mine or Daddy’s finger so hard that it hurts. When you’re older,” you paused, trying to gather herself at the thought that this tiny baby would be grown before you and Ashton were ready, “you’ll squeeze our hands. That way, you’ll know that we’re always with you. And we’ll never let you go.”