Collection of Prompt-Fics

With over twenty-seven million followers on Insta and forty-one on Twitter, there is absolutely no denying Niall Horan is famous and in high demand. He was part of one of the world’s biggest boy-bands and, following the hiatus, put out a record that showed everybody he isn’t just a pretty face. But pretty he truly is. Now he no longer bleaches his hair, the dark brunet only accentuates the crystal of his blue eyes. Add on kissable lips and a body that is he’s worked hard to fill out, and... Well, it is no wonder Joy Chase fell for him in the first place.

She and Niall met long before he ever went solo. It was the thing of Wattpad fanfics—no, not the ones where her mother sells her to One Direction—but of a friendship born in unlikely places. A famous person befriending someone decidedly not famous. Almost a ‘prince and a pauper’ type.

She’d been whiling away the hours with browsing the shelves at a bookstore, three hundred miles from home and alone since her friends went out to dinner. She filled up too much on the drive, and her stomach already regretted all the chocolate bars.

She was so engrossed in reading the titles that she hadn’t paid attention to where she was going. All she knew was she walked directly into someone and knocked them to the floor. Only then did she realise she was no longer one of only three people in the shop. It pained her to do so, but she let the books in her arms tumble to the floor so she could help the young man back to his feet.

He’d allowed her to embarrass herself by trying to haul him up before he gave any sort of assistance. She’d apologised even as she ducked down to pick up the books, and he laughed it off. She recognised the Irish accent. Of course she did. It was everywhere. His face was everywhere, with his bleached hair and braces-fixed smile and rosy cheeks.

He had more decency than she did: He helped pick up the books she’d dropped. If she was in his shoes, Joy would have berated him for knocking her on her ass and left him to clean up the mess alone. He’d introduced himself, looking the entire time as if he knew it wasn’t necessary, and Joy managed to squeak out her name.

Niall grinned. “I like it.”

Then he did something she didn’t expect. He struck up a conversation about the novels she planned to buy. Joy had fumbled over her answers until suddenly... It wasn’t awkward. They were laughing and chatting like old friends. She knew it had to come to an end—he had a concert to put on, and she had real life waiting to burst her bubble.

She still doesn’t know what made her give him her number, but Joy really, really loves her past self.

He’d texted at three in the morning a week later with nothing but a photo of lights blurring past a window. She’d sent back a warning that she’d beat him up if he ever woke her up that early again. He hadn’t heeded the warning. Soon enough, their message thread had over a thousand texts and Joy was quickly finding out who Niall truly was behind the boy-band exterior.

When Joy was halfway through her first year of university, she decided to change majors and transfer to a different school. Niall was the biggest supporter of her decision. He even offered up a room in his house for her so she didn’t have to pay for off-campus living. Scholarships only covered so much, and who was Joy to turn down a chance to get an education without breaking the bank?

And Joy still hasn’t left. She still shares a home with Niall and his childhood best friend, Mully. She helps where she can with the bills, but there’s only so much she can do. She makes up for it by being the one to cook most nights and buying groceries. Whenever Niall is home, they spend nights with legs entangled on the enormous couch. They ignore the film on TV while he tells her of the tour he’s just come home from.

The tours. God, the tours are amazing. Joy loves every second of travelling with Niall and his band. None of the others had questioned her presence the first time she joined for the tour, and by the end, she considered them brothers. Or, at the very least, her friends as well. Now everyone looks forward to when Joy rides along with them across the country—or world.

Joy always wonders why none of them say a word when she ends up in bed with Niall nearly every night of the tours. Nothing untoward ever happens; he just helps ease her homesickness. But it rarely ever looks appropriate to see her exiting his bunk or hotel room first thing in the mornings.

“M’ello?”

“Joy Anne Chase, why haven’t you called me before now?”

Joy stifles a groan and tugs a pillow over her face. “Mom. It’s not even five in the morning here.”

“I don’t care. You know you’re supposed to call your mother as soon as you get home from the tours. That was our agreement.”

It is. Joy had sworn her parents to call before she left, at the halfway mark, and the second her feet touched LA soil again. That was the only thing stopping Helen Chase from calling every day, multiple times a day. And Joy just broke the promise.

“I’m sorry, Ma. Really. We didn’t get home until two, and I just... I fell asleep on the couch taking off my shoes.” Joy raises one foot to glare at the sneaker she still wears. “I know I could have called on the drive from the airport, but Ma, I was only thinking of my nice, warm, comfy bed.”

Helen sighs, but Joy can hear the smile in her mother’s voice. It’s a running joke in the family that Joy will fall in love with anyone who has a comfortable mattress. “I suppose I can’t fault you for that. Okay. Call me when you wake up, all right? I wanna hear everything.”

Joy promises—and means it—then tosses her phone onto the coffee-table. Rolling over, she curls up on her side, presses her face into the back of the couch, and falls back to sleep. The real world can wait.

Joy is, thankfully, far less a zombie when she wakes again six hours later. She phoned her mother and told her all the details about the tour, and Joy listened to the story of her older brother’s latest screw-up. Thirty with no prospects for his future, the man continues to ruin his life with no regard to the consequences.

Joy is only grateful she is nothing like him. They came from the same stock, but she’s done more in her twenty-five years than he ever has.

She knows what’s coming before her mother even asks: “So how are things with Niall?”

“Still my best friend,” sighs Joy. Helen has had the ridiculous notion of Niall and Joy suddenly dating out of nowhere, and nothing Joy says will dissuade that hope. “He’s actually not here right now, which is weird. He usually never goes anywhere after getting home from tour.”

“Maybe he went to grab lunch. Joyful light of mine... When will you tell him?”

“Ma, there’s nothing to tell, I swear.”

“You’re the worst liar I know. Not because nobody believes you,” Helen says, “but because your lies are so believable, and all you do is hurt yourself.”

“No need to worry about me. I’m fine.”

Helen exhales sharply but doesn’t argue. It’s too familiar a disagreement—she pushes for Joy to tell Niall the truth, and Joy continues to deny there is anything there. Because there absolutely isn’t. Even if there was, Joy would never tell Niall. She’s allowed her secrets. If she had any.

The man has accidentally seen her naked in the shower, for God’s sake. Secrets and modesty aren’t really a thing anymore.

Joy pushes bubblegum-pink hair from her face then sighs when it falls right back into place. She puts the call on speaker and grabs the hairtie from her wrist, pulling her hair into a low ponytail. Silence echoes down the line. Joy is well aware that her mother is trying to find a different tactic to convince her daughter to change her mind.

It won’t work.

She knows Helen’s heart is in the right place. All she wants is for Joy to be happy. To represent her name. But Joy already is. Niall has been the most incredible friend since they met, and she refuses to change their dynamic. It will only ruin what they have now.

“I’m gonna go, Ma. Gotta call him and see where he is. Tell Dad I’m fine, and I love and miss you all.”

“I will, baby. I’m glad to hear you’re all right.”

“Always am, Mama.”

Joy hangs up and scrubs a hand over her face. The conversation went much as she expected, but still, it drained her of any energy she’s gained during her sleep. With a sigh, she finds Niall’s name in her contact list, tapping on Irish Ass, and listens to the ringing. He finally answers after the seventh trill and immediately starts apologising for not being home when she woke up.

It’s too domestic a thing. She laughs it off and tells him it’s fine, he’s allowed to be wherever he is without her permission. She isn’t his girlfriend, she thinks but doesn’t say. The thought sends her stomach churning. She doesn’t know why the thought doesn’t settle right. Joy isn’t about to question it, though.

Niall is her best friend, and she will never change that.

He comes home two hours later with McDonald’s and another apology in the form of her favourite milkshake.

They fall into the same routine as usual: He goes off and does his own thing, Joy gets back to work as an entertainment columnist, It isn’t much—and she absolutely loathes writing about celebrities, especially since she’s friends with a celebrity. But it’s a job she doesn’t need to be in an office for which makes going on tours so much easier. All she has to worry about are deadlines and time zones. She can’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

The months drag on. Niall starts his studio time between golf duties, and Helen continuously pesters Joy about telling him the truth. Even Melinda joins in via FaceTime calls. The other women don’t care one way or the other, as long as Joy stops talking about Niall every chance she gets. Joy hadn’t realised she talked about him so often until she no longer had much to talk about in general.

Melinda frowns and stares at Joy through the video connection, four months after the tour ended. “Joy Toy, c’mon. It’s me. Tell the truth. Niall still has no idea, does he?”

“I have—“ At Melinda’s brow-lift, Joy sighs and spins a pen on the coffee-table, her other hand twisting the end of her baby-blue ponytail. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Men,” mutters Melinda, rolling her eyes.

“In his defence, I haven’t exactly walked right up to him and said ‘Niall, I’m utterly in love with you’.”

“I’ll never understand why not.”

“Because if I do, I could make a fool of myself. Guess what I don’t want to do.”

“He could love you back.”

“He already loves me, Melly. Just...”

“Not the way you want. Girl, make yourself happy for once. Be selfish.”

“Not at the expense of my friendship.” Joy blows out a breath. “I better go. He should be back soon.”

“Listen to my advice, girl, or you’ll live a long, lonely life while he moves on without you.”

“Don’t remind me,” Joy mumbles as she ends the call.

Melinda’s right, of course she is. Watching Niall with girlfriends has always hurt, but it’s only gotten worse since Joy noticed that the friendship wasn’t nearly enough. She loves Niall as more than just best friends, and she knows he will never feel the same about her. She has to accept that. She has to learn to live with the fact he will find someone else he truly loves and wants to marry. And it won’t be her, because she’s too much of a coward.

It’s nothing, really. No special evening, just a normal night three weeks after the FaceTime chat with Melinda. Joy and Niall are only watching some mindless sitcom side-by-side. Despite the size of the couch, there is very little distance between them. There never is. They’re always touching in some fashion, even if they are sprawled across the cushions at opposite ends. His foot stays between hers then, and she keeps her ankles pressed to his.

Tonight is different. Something is different. Niall is focusing on the show less than usual, his knee bouncing and hands fidgeting. She’s just turned her head to ask if he’s all right when her words are stolen from her lungs. The kiss is clumsy, as if he’s too nervous to be suave. She freezes—just for a second. Just long enough for her brain to catch up. Then she kisses him back like she’s wanted to for so long. So damn long.

His breath ghosts across her cheek, and she tilts her head when his tongue drags across the seam of her lips. Joy exhales sharply but grants him entrance, lets him steal from her what she’s ached to give him. Her hand comes up to cradle his jaw, and he pushes closer. He wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her into his chest. Joy could die right now.

Warm fingers slide against her skin, travel up her belly beneath her shirt, and she gasps into the kiss as his hand covers her breast. As he presses against her until she lowers herself to lie on her back. Niall’s body blankets hers, and he settles between her thighs without breaking the kiss. Without pulling away. He rests his weight on one elbow, his free hand moving from her chest to the hem of her shorts. It’s too much, too fast.

“W—wait, Niall, wait.”

He pulls away, stilling instantly over her, and stares down at her with pupil-blown eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m not ready for that,” she whispers instead of admitting the truth. “I’m quite enjoying what we’re doing, make no mistake, but I don’t even know what’s going on. I’m just not ready.”

“No problem, love.” He presses his lips to hers, drags his kiss along her jaw. “Do you wanna talk about this?”

“It—it would be nice, yeah.”

“Then we can kiss some more?”

“Then we can kiss some more.”

He doesn’t move from on top of her even as he speaks. As he tells her he’s wanted to kiss her for too long, and now he’s finally gathered up the courage. “I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same. I’ve just…

“Joy, at some point, the line between friendship and more got blurred. I realised that while I loved you, I’d never recognised that I love you. That I’d never be satisfied with just friendship. I mean, I’d be happy enough if that’s all you’d give me. But I wanted more.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she murmurs, running a finger down the bridge of his nose.

“Like I said, I was afraid you didn’t want more than what we had, and I’ll have ruined everything.”

“Ni… You’re my best friend. You always will be, even if I had no romantic feelings for you.”

“But?” And damn it if he doesn’t look so adorably hopeful

“God, you’re gonna make me spell it out, aren’t you?” she groans before lifting her head to kiss him. “I love you, too. Both as my best friend and as… Well, as the man I love as more than that.”

“Back to kissing?” he asks with a roguish smirk.

“You better kiss me,” she says, giggling when he does as she’s commanded.

Heat coils in her gut with each brush of his lips, each stroke of his tongue against hers. He doesn’t reach for her shorts again—he’s respecting her boundaries while taking what she will let him steal from her. She wants him in a way she’s never wanted anyone else, but she told him part of the truth: She isn’t ready for that.

It isn’t only because this is the first time they’ve ever acknowledged their feelings for each other. This is their first kiss. But the real reason is far more complicated, and she knows if she admits it, he will want nothing to do with her.

Joy has been privy to his girlfriends leaving the house early in the morning in the same clothes they arrived in. She’s heard the moans and cries of his name, the bedframe hitting the wall between her room and his. She knows his sex life is very active where hers is the complete opposite. It has been for her entire life.

If he finds out she’s never been intimate with someone, he’ll find her disgusting. He will tell her he can’t be with someone who has no experience.

Joy wouldn’t be able to handle that.

It doesn’t stop the groan slipping between her lips as he rests more firmly over her. Or the way she arches into the scrape of his teeth on her throat. Or how she can feel him against her core through her shorts and his sweatpants. It doesn’t frighten her, the idea of him being so close. He’d never push her for more than she is ready for.

She hates that she’s leading him on like this, but she can’t stop.

There is no awkwardness the next morning. Things are different, though. Niall kisses her as he hands her a cup of coffee, and she presses her lips to his shoulder while he cooks breakfast. The eggs burn with their distraction, but neither care. They only keep sharing lazy kisses. Until the smoke detector goes off.

His new album gets released a month later, and a tour is planned shortly after that. Joy jumps on the chance to go with him. She’d never willingly choose to stay home, not when she’s grown accustomed to his kisses, the way his touch brands her skin even when he doesn’t push for more than the taste of her lips to his. Not when she’s finally gotten what she wanted for the last five years.

They’re in some hotel room, two months into the tour, and Joy pulls back, staring down at him. “I’ve a confession to make.”

“What is it?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

“I swear on everything I won’t get mad.” He even makes the same Boy Scout sign she always does. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I’ve never had sex before. And I know you enjoy sex, but I don’t know if I can do it because… Niall, the thought terrifies me. I’m pathetic, I know. Twenty-five years old and still a virgin, but—”

“But nothing,” he whispers. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Joy. If you’ve not found the right person, then you’ve not found the right person. Your lack of experience has no impact on your value. C’mere, love.”

Niall pulls her into his side, brushing his lips to her forehead. Joy blows out a breath and whispers, “I just—I heard you and all the girls you’ve taken to bed. I know you feel closer to your partner with intimacy. It’s your love language. I just don’t know…”

“What, if you’ll ever be ready to have sex with me?” He huffs out a quiet laugh. “We could go our entire lives without ever going to bed together, but it wouldn’t take away how much I love you, Joy. I’m always gonna love you.”

“I want to, though.”

“We don’t—”

“Niall?”

“Yes, petal?”

“Can you—Will you take me to bed?”

“If you truly want me to.”

“I do.” She pauses, buries her face into his chest. “Is it normal to be scared?”

“Your feelings are valid, darling, no matter how much you think otherwise.”

Niall’s hand trails along her back, and she exhales slowly. Despite his words, her stomach still tightens, breathing growing rapid. She really is about to do this. His fingers tug at her chin, nudging her face up, and Joy loses herself in the kiss. This is normal now. Hundreds of kisses have been shared between them over the last few months.

She only hates that this is happening in a hotel room instead of his bed at home. The bed she has slept in nearly every night since she moved in and had her first bout of homesickness. But she wants to try tonight, not wait until the tour is over.

Niall keeps his movements slow, steady, tender, and Joy closes her eyes as he covers her body with his. He whispers encouragement even while he trails kisses down her throat, his hands pulling the straps of her tank-top down her shoulders. Cold air hits the skin exposed, goosebumps rippling to life, and he huffs out a breath before kissing the hollow between her breasts

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are right now?” he murmurs into her skin. “Thank you for trusting me with this. I—I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

All Joy can do is nod at his words. Of course she trusts him. With everything she is, she has trusted Niall since they met in that bookstore so long ago. Back when he was Niall Horan of One Direction, not ‘Irish Ass’ that she’s loved so fiercely.

“I love you,” he breathes before pushing her tank-top up. She sits up long enough to help him pull it over her head, and she giggles when he tosses it to the side. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” And God, does she.

His mouth leaves a burning path on her skin as he kisses down her body, nipping gently at the soft flesh of her belly. She would be self-conscious—she’s been meaning to get back to the gym—but he stares at her as if she’s the only thing that exists in his world anymore. With a shuddering sigh, Joy lifts her hips allows him to tug her shorts down.

“Are you sure?” he asks, waiting until she nods to slip his fingertips beneath the band of her underwear “Tell me to stop whenever you want, love.”

“Please don’t?”

“Question or request?”

“Request.” She drags her gaze from the ceiling to his face. The bright blue of his eyes that’s so familiar, it settles the violent churning in her gut. “Please don’t stop.”

“Okay.”

Niall drapes one of her legs over his shoulder, and Joy clutches the comforter in her fists with the first broad stroke of his tongue against her. She’s not a prude—she never has been—but masturbating with a vibrator is nothing like this. Warm, wet, real, and she gasps aloud when he flicks his tongue against her clit.

A breathy ‘oh, God’ escapes her, and he chuckles before increasing the pace and pressure. One of her hands releases the blanket, buries itself in his hair, and she presses her foot harder into his back as he pushes his tongue into her before going back to the bundle of nerves.

His hand wraps around her thigh, holding her leg where it is, while the other reaches up to trail along her stomach. Her breast. Her breath hitches when her torso fills with that familiar tightening, much sooner than she has ever accomplished with a toy. Her head swims as she holds her breath, as she clings to his hair, as she moves her hips against the sensations he brings her.

As she dies over and over, only to be brought back to life with his love.

Niall doesn’t relent even after she cries out, and he works her through the crashing aftershocks. When she whimpers and tries to pull away, he gives one last lick to her. Sits back on his heels.

“How was that?”

“Oh, god, it was—It was perfect,” she pants, and he laughs quietly before clambering off the bed. “Where the Hell do you think you’re going?”

“Getting protection, love. Not gonna have your first time end in pregnancy.”

“Please no.”

He settles back on the bed moments later, a foil-wrapped package in hand and completely nude before her. Joy swallows thickly at the sight of his entire body on display. It’s... It’s so much to take in, and she doesn’t know where to look first.

She starts from his head—the messy waves of his hair from where she’d clung to him, the blue of his eyes overtaken by widened pupils, the soft smile on his lips as he watches her. Next come the column of his throat and broad chest covered in fine curls. She loves his chest hair. It’s always weirdly soft.

His torso meets his hips, his thighs, and Joy stares at his cock where it juts proudly from a well-trimmed nest of hair. The reddening tip glistens with pre-cum, and she wonders if she can even take it. She closes her eyes, exhaling shakily. She should tell him she’s changed her mind. She is only going to disappoint him if she fails.

But she wants to try. Niall is worth any discomfort, if only to give him something like this. If only to learn what it feels like to be completely in love with someone’s body, heart, and soul. So she opens her eyes and nods. She’s ready to try.

“If you want to stop,” he whispers, running a hand along her thigh, “just say the word. I don’t even need a reason, okay? Nothing happens tonight without your consent.”

Her words vanish as he slips the condom onto his dick, but he doesn’t move once he’s finished. He’s waiting for her acknowledgement, she realises, so she murmurs an acceptance of his words. If she wants to stop, all she has to do is tell him. She trusts him to keep his promise.

Niall wraps her legs around his waist, scooting closer, and leans down to kiss her. “Just try to relax, petal. I promise I’ll go slow.”

“I’m... I’m nervous.”

“Oh, love, I know. But I’ve got you.”

She grits her teeth against the pain, wondering why she decided to do this. It hurts, the first push of his cock into her, and she wasn’t ready. Niall stills, kissing her all the while, and slowly, the burning fades away. It comes in waves as he inches his way inside. He stops after every tiny thrust, and Joy will never be able to thank him enough for that.

She’s heard horror stories of her friends’ first times. It’s an enormous part of why she’s never wanted to have sex. Ursula hadn’t been able to walk the next day, her boyfriend was too rough. Mary bled from the size of her partner being too large and her insufficient preparation. Melinda was the only one without a painful experience, but she regretted it as soon as it was over. She wasn’t ready for it, she’d learnt.

Joy is. At least, she is as long as it’s with Niall.

“You feel amazing,” he whispers against her lips, and she realises with a start that his hips press to hers. He’s fully inside of her, filling her in ways she never imagined possible, and the pain is a dull ache. “God, thank you for this.”

Before she knows it, his hips are moving. He slides back, only a small fraction of an inch, then pushes back into her with a tenderness that brings tears to her eyes. He stills, asks if she’s okay.

“Don’t stop, please.”

“Joy—”

“I’m fine, Niall, I swear. Please, please keep going.”

She yanks him down for a kiss, to share breaths as he thrusts forward. It’s sloppy, too slow, but Joy has never felt anything more perfect. The care in his hands, the heat between them, the love in his kisses... It’s everything to her. The discomfort—even now—is worth it. He is worth it.

His thrusts speed up, and Joy’s head falls back as he pushes himself up. The angle changes, his cock hitting somewhere inside of that sends electricity along her spine. His thumb presses against her, rubs circles on her clit, and she can barely hold onto reality. The world spins in wild arcs around her, and she throws herself off the edge of insanity.

Niall groans as she clenches around him, and she moans out his name when the build-up begins again. It’s slow, hot, bleeding through her veins as sticky sweet molasses. It’s almost painful, the way he’s dragging her toward another orgasm already. She clings to the pain, the pleasure, and lets herself feel everything. The love she holds for him is nothing compared to the world he’s giving her now.

Everything is changing between them—everything she is will never be the same. Joy doesn’t want to be the same. She wants to hold onto this moment for the rest of her life. These stolen minutes, hours, eons stretching across galaxies.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“Please,” she nearly sobs, “don’t stop. Right there, yes, Niall.”

It rips through her, agonising and so wonderful at the same time. The fire burns her clean to ashes, every atom of her being altered by the home she’s found in him. By the flames razing her to her core and rebuilding her into something spectacular. She’s his phoenix burning to life once more, becoming his in a way she never would be otherwise.

Niall grips her thighs tightly, fingernails digging into her skin, and he crashes their lips together. Joy can feel the pulsing as he spills his release. As the union they’ve forget meets its end. Its beginning. As she recognises that she will forever be his, even if they break up. No one else could ever replace him.

He finally pulls out after a long minute during which he breathes heavily against her lips. Joy winces as he slips free, grimaces as the pleasure gives way to the pain it had pushed from her mind. She doesn’t regret it like Melinda did. Joy only regrets waiting so long.

“That was amazing,” she murmurs once he’s cleaned them up, climbed back onto the bed beside her. A tear slips down her cheek. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head before kissing her cheek, the tip of her nose, her lips. “No, love. Thank you. You trusted me with something special.”

“I’m... I’m glad I did.”

“So am I,” he whispers, pulling her into his chest. “I love you, Joy Anne.”

“I love you, too.”

She uses the toilet at his suggestion then rushes back to his side. She doesn’t want to be away from him any longer than necessary. Niall has given her so much, and he may never know just how deeply he runs in her blood. He reaches over, turning off the bedside lamp, then lets her curl against him. Joy presses her lips to his chest, ignores the way the chain around his throat digs in against her mouth.

She knows she will hurt worse in the morning, but for tonight, she relishes it. It is evidence that she has changed into something far greater than she could ever have been alone.