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5sos Preference 69: 5 Seconds of Summer School

basically he’s ur teacher and yeah I might make this like a mini series but only if I get requests

Mr. Irwin:

Resting your head on your desk, you close your eyes for a single moment only for them to fly open when a collective gasp circulates through your class room. Looking up cautiously, you notice all the male students grumbling quietly whilst the females are all tugging their skirts up their thighs and their shirts down to expose their breasts. Rolling your eyes a little, you turn to the front of the room only for your eyes widen and your head to drop back onto your desk.

A loud bang as your forehead makes contact with the wooden surface echoes through the room, a grimace spreading on your face as you groan and bring your hands up to rub your now sore forehead. “Holy shit,” You grunt, risking a glance up to see that none other than your summer fling is staring back at you with a guarded expression. You knew this would turn out badly, hell you two had only broken up recently because you confessed to him that you were in fact a minor and had lied to him about being in college.

“Well, now that that’s over,” All the girls giggle obnoxiously, fawning over Ashton- er, Mr. Irwin who’s only gazing at you with that indescribable look in his eyes. “I’m Mr. Irwin, I’ll be your teacher from now on. Ms. Baldwin has relocated.” You bite your tongue to keep from whining in protest. You want to stand and stomp your feet, throw a tantrum like a child. You refused to be taught by this man, you just knew that due to your past relationship he’d surely be out to get you. “I’ve taken the liberty of creating a seating chart for you all, if you’d please stand and allow me to point out your new seat.”

In a matter of minutes the entire class is seated, aside from you. “Yes, Miss (Y/L/N), Ms. Baldwin warned me that you liked to dawdle in her class. You’ve earned yourself the seat directly in front of my desk, and a thirty minute detention for your episode. I expect that this will be the only time I must spend my afternoon scolding you?” Your cheeks burn red, your eyes falling to the ground and tears stinging your eyes as you take your seat in front of his. “Answer me, please.”

“No, sir.” You mutter feebly, picking at your shirt and struggling to ignore the quiet giggles being passed around the room. “It won’t happen again." 

Mr. Hood:

"Fat ass,” One of the popular girl cackles as she pushes you roughly, your hands flying up to cover your bare stomach as you’re shoved out of the locker room and into the gym without a shirt on and only your tiny gym shorts covering your legs. “Mr. Hood! (Y/N)’s streaking!” She shrieked, pretending to be disgusted as she covers her eyes and gives you a sneaky smirk.

The entire gym is already alight with boisterous laughter, tears filling your eyes to the point where your vision is blurred. But, you can still make out the extremely angered face your gym teacher, Mr. Hood, is giving you as he opens the locker room door and pushes you inside gently. “I expect you to be dressed completely and in my office in ten minutes.” He practically growls, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he slams the door and storms off to his office. The moment you’re alone you’re crying, sobs racking your body as you pull your gym shirt on and lace your trainers. Pulling on your huge jumper, you breath in the scent of your home, calming yourself before glancing at the clock and frantically wiping the tears from your eyes as you realize it’s been nearly ten minutes already.

You sprint through the gym, merciless taunts being shouted at you from the girls and vulgar comments echoing in your ears from the boys. You throw Mr. Hood’s office door open, closing it and breathing deeply to stop yourself from turning hysterical once again. You didn’t understand why your peers were so ruthless when it came to you, doing anything and everything they could to embarrass you and then get you in trouble with your teachers afterwards. “Miss (Y/L/N), just in time. Sit down, please.” Mr. Hood’s voice is quiet, gentler than it was in the gym and your eyes meet his curiously as you follow his orders. “What actually happened out there, because I’m fairly sure by your puffy eyes that you didn’t plan for this.”

You nibble on your lower lip, thinking hard as to whether you really should fess up to the awful bullying you’d been experiencing. Blinking rapidly, you met his gaze once again to see him watching you curiously. Could you really lie to him? You knew for sure that if you stuck to the story that you’d be suspended, did you really want to suffer the punishment? “Mr. Hood, Miss Gilbert wasn’t lying. I guess I’m just out of control.” You plastered on a terribly fake, arrogant smirk and spoke with sarcasm though on the inside you were crumbling to pieces. You couldn’t tell the truth, the bullying would only get that much worse if you were to retaliate.

Mr. Hood purses his lips, his eyes narrowing as he stares you down. You know he can tell that you’re lying, but for some odd reason he accepts your lie. “I have no choice but to give you a week’s worth of after school detention. I expect you here, in my office exactly ten minutes after the final bell or I’m adding another week. Don’t bring any homework, I’ll figure something out for you to occupy yourself with.” His tongue swipes over his lips as he speaks his last statement, a smirk twitching at his mouth before he regains composure. “For now, go to the office. You’re dismissed for the day.”

Mr. Hemmings:

“Shit!” You shriek in horror, your eyes frozen on the clock that states it’s nearing half past nine in the morning. “I’m late, I’m late, I’m so fucking late!” You chant to yourself as you rip your pajamas off and dress yourself into your uniform before throwing your hair into a grossly messy bun, spraying on perfume and using a ton of deodorant to cover the fact that you weren’t showered. You sprint all the way to your school, panting as you run into the main office to receive your late slip. It’s the second time this week that you’ve shown up late, but you couldn’t exactly help it.

Mr. Hemmings definitely didn’t understand that, though. You hesitate a moment, your hand hovering over his door handle as you consider just skipping his class. You take one step back, dropping your hand only to bump into someone. “Going somewhere, Miss (Y/L/N)?” You swallow thickly, turning with a sheepish smile to face Mr. Hemmings who’s smirking down at you with raised eyebrows. “Busted.” He tsks, chuckling to himself as he opens the door and nudges you through first before following quickly behind with a thick stack of papers in his grip. “Well, class, it seems as if Miss Hookie has joined us just in time for a pop quiz. Would you please do the honors?”

You bite back a rude comment, giving him a fake smile as you take the stack of papers and hand them out to your class. Sliding into your own seat, you pull out your pen and stare down at your test with wide eyes and parted lips. It was like a foreign language to you, the equations and formulas all unfamiliar to you as you’d probably been absent when they’d been taught to the class. “Having troubles?” You jump in your seat, looking up to see Mr. Hemmings staring down at you with his usual cocky smirk. “I’m sure I can tutor you tonight in detention, and tomorrow night, and the next night, and every other night for the rest of the month. You’re lucky I’m not suspending you, now hand over your test and go to the office. I don’t want to look at you right now.”

Your lips are trembling in shame as you hand him your paper, shuffling to the door as the class erupts into snickers and giggles behind you. Embarrassment is eating away at you, Mr. Hemmings holding the door open and following you into the hall as you bite your lips to keep them from shaking any further. You know that your eyes are surely glassy with un-shed tears, making your distress fairly obvious to him as he stares down at you with guarded eyes. “You don’t understand, Mr. Hemmings,” You tried to reason with him, your voice taking on a desperate tone as you looked up at him with a flushed face and watery eyes.

“There is no excuse you can possibly give me that will make me change my mind, Miss (Y/L/N). I’m sorry I’ve embarrassed you, but perhaps you should have thought about that before you tried to skip my class.” He gives a lame apology, showing no remorse whatsoever for the fact that you were practically falling apart in front of him. “I’ll see you in detention, maybe you should use your time in the office to study. Your grades are already at rock bottom, if they drop any lower and you won’t graduate this year.” You turn on your heel, stalking down the hall and wiping at your eyes and coughing to cover the small whimpers that fight their way from your lungs. He just didn’t understand.

Mr. Clifford:

Panic! At The Disco is blasting through your earphones, your head resting on your arms which are splayed across your hard desk. Yet another day in school where you could barely keep your eyes open, your music being the only thing that could keep you from falling to the ground in a coma from sleep deprivation. It wasn’t like you just weren’t sleeping, more like you couldn’t. You’d suffered from a random bout of insomnia lately, large bags forming under your eyes to further prove your point if the zombie like state you were in wasn’t enough proof.

You lifted your head up quickly, ready to snap on someone with the full force of your pent up rage as one of your earphones was ripped out of your ear, only to meet the furious gaze of your teacher. Mr. Clifford wasn’t the usual teacher, he was startlingly young with crazy colored hair (that was seemingly thinning from being abused) and random tattoos scattered over his body. You didn’t know how he’d managed to get a job at your school, but you weren’t exactly complaining. He was hot, and you were quickly learning he was even sexier when he was angry.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He growled out, his hands yanking your other earphone from your ear and ripping your iPod off your desk. “I understand that you may have troubles with sleeping, but that does not mean that you may use my class as nap time. Sit up, pay attention, do your work and I’ll see you later today in detention.” He snapped, stomping back to his desk and throwing your iPod in one of the drawers carelessly before he continued to prattle on about whatever it was he actually taught about in his class.

You spent so much time sleeping in his class, you’d actually forgotten what class it was. It was always just Mr. Clifford’s class, you couldn’t seem to remember for the life of you what you were supposed to be learning. You blinked your eyes rapidly, yawning into your hand as your head grew heavier and heavier. You knew that without your music you were a goner, you were going to fall asleep at any moment and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.

Your head was just barely sinking down, your eyes drooping when a scoff woke you up instantly. “Unbelievable, Miss (Y/L/N), already sleeping again? You are truly insufferable. Out in the hallway, now. I’ll be out to have a word in a moment.” You were quick to follow orders, your cheeks flushing as you walked briskly into the hallway and leaned against the lockers beside the door. “You cannot keep acting out like this. I’ve given you detention, I’ve suspended you, what do I have to do to get you to focus?” He rattled off, counting off all his attempts on his fingers. “Do you even know how bad your grade is in my class?” You shook your head quickly, looking down with a sheepish grin. “That’s it. Everyday after school, for the rest of the school year, I expect you in my room. I’m going to tutor you from the time the final bell rings until the janitor arrives. I expect you in my room starting today.”