BTS Imagines and Scenarios

Innocent Author (Jungkook)

Jungkook x F (college student) Reader 

Warnings: A little bit of smut, words like 'bastard', 'damn', 'idiot', hurtful behaviour, surface level mention of rape (nothing in depth)

Word count: 3514

*DISCLAIMER*

Jungkook wouldn't act like this in real life. This is just fiction.

............................................................................

You ran your fingers through your (h/l) (h/c) hair, sighing.

"Mr. Mario, you do realize that I've been really busy lately. I've had to write so many damn essays just this week. I couldn't think of a single plot or even get in the right mood for it."

"That is exactly why I told you to-"

"No. Way. I'm ending this call." He was starting to get on your nerves again.

"Y/n, I know you're angry, and I'm sorry. But please, at least give me something by next week."

"Ugh. Fine. Don't expect it to be too long, though," you said through grit teeth.

"Thank you. But I will expect to see you at the inauguration tomorrow."

"What? But I already told you that I can't come!"

"Either that or I'll have to make you-"

"Bye!" you hurriedly ended the call before he could finish. Laying back on your bed, you sighed deeply. You knew he wouldn't be too angry at you for ending the call. Your editor and you were close enough for that. But that closeness also meant that he had the liberty to suggest ideas to you. Ideas to make your stories better. Not that your stories were bad, you had millions of followers, but just that according to him, it lacked a certain sense of reality. You scoffed. You felt yourself blush when you thought of your stories. Each one a fictional three-chapter fantasy that could satisfy anyone and everyone's desires. In simple words, you wrote smut. You couldn't be more proud of yourself, because as shameful as it was to admit, you had no real life experience in that field whatsoever, but your stories received wonderful reactions. At first, you had started writing for fun, but slowly, as your stories became longer and more varied, Mr. Mario had discovered you, and here you were, an exclusive writer for his widely famous magazine.

You stood up from your bed, picked up your bag, grabbed the red scarf lying on the floor of your dorm room, threw it on and left to go get yourself a cup of coffee.

As you walked out of your building, some of your course mates waved at you. You smiled, waving back at them, and then heard a few of them go, "Aw! She's so cute!", "Isn't she the cutest!".

That's when you felt that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. If only they knew what you did for a living.

To be precise, no one knew. None of your fans knew. According to them, 'Sweet&sexycupcake', your pen name, could belong to anyone. Most probably someone with all the experience in the world, not a second year college student.

When you pushed open the doors of your favourite in-campus café, you heard a loud squeal from somewhere inside, followed by hurried footsteps, and the next moment, you were wrapped in the arms of someone whose thick orange hair fell all over your face. (HP reference! 😉)

"Twyla! Bleuagh!" you spit through her hair, forcing your best friend to pull back from the embrace. "Sorry," she laughed, her nose crinkling. You instantly felt at ease. You just couldn't help but find so much comfort when you were with her.

"It's alright. Where are you sitting?"

She pointed over to a table by the windows and pulled you there by the hand. Once you were seated and made your orders, you sighed. Twyla immediately knew there was something on your mind.