S.O.S. ✘ One Direction

19: Thieves & Yards

A/N BUT DID YOU GUYS SEE THE VIDEO OF ZAYN DISSING THAT GUY

edit: okay no one saw it so i posted it on my message board it's hilarious

THIEVES & YARDS

~

You know what, I may be a twenty one year old man, the year may be 2015, and I may be in the biggest boyband in the world, but when I tell you that fan fiction is still a wonder to me, fan fiction is still a wonder to me.

How can you even manage to take the time to write a story about people you’ve never met and publish it online, the evil internet, and the fact that you get nothing out of it doesn’t faze you? How does that even work? Are fangirls just wired like that?

And some of them are so good; so well written, so genius, and they don’t even get paid. A lot of these writers don’t even grow up to continue writing. Why spend all that time for nothing?

Is it the fact that people actually read your works? Or that you get feedback for something you do in your spare time? That you publish something and there’s a slim chance that someone will actually read it?

How do people even get millions of reads?

How do I manage to write really well inside this dumb book, but I can’t type up a short story without forgetting basic punctuation and paragraph forms?

Like, what the fuck?

I wrote my first story and it took me a while to get to ten reads. Don’t even challenge me on this.

 

Chapter Two

A/N Just a note that this story is co-written by @dustylollipop @swagmasta21 @hollaween @not_in_a_boyband and @cornered :) comments and votes would be greatly appreciated!

 

Zayn P.O.V

I don’t even know why I have to walk around with these four idiots. I mean, have you seen them? They’re nothing compared to me. I’m like the Jesus in this pool of sinners. I glow and they…don’t. I’m beautiful, they’re just not.

I may seem cocky right now but I only speak the truth.

“Yo Zayn, stop looking at your reflection and let’s go.” Liam called out to me.

I scowled and raised my chin. I know this dishwasher did not just talk to me.

“When you attempt to talk to me,” I said, brushing past him. “You will refer to me as Master.”

“No!” Liam wrinkled his nose and his voice dropped to a whisper. “That sounds dirty.”

I spun around to face him. “Your job is dirty.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “We have the same job!”

I smirked. “I don’t wash dishes!”

That finally shut him up. I sent him one last smile before fixing my hair, making sure it was in the right place.

I walked out of the weird kitchen and over to the closet, taking out my Versace jacket and carefully putting it on. That Versace jacket didn’t even compare to me. Nothing could. I am Versace. Matter of fact, I’m more than Versace, Ralph, and Gucci combined.