frikin
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When he accepted the job to help a Texan rodeo with marketing, Park Jimin didn't plan to catch the eye of a good-looking, smooth-talking, bull-riding cowboy.
He didn't expect to like Jeon Jeongguk so much, either.
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In three weeks, family holidays will be over and Jeongguk’s life will get back to normal. Just like every summer.
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Jimin hates pretty much everyone who walks the face of the Earth: as one of the worlds leading fashion designers, he simply doesn’t have the time for petty relations, or sappy friendships—but the person that grates Jimin’s nerves the most, just so happens to take the form of a charming pop star named Jeon Jungkook.
And Jungkook thinks starting a fake media marriage will solve all their problems.
Jimin has a lot of problems.
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Park Jimin doesn’t do feelings. Or dating. Or people, really. He likes numbers, structure, quiet libraries, and being left alone.
Unfortunately, Jeon Jungkook doesn’t seem to understand the concept of leaving him alone, nor taking a hint.
He’s relentless. Patient. And for some reason, completely convinced that Jimin’s worth the effort.
It’s annoying. It’s overwhelming. And eventually—it’s everything.
A slow unravelling. A soft becoming.
The story of two people falling into something neither of them expected, and both of them needed.
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“So, I heard your prayer,” the thing says, his gaze not leaving Jungkook’s. “I wanna offer you a deal.”
“What prayer?” Jungkook asks, his voice laced with venom. Like he’s going to believe this thing is an angel or something.
“You want to be famous, yeah? You’ve been trying to break into the industry as an idol for a decade now. You don’t wanna give it up ‘cause it’s your passion, you’re willing to work hard as long as you finally get your shot, yada yada yada,” he says with another wave of his hand. Jungkook holds back a noise of fear at the being word-for-word quoting his prayer from earlier tonight. “I can help you get your wish. Fulfill your dreams. Become a star. All that jazz. You just have to fuck me.”
Jungkook’s eyes almost pop out of his head. “Excuse me?”