hawaii • oli london x reader

Chapter 1

"Honey, what kind of cake do you want to have for your birthday?" my mom asks.

We're standing in the Target baking aisle. Today is Saturday, and it's the last I'll ever spend as a 17-year old.

I look up from my phone. "Uhhhh... I don't care. Strawberry, I guess."

Mom hates strawberry cake. It's not my favorite either, but that's what she gets for interrupting me while I'm scrolling through Jimin pics on twitter.

She sighs and tosses a box of strawberry cake mix into the cart, along with a can of strawberry cream cheese frosting. Mom continues on in silence. I shuffle along behind her, eyes glued to my phone.

God, I love Park Jimin. His visuals are u n r e a l. Everyone who's had the chance to see him irl says that they can't believe how perfect he really looks. Jimin's also got angelic vocals and is, in my opinion, one of the best dancers in the industry.

We pass through the home decor section, which I identify by the large framed pictures and fuzzy pillows blurring past in the corners of my eyes.

Suddenly, I'm crashing into something. I've knocked over... a cardboard cutout?

I hear an old man grumble from a distance, "Stupid teenagers, always on their phones!"

My face burns as I pick up the object I've just collided with. I gasp. It's a life size cardboard cutout of Jimin! Beautiful, perfect, silver-haired BS&T Jimin!!!

Ooh, and it looks like the price has been reduced from $100 to only $50. I've got to snatch this bargain!!!

I pick Jimin up and tuck him under my arm like a surfboard and go sprinting back to Mom. Surprisingly, she didn't notice my little clash and has since moved on to the decorative pillow aisle.

As I turn the corner, I nearly whack an oncoming elderly lady in the face.

"Watch it, little girl!" she croaks.

"Sorry, ma'am!!" I shout over my shoulder.

I finally reach our cart and come to a stop.

"Mom!" I say between deep breaths, "Can I get this?? You know, for my birthday?"

I plop ChimChim into the basket. She gazes at with a disapproving frown, then turns to me.

"Is this that Jimin boy you're always rambling on about?"

I nod. Her face softens into a thin but almost... mischievous (???) smile. Should I be scared?

"Darling..." she finally gets out, "We, uh, actually have Jimin at home. Go put that back."

Images of the many posters in my room, most of which are BTS/Jimin, pop into my head. They're what Mom's referring to... right???

Defeated, I hoist the cardboard love of my life out of the cart and grudgingly place him back where I'd crashed into him.

"Bye, Jimin," I whisper, "Hope some lovely ARMY gives you a good home."

Then I walk off, pushing the loss of life-size cardboard Jimin out of my mind. It's nearly my eighteenth birthday, after all. There's plenty of exciting things I can focus on.

When we walk through our front door, I gasp. There's a blond stranger sitting at our dining table. His back is turned away, though, so I can't tell who it is. The mop of platinum hair looks super fluffy and shiny, though.

Could it be who I think it is?? Did Mom mean that we literally have Jimin at home??

"...Jimin?" I ask. "Is that you?"

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Please support Jaemin's Thicc Bacc, a 22 member kpop-inspired group by following us on Instagram:

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