Bad Luck Isn't Always So Bad (One Direction fanfic)

Blythe had an average life up until the day she left her mother and her childhood home to move in with an uncle she only recently discovered she had. But when that day goes from bad to worse and she misses her flight, five certain boys happen to enter her life and change it completely.


1. Chapter 1: Bad Luck

"Today's the day!" My mum yips, her familiar whiny voice ten times more excited than I am feeling. I've been dreading this very day for three months now, and the fact that it was only noon and has already been a rather cruddy day makes me feel even worse. I fake a smile and, while my mum turned to shove something into one of my bags, slip in my room for what might be the last time, ever. This thought saddens me, and I slump down into the worn old beanbag sitting sloppily in the corner to reminisce. So many memories here.., I think glumly as I glance around the familiar space. My eyes land on a couple of blue scribbles on the wall across from me, and I immediately replay that day years ago, when I had first discovered how to color and decide to add a "splash" of color to everything in sight. I sigh, suddenly realizing how much has changed since then and how badly I would miss this place.

After a while, I stand up and take one more glance around before heading towards the door, where I nearly faceplant into my mother. "Oh, oops!," she exclaims, "I was just coming in to tell you that it almost time to leave so you can catch your flight in time to make it to Robert's. Are you ready?" I nod.

"I'm ready." I answer as I slide around her and into the hall.


We arrive at the airport thirty minutes before my flight is scheduled to leave. As we pull to a stop in front of the doors, both of our faces are already wet with tears, despite her usual cheeriness and my lack of showing emotion. Ever since Dad died, my mum and I were never apart for more than a few hours, so my moving away for the summer is pretty devastating for the both of us. After a heartfelt and lengthy goodbye from her, and a shorter, less dramatic one from me, I carefully exit the car, grab my luggage from the boot, and silently watch her car pull away. I allow one more tear to fall before wiping my face with the cuff of my sleeve and entering the glass doors.

Compared to the relative quiet of the outside, the noisy inside of the airport makes me almost wish I was deaf. I shake my head as if trying to knock the sound out --to no avail, of course-- and start walking towards customs. Whilst I walk, I allow myself to wonder about my uncle, if I could get along with him, this upcoming summer in general. As I ponder these things, gradually I was coming closer to my destination. Almost to the desk I'm headed for, a couple of lads dash out in front of me so quickly I have no time to dodge them. Before I know it, I'm sprawled out on the tile floor, surrounded by the whole contents of the smaller of my two bags.

"Shit," I grumble angrily as I scramble to gather my things, my face getting hotter due to both embarrassment and anger. It's a good thing this isn't anything too personal, I think, though I'm frantically trying to gather my stuff before anybody sees anything. My bag is almost full with more than half my things still on the ground, and I'm pushing down what's already been put away to make more room when I hear a voice seemingly directed towards me.

"Need some help, love?" I glance up to see a group of five guys that couldn't be much older than I, gathered around my little destruction zone. "Um, actually-" I begin, only to stop mid-sentence when a boy with messy-but-somehow-cute, curly hair takes my bag from my hands while the rest start to pick up my what remains of my stuff. The boys finish in no more than two minutes, leaving me amazed at their speed and kindness. Curly Hair hands me my bag, and I take it gratefully.

"Thank you, but there was really no need. I could have done it myself," I say, glancing quickly at each of their faces, which seem oddly familiar. "It was no problem," the only blond one of the five speaks first, and I recognize his accent as Irish. The other four say something along the same lines, and all give me equally dazzling smiles. I feel my cheeks blush and then notice the time on my watch. "Jesus," I mutter, looking up at the boys again, "I've got to go; my flight to Dublin leaves in five minutes, and I haven't even passed through Customs." I try to hide the worry in my voice, but I hopelessly fail. All five boys' expressions change at once, and they all seem to think the same thing.

"Dublin? That's where we're headed! Why don't join us on our jet?" Says the one with messy curls.

"Jet? You're aren't taking the public plane?" I ask, confused now. The whole group shake their heads.

"Of course not! I mean, we love our fans, but a four-hour-" The curly-haired one began, only to be interrupted by the blond.

"Harry, mate, I don't think she knows who we are." He's right; though their faces look familiar, I don't know who they are. I shake my head to confirm.

"Oh!" Curly Hair--or, Harry, I mean-- says, "Well, love, we're One Direction!"


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