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Niall: You silently walked through the hallways of the crowded school. Watching the jungle of insecure teenagers stumble from class to class. You had a break for about another hour. A very muscular school jock came bounding up to you, receiving the throw of a lofted football. You didn’t notice him running towards you until he knocked you off your feet. You swore to yourself as he ran away with his crew laughing. You groaned and headed down the slick floors. You made a sudden left turn pushing on the bright yellow door. “Niall-” you called rushing into the tiny room to a surprise, “-uh Mr. Horan.” You corrected yourself to see the group of students poised at their desks. They were all deep in thought typing away at their school laptops. Niall’s eyes widened surprised to see your presence. You slowly tiptoed backwards ready to retreat when Niall stopped you with his eyes. He stared directly at you, making you melt into your winter boots. He smiled slightly. but secretly before looking back at his class. Dozens of faces now recognizing you and all giving you the same glare. Niall looked at them, then back at you. “Y/N! Just the girl I was looking for. I need to discuss that poem of yours with you. Would you like to step out in the hallway with me for a minute?” he asked with some on the spot thinking. You quickly caught on, nodding your head. He glanced at his class and said, “I’ll be just a minute. Stick to your writing, and if I hear one peep I’m making you all right another one, is that clear?” You smiled. It turns you on, whenever you heard Niall being stern. Especially with his students, he was so manly and demanding, you liked it. He lead you outside away from the class. He scanned the hallway looking for stragglers. He quickly took you by your hands, pushing you up against the lockers. “Y/N…” he whispered harshly in your left ear. You moaned at the sudden touch to your skin. “Niall…” you said back in the same tone. He didn’t let you say a word, shutting down your lips with his. He moved them up and down feeling your body with it. At that point you didn’t care if he was your teacher, or if anyone was watching, you just cared at him. “What was that poem you were talking about again?” you asked smirking. 

Zayn: “Okay so you need to all read chapters 8-12 tonight, along with doing a reflection for each,” he said connecting his eyes with you, “Is that clear?” The room was silent, except for the occasional groans from the mass of homework he had just assigned. “Is that clear?” he boomed again, his voice rising. Everyone took back in the seats nodding, “Yes Mr. Malik.” You mumbled along, slumping in your seat. “Y/N,” he asked cross, “Is that clear?” You looked around to see if he was talking to you, and he was. You gave him an odd look. What was he doing? “Y/N,” he asked again harshly. You nodded a bit frightened. “Good,” he said quickly moving on. The piercing sound of the school bell above you, dismissed the class. You packed your things, as slow as possible. You made sure the others around you left the classroom before you got up. You walked over to his desk, dropping your bags again. “What was that for?” you asked suddenly. He stopped in mid-air as he erased the white board. “What are you talking about?” he charged back, wiping away the green marks of Shakespeare’s quotes. “Why’d you pick on me like that?” you asked sitting down on the wooden chair in front of his desk. “Oh,” he said sitting on the side, “About that…” “Yeah. About that…” you said crossing your arms offended. “I’m sorry. I needed to do that. I can’t have them thinking that we have anything going on, anything,” he repeated in a hushed tone. You looked around. “Zayn,” you whispered, “There’s no one here.” “Yeah, but what if someone can hear us from outside or something?” he asked. “Zayn. You need to calm down,” you said taking his hand in yours. He smiled slightly. “Okay,” he said still whispering, “I’m sorry.” “It’s fine,” you mumbled, “But you’re right. We need to do something about this.” “About what,” he asked leaning closer to you, breathing heavily. “About this,” you said bluntly. “About this?” he asked pretending to still be confused. You looked into his sober eyes, kissing his lips passionately. Nearly kicking him from under the desk, you moved in closer, working with your tongue. You washed away his confusion with the tip of your tongue, playing with the inside of your mouth he did the same. “About that,” you replied out of breath. He sighed. “I know,” he replied not taking his hands off of yours.

Harry: “Y/N we need to talk,” he said casually. “Er-I mean we need to talk about the last test we had. You didn’t do that great on it, so yeah. We need to talk,” he said rapidly covering up, noticing the rest of the class. The class carried on, packing their bags and making their way out the door. As soon as the room was cleared you trudged to his desk wiping the sweat from your forehead. “But Harry! I studied so hard for this test you know? I stayed up until 1 last night going over all the material. I thought I was so prepared-” he cut you off, not with his words, but his touch. He grabbed you from the side, he clenched onto your wrists stopping the flowing words from your mouth. He spun you around to face him. “Y/N. You did great on your test.” “But then why-” he stopped you again, not with his words, but with his strong hands hoisting you up. You clung onto the back of his neck, wrapping your legs around his waist. You twirled onto his desirable curls with your fingers. “Because-” he said placing you down gently onto his desk, “I wanted-” He kissed you. “To-” he kissed you again. “-do this,” he said kissing you once more, much harder. You smiled from beneath his lips as he stroked your bangs with his fingertips. “It’s killing me Harry,” you whispered pressing your forehead to his. “Me too,” he said looking into your eyes, tranquilizing yours with his beauty. You tried to hold back, but you kissed him again. Still holding onto his neck, you moved your feet up and down his bum. He held onto your waist for dear life, with so much passion. “Mr. Styles?!” a professional voice cleared her throat from behind you. He sprung back quickly, breaking the kiss roughly. It was the school principal. You didn’t know how long she was standing there, but you didn’t want to know. “Mrs-Mrs. Tuttle,” he said voice harsh and cracking. She stood in her expensive heels, crossing her arms. You didn’t move, you didn’t breathe. Harry stepped away from you, and closer to Mrs. Tuttle. Your throat became hoarse and dry, you tried to speak up, you tried to defend Harry from his losing his job, but you couldn’t. “Mrs. Tuttle,” he said again closing his eyes, “This is Y/N.” You nudged him quickly coming out of your shell, “What are you doing?” It was supposed to be a whisper, maybe a loud whisper, but it came out more as a yell. “Something I should have done a long time ago,” he said standing up straighter. You looked at him hesitantly, as he looked at Mrs. Tuttle. She had grew impatient as was tapping her foot violently. “This is Y/N,” he began again, “And I love her.” She inhaled, and glared at you. You tried to keep your gaze on hers, being polite, but you couldn’t help but look away, look away from the deathly glare that was burning your skin. “Come with me Harry,” she said cold and bitter. He grabbed your hand, helping you off the desk. You smoothed out the skirt of your school uniform as you and him followed Mrs. Tuttle out the door. She turned away after hearing footsteps, “Without the girl.” “No,” you said without thinking,”If he goes. I go.” 

Liam: “But you’re my teacher,” you spat out the words that neither of you wanted to hear. But it was true. “And I have a boyfriend,” you added. You watched his every move from the back of the room. You sat in a row of empty desks. You and Liam both agreed that it was best to sit far in the back, so you wouldn’t be tempted to do anything. You knew for a fact that if you sat in the front that you would be drawn to him and want to pounce on him every second of the day. He stopped grading his papers and looked up. He set down his signature, red grading pen and strolled over to you. “Y/N,” he said quietly. “Liam,” you said getting up, “You know what. I think we should just end this. Before it gets anyone in trouble. I’m sorry.” You quickly bolted for the door, keeping your head low, and your eyes shielded from his. You didn’t look back, you couldn’t. You had the tendency of turning back a lot, of giving in. But you just couldn’t this time. You were certainly in love with Liam, but you were also in love with your boyfriend, Charles. You had an amazing time with Liam, but you also had an amazing time with Chrles. But something about your relationship with Liam, or whatever it was that you two had together, was different. It was at all nothing like yours with Charles. Maybe because he’s a few years older, the danger, the thrill of it all made it all more enjoyable. You made it out the classroom door without him following behind you. You kept running until you made it past the stairwell, right beside the bathroom. You leaned against the wall catching your breath. You put your hands up to your head, trying to fathom what you had just done. You didn’t want it to be over, but you knew it had to be. “Y/N,” you heard from behind you. You spun around to see a tear filled Liam walking towards you. He was holding your electric blue school bag. His plaid tie had came undone and was hanging loosely off his shoulders. His breathing was incredibly heavy as he approached you. You tried to look away, from the sight that would be calling you back, pulling you back in. You covered your eyes with your pulsing hands and cried into them. He rested a bare hand on your shoulder, with a slightly firm hold. “You forgot your bag,” he said dully. You cried even harder. You admitted to yourself, that you wished he hadn’t come after you for that. You wished he hadn’t come to give your bag back, you wished he had come to get you back. You turned to him, caught in his arms. You lunged for the bag, as he dropped it hard to the floor. He caught you in his arms, and held you tight. Up against the wall, you looked at your bag lying on the floor. Helpless, lifeless, that was you, you thought. You were the bag lying on the cold, hard ground waiting for someone to pick you up. Except you had the love of your life with you, right here. He looked you straight in the eyes and said, “You and I both know, that we’re not over.” Before you could protest he kissed your lips hard, with a hungry taste, he wanted you to feel loved, and you did. You secretly dated for a few more months until coming out to the school, and the press. Everyone hated you at first, and it was hard. Especially all the girls at school, but they were just jealous. You broke things off with Charles, it was really difficult for him, but he understood and you remained pretty good friends. At first it was hate, and then it was envy from them all. It was as if you had won the biggest prize as your school, and he really was. 

Louis: His eyes were watching you, watching you write, watching you type, watching you breathe. You tried to ignore it, tried to focus on your school work, but it was hard. His hair gelled perfectly into place, as he paced back and forth on the floor in front of you. You watched him and he watched you. That’s what it was like for the whole period. You silently hated on him for switching your seat at the beginning of class, but also thanked him for it. “I guess that’s it,” he said sitting down on his desk still looking at you. You looked away, packing up your things. When everyone left the room you walked over to him. “Louis,” you groaned. “What is it Y/N?” he said surveying the room to make sure no one was there. “Why’d you move my seat?” you asked pouting. “Why not?” he asked pulling you close to him against the desk. “I can’t concentrate!” you exclaimed giggling a bit. “Me neither…” he said looking your body up and down. You blushed. “Don’t blush,” he whispered taming some of your hair to the side. “I just needed you up in the front, so I would have someone to look at. I needed to stare at your beautiful eyes, your flawless, flowing hair…” he trailed off into a kiss. A heart-felt, warm kiss that gave you chills. You smiled up at him. “But what about Alexa. She’s gorgeous,” you commented about the most desirable girl in your grade. “Not as gorgeous as you,” he said kissing you again. He frowned, “I’m serious.” He could tell you weren’t buying it. All of a sudden a loud blast of techno music went off, along with violent buzzing from his phone on the surface of the desk. You jumped. “That’s me,” he said picking it up. “Hello?” he asked annoyed. He hated it when people cut him off from kissing you…”Oh um hey Eleanor,” he said changing his tone, “How are you babe?” You cringed. You couldn’t stand it when you heard him talking to Eleanor, you knew that she was the gorgeous one, the one that was a model. She was the one that got all the “babes”, got the real kisses, got to marry him. “Okay thanks love. You’re so sweet. I’ll see you at home tonight okay?” he said into his phone, “Okay. Alright! Love you El!” He hung up rolling his eyes. You avoided eye contact with him, probing the walls of the room. They were stapled with quotes, Louis’ favorites, he loved quotes. You noticed a particular one hanging directly above the whiteboard. “I’m sorry I’m jealous, just not sorry I love you,” you read aloud. His eyes darted to the exact poster you were reading from. Even though their must’ve been hundreds of quotes gathered around the room, he knew each one, and their exact location. It was one of his many talents that you loved about him. “You can’t be jealous Y/N…” he said turning back to you. “How can I not be?” you asked plainly. He had no answer, he looked at his shoes, pointing his toes at you. “I’m sorry,” he said really having nothing else to say. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” you said, “I should have never fallen for you. I should have never came in complicated everything for you. So I’m sorry.” “Don’t say that Y/N. This is not your fault. I want this just as much as you do,” you looked at him for a moment as he paused. “I don’t know how this is going to work Y/N. But I’ll make it work,” he said, “somehow.” You were frozen, you didn’t want to talk, you didn’t even want to nod. “Y/N?” he asked, “Give me anything?” You stared at him. “Please. Let me know that you want this too. If you do, then I will fight for you, whatever it takes. I’m ready. Just say you want this too…” he looked up and his eyes set on another quote in the back of the room and read it aloud, “So kiss me now, and mean it like I do. So I know you love me, like I love you.” And so you did. 


He’s your teacher Part 2 

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