One Direction at Forty Thousand Feet

One Direction fanfic.
Ever wondered what would happen if the boys of one direction got their hands on movellas?
Well here is a short fanfiction telling you just that.


19. The Last Fan-fiction

            The throngs of teenage girls pressed their faces against the polished glass of the terminal. Only a few guards stood between them and the group of five boys huddled together on the other side of the glass. A narrow path led them from the door to the limousine.

            “They’re all bloody bonkers,” Hairgel whispered under his breath. “All of them.”

            They hesitated to step outside the air-conditioned indoors and into the midst of their so-called fans. Curly was biting his nails, the Leprechaun anxiously looking back and forth, deciding whether to go ahead or run for it. As bad as London was, New York wasn’t much better. America was one of their biggest fan-bases. Seeing the thousand girls standing, screaming their names, normally they would’ve smiled.

            “Do you think any of them wrote one of those stories?” Louis whispered.

            It was obvious, considering the number of girls, at least one of them had. If it wasn’t on Movellas, it was in their diary. Curly let out a breath and took a slow step towards the doors.

            “MARRY ME HARRY!!!!!!!” a shrill voice screamed. He immediately fell back, landing into the arms of the Leprechaun.

            “I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES!!!!!”

            Curly’s mind automatically thought of the rape story in which he had knocked up a thirteen year-old. He fought back the urge to puke and looked back at his bandmates. Each of them had the same looks of horror on their faces. He wanted to go back to the plane. The stories were bad, but seeing the potential writers was much worse.

            “I can’t go out there,” Curly said out loud, taking hesitant steps backwards. “Come on guys, there has to be a back entrance or something.”

            “Sir?” A man in a black suit and glasses walked up to them. “Your manager’s in the car. He insists that you interact with the fans outside, for ten minutes before we depart for the hotel.”

            “Interact?” Interaction was the last thing on their mind. All of them wanted to escape, to somewhere far away where no one listened to pop music. “No thanks, mate. We just want to relax. Is there a back door or anything?”

            “Your manager-”

            Curly smiled at the man dryly. Of course, there was no arguing with the manager or the record people. He stepped forwards, and was surrounded by the flashing of cameras, outstretched hands, and shrill screaming voices. He tried to smile, forcing the bile back down his throat. The leprechaun behind him flinched every time someone’s fingertips touched him.

            Some of them ran their fingers through his hair. He forced himself to pause and pose for pictures, to sign pictures with a smile plastered onto his face. It was different, when he thought about the stories they might’ve written. It was harder to be adore his fans when he saw the extremism of their adoration for the band.

            Hairgel looked behind them and saw the two girls and the boy talking amongst themselves. He called towards the hot one, Holly. She responded with her finger. He smiled. Playing hard to get, it was hot. The girl next to her was scrawling something on a piece of paper, the one in the blue shirt. Her name, was something, she wasn’t that hot, so he didn’t remember. Mimi or something…

            While he stared she ran over to him and pressed a piece of paper into his hand.

            “The latest fan-fiction, one you have to check out,” she said, with sincerity written all over her face. “Trust me, you’ll like this one.”

            Before he could ask for Holly’s number, the black-haired ran off towards her friends. He rushed through the crowds of fan-girls and slid into the limo. Curly grabbed the piece of paper from Zayn’s hands. He didn’t know whether Mina had been sarcastic. There were, in his opinion, no fan-fictions that he would enjoy.

            “One Direction at Forty Thousand Feet,” Leprechaun read over his shoulder. “Well, it’s not ‘Harry’s Baby’, so why don’t we check it out?”

            “No way, mate,” Louis insisted. “No more fan-fictions, never again. Could you imagine what’d happen if Eleanor saw these?”

            “It’ll be the last one,” Liam assured him. “Besides, the title’s interesting.”

            “It’s probably about us joining the Mile High Club with some girl that we kidnapped, or a homeless girl that we fell in love with.”

            “Last one?” Louis asked.

            “Last one ever. One Direction at Forty Thousand Feet then,” Curly said, getting his phone out.

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