SCHOOL F*CKING SUCKS! | YANDERE!BTS

MOTHERFUCKING KIM TAEHYUNG

WARNINGS. mention of smut.

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the door of mrs. yoo's classroom slides open and you stand as straight as you can, as confident as you usually are. you look a lot more put together by the time you and jimin arrive; your hair is fixed, blazer uniform buttoned up, and the pockets of your backpack are sealed tight and secure. but when your homeroom teacher halts her chalk from writing on the green board, and when she cuts her sentence to narrow her eyes at the two of you, you suddenly feel a lot smaller. you want to bury yourself into the half stack of papers in your hands, wallow in the incorrect answers to the quizzes.

shock replaces her discontent. "_____? you're late?!" she exclaims. it's like she can't believe it, and you don't blame her. "i thought you'd be absent!"

just when you begin your apology, your habit of rambling when you really have nothing to say, jimin starts talking.

"don't worry, mrs. yoo, _____ isn't late. the student council had a meeting without notice," jimin's sweet voice and polite smile melts all the worries away, and you hear a couple students sigh as they admire him. the smile he has on is the same smile that he shows to all the teachers, all the faculty. he fishes for a note in his pocket, shifting his stack of quizzes on one hand and walking up to your teacher. you follow behind him as he continues, "i made sure that mr. jong wrote to you about the mishap. if you'd be willing to, could you excuse _____ this time?"

mrs. yoo takes the note. she looks to you, her favorite student, then looks to jimin, the council president. she doesn't even check the sticky note, sighing and trusting jimin's word. "tell mr. jong to send it via email next time, alright?"

jimin glances at you, and his lips give a small smile that's laced with mischief. "yes ma'am. i'll be sure to tell him."

you'd never expect jimin to ever forge handwriting. unknown to you, he'll do anything without complaints if it means getting you out of trouble.

after the graded quizzes are placed on mrs. yoo's desk, jimin bids farewell to the middle-aged woman with a bow and says a friendly goodbye to you (not before glancing at a particular student seated among the class, which causes his expression to turn sour until he meets your wave with warm eyes). once the doors are slid shut once more, and once mrs. yoo gets back to writing on the chalkboard, you hastily make your way to your desk in the front row.

you can't look at your teacher's desk without wanting to puke or run away. you think that vomiting might be easier, given how sore your shaky legs are from yesterday.

a couple of students glance in your direction when you get to your chair. you try to smile at them, try to give them the friendly aura that jimin always pulls off, but the muscles on your face don't cooperate. you seem like you're wincing, and it's not a good look on the poise class president.

"pffft."

your head spins to a certain classmate in the back.

motherfucking kim taehyung. 

he leans back in his chair as his legs are lazily spread in front of him. the usual bored expression on his handsome face is graced with mocking amusement. unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, it's aimed at you.

you want to scream at him, curse him out, yell out all the rage inside of you and tell the asshole that he's such a horrible student, not because of his stupid pranks or his lack of respect or his absence of trying in studies, but because he's using the goofy persona he displays to conceal a much darker side of himself.

you want to do all that, yet you can't stop yourself from watching his hands play with the eraser on his desk.

of course his sleek fingers are adorned in expensive rings. of course they remind you of how he touched your skin in ways that force a shudder down your spine, how he gripped you by the waist and fucked you on your teacher's desk last night. and of course, he sends a wink your way that goes unnoticed by anyone else, like it's a secret signal just between the two of you.

your face feels hot with frustration, embarrassment, and all the shitty emotions that rich, class clown kim taehyung always manages to make you experience.

dropping your bag on the floor, you plop in your seat with an irritated huff and start taking out your notebooks. but it's so awkward, because you're fumbling through your bag, making so much noise the more your hand rustles to find the goddamn pencil bag. you've never been this unprepared for class before.

and to motherfucking kim taehyung, it's adorable. from his seat near the window, he can see your pink ears, the pout on your lips, the flustered crease of your brows. he smiles to himself and leans forward, holding his chin in his palm.

how cute, he thinks.