The Gamer's Guide to Romance || •PJM• ✔️

Hello Everybody, My Name Is... Jimin?

Remember to vote if you'd let Jimin punch you in the face until your windpipes give out and you see the gates of Heaven, or if you like French toast. No one will ever know which one.

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Jimin

What in the sweet home Alabama was Park Jimin looking at?

With his jaw slacked and his posture about as proper as that one gremlin-like Lord of the Rings character, Jimin stared at his Twitter messages, specifically the one from Mark with a blue checkmark next to his name. The message started with Hey, and cut off afterwards, but the content of the message didn't matter. Mark could tell Jimin to go fuck himself for all he cared. For years, Jimin had dreamed of that day.

The day motherfucking Markiplier would message him.

With a squeal and a spring in his step, he danced to his marble kitchen, where his two Golden Retrievers, Kookie and Mochi, barked at him and wagged their fluffy tails. Jimin giggled and scratched behind their ears. His bare feet pressed on the chilly surface, and he relished the temperature dip that contrasted with the sweltering heat of Los Angeles outside his new mansion.

Three years ago, Park Jimin started a gaming and commentary channel, which exploded after his The Kid-ification of the Internet video went viral. The video analyzed how YouTube and other websites had gone too kid-friendly for their own good. Jimin became a sensation, making millions in a single month and tens of millions every year.

But, not gonna lie, he'd trade it all for Markiplier to punch him.

Jimin clicked his tongue to summon his dogs to follow him. They trotted along as he pranced up his spiral staircase past the chandelier in the middle of the high ceiling. All the walls were white and barren, as he preferred a minimalist style for everything except his gaming room. He entered said room a minute later since it was right at the top of the stairs, and inside waited soundproof panels, LED lights fading between the colors of the rainbow, a shelf with his name in all cap block letters, and his gaming PC with the best motherboard he could build and an RGB keyboard.

The monitor was more expensive than his childhood home, and the gaming chair had extra cushions due to the size of his fat ass. He plopped down on it, loaded up his computer, and allowed his dogs to lick his black sweatpants. He set his phone down to wipe his clammy hands on his white t-shirt, then picked up the device to answer the text he had received ten minutes ago. Upon opening it, he cleared his throat and narrated it to his sons.

"Hey, sorry to text out of nowhere, but I've been meaning to ask if you'd be down to collab and meet my friend group? We're doing a revisited series for some old co-op games we used to play, and I think you'd love to meet my friends. Charlie will be there, don't worry."

Jimin broke off to jump in his seat. He banged his poor knee off the desk and whimpered like a little bitch at the pain, then he pouted and tucked his knees against his chest.

Markiplier knew Jimin's weakness: Charlie, otherwise known as YouTube Jesus, Big Daddy Moist, Penguinz0, and/or MoistCr1TiKaL. Jimin preferred Big Daddy Moist, but hey, Mark said Charlie, so he made a mental note to say Charlie during the meet-up.

"Kook, Mo," Jimin said to his sons. The dogs mouth breathed in response. "I think I just had an orgasm."

They didn't react, not that he expected them to. He booped their noses and kissed both their furry heads before typing out a response. He brought his brows together and wiped the sweat off his forehead as if the single text was the most strenuous thing he had ever done, and when he had a, I would love that! ready, Mark sent yet another text.