#idk why but my coworkers seem to really like physical contact for some reason?? i’m not used to it at all man… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heoneyology · 4 years

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fateful coincidence [1] | l.jh

A/N: does anyone even read my stuff anymore...? anyway, I jokingly told rani (who I can’t even tag anymore or don’t know what blog to tag-) that I should just write my jooheon dreams as fanfics, because then I would at least be writing something instead of being on hiatus. and she took it seriously and said yes. so here we are.

Word Count: 7148

Genre: chaebol/heir!au, slice of life, soft angst, humor? (am I even funny?), romance (slow burn)

Pairing: reader (fem) x lee jooheon (monsta x)

Warnings: mature themes/suggestive, language, there will be... sugar daddy themes... later... but not like sexually idk if this is a warning???

Summary: Lee Jooheon is a well-known heir to a global hotel conglomerate, and is next in line to take over the family business. You’re a journalist aspiring for more, but barely managing to pay your own bills at the end of the month. The two of you are from entirely different worlds, yet fate somehow tangles your threads, and Jooheon seems to know an intriguing amount more about you than he lets on.

“You mean to tell me they just dropped out? Randomly at the last minute like that?”

The voices of your coworkers had been floating around overhead for many minutes longer than you would’ve liked, by now. Why they couldn’t gossip over their coffee delivery somewhere else was beyond you. Why they had to do it at all was further unfathomable. Attempting to push their voices out of your head and concentrate on your work, you rub your temple, squinting at the computer screen in front of you.

“Apparently the journalist got sick and they had no one else to cover from that company. So they called us,” your friend and coworker, Yoo Kihyun, answers the other speaking in his usual matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s tomorrow, though!” The original speaker complains, pressing forward further, “And we’re such a small publication! How can they expect us to take place for the other last minute like this?”

You’re not sure which is louder in your mind, at this point: The complaining of your coworkers—specifically the female senior whose name you’d forgotten—or your typing. With each passing word they utter of annoyance or disbelief, mixed with Kihyun’s logical explanations, the clacking of your fingers against the keyboard beneath your hands quickens, intensifying, before you finally let out a harsh sigh and push yourself away from your desk in frustration. There’s no way for you to concentrate if they’re all going to stand around and gossip like high schoolers.

“Isn’t this good for us, though?” You speak up suddenly, causing the small group to glance over at you in surprise. Typically, you weren’t one to bother with their idle chit-chat breaks. The fact that you were doing so now took them by surprise. Even Kihyun quirks a curious brow at you.

Before you speak up again, you roll your shoulders and give a small stretch. Between their nonsensical worried rambling and your own pile of work, you could physically feel the stress building up in your body. “That they invited us, I mean? As such a small publication?”

In your mind, it made more sense to be excited over being a small publication, taking a larger publication’s place, to any event. Even if it was simply as a fill-in due to a last minute call out—and even if it was a lone instance that may never happen again.

“None of us know anything about the content of the story—how the heck are we supposed to write on it?” The female senior who had been whining up until this point whines once more, and your eyebrows shoot up on your forehead in surprise. Even Kihyun, who is standing next to her, quirks his curiously raised eyebrow back at her instead of you.

Before you can think of the words that pop into your mind, and process them, you blurt out, “And you went to school for journalism?”

As soon as the question falls past your lips, immediately landing heavily into the air of the room, you tense your jaw—realizing just what it was that you said to your senior. But really, how could you go to school for something and refuse to write about it simply because you were unfamiliar with the content?

Next to her, the rest of your coworkers share curious glances. Kihyun presses his lips into a hard line to keep from snickering. Thankfully, rather than say anything, she simply scoffs and stalks off back to her desk. You watch, holding back a grimace by biting down on your lower lip, embarrassed over the slip of your own tongue.

With yet another sigh, you plop back down into your seat. As you do so, the group disperse their coffee gossiping, and you prop your arms on your desk and drop your face into your hands, fingers rubbing your forehead. There was a pounding just beyond your forehead, a mix of stress from work and the unnecessary blabbering that had been filling the workroom just moments ago. But, now, there was an added tension due to a fixation of worry over your lack of filter.

Beside you, the noise of the chair at the desk next to you shifts, signifying Kihyun’s return. At the sound of ice cubes clattering against each other, you lift your face from your hands to see Kihyun giving you a sideways glance, setting an extra cup of coffee on your desk. When you make eye contact with him, he quirks a brow at you, and there’s a sudden urge to smack his eyebrows straight off his face. They’re going to get stuck like that, someday.

“What?”

“You really don’t think before you speak, do you?” He muses, leaning back in his chair and scooting it back to his own work space.

“Tell me something we both don’t know already,” you grumble, reaching for the coffee. Giving the cup a small shake, you watch the ice cubes swirl around within the confines of the plastic amidst the milky brown liquid. “But seriously, how can you go to school for this and then decide just because you don’t know something, you won’t report on it? That defeats the purpose of both the job and the degree…”

“Not everyone has the work ethic you do,” Kihyun replies simply, glancing at you. “Drink the coffee. It should subside the headache. You’re overworking and stressing yourself.”

Surprised, you give Kihyun a dumbfounded blink. “How—?” You start, before cutting yourself off with a small shake of your head. Kihyun was observant, and after years of knowing him, as much as you wanted to ask him how he knew you had a headache and were stressed, it was better not to. It would only lead to him chastising you, anyway. Following his instruction, you lift the straw to your lips and take a sip of the coffee.

Satisfied, you set the coffee back down. It’s your turn to rant, now, similarly to your senior journalist. “Seriously, though, how hard can it be? Isn’t this just an event for the global opening of some hotel? The press probably won’t have any time to ask personalized questions, they typically don’t during those kinds of events.”

Kihyun pulls his gaze away from his work at his own computer, turning back to you. However, before he can answer he blanches. Curious, you glance at him, before glancing over your shoulder to see what exactly he’s staring at. As you turn, a white envelope is simultaneously stuck in your face, and you startle in surprise, practically jumping out of your chair.

“Sh-shit! Team leader!”

Minhyuk, towering above you, gives the envelope a little wave and smirks. “Since you seem so confident about this story, here’s your invite to the event.” Before you have a chance to react, Minhyuk loosens his grip on the envelope, allowing it to fall from his grasp to your lap. You scramble, attempting to catch it as it falls, watching his back as he walks towards his desk. “It’s a black tie event, by the way.”

You feel the color drain from your face, mouth dropping open. “Black… tie…?”

“Is there a problem?” Minhyuk asks, glancing up at you from where he sits at his desk across the room. You clench your jaw, sharing a glance with Kihyun before shaking your head. “Then I expect this to be your best article yet.”

By this point, your jaw is clenched so tight your teeth are grinding together. Letting out a silent sigh through your nose, you turn back to your computer. Slowly, you can feel yourself slump down in your seat further, in defeat.

You really don’t think before you speak, do you? Kihyun’s words echo in your mind, taunting, as you set back to work—heavy with more stress than before.

—

Hours later, you find yourself with your cheek resting against the cool glass of the bus window, blankly staring out at the scenery passing by in a blur. You close your eyes, the movement and slight jostling of the bus making the ache of your head worse. Your head pain hadn’t eased up for the rest of the day, much to your displeasure, and the turmoil of thoughts running through your head hadn’t helped to ease it up in any way, either. You’d ended up straining both your eyes and your mind further by trying to push past the migraine in order to focus on your work, which you suppose had made everything all that much worse.

“I’m too poor for this…” you mumble, dejected. A freaking black tie event that you had no money for. Now, you felt the need to complain as all your coworkers had—except for completely opposite reasons.

“Shouldn’t have opened your mouth.” Next to you, Kihyun is quick to answer.

You lift your head off the cool glass of the window, scowling at Kihyun where he sits next to you, browsing on his phone. “Are you a broken record?”

Lowering his phone, Kihyun lifts his gaze to you before offering a shrug, and you sigh in exasperation. You let your head fall back to the pane of the window with a lack of control, knocking against it, further jostling the pain throbbing in your head.

“Is your headache gone?” Kihyun asks.

“No.”

“And you just—” This time, Kihyun is the one who sighs in exasperation. “Look, I know financially it’s not the best thing to happen to you, but this could be good for your name. And for our company, like you said.”

“I don’t have money to go out and spend on fancy clothing, Kihyun,” you grumble, squinting out the window. The light is starting to hurt.

“It’s not prom season. Just buy a dress and then return it after you wear it.”

As the bus begins to slow, a bus stop nearing ahead, you lift your head off the glass of the window again. You give your head a small shake, pursing your lips. “My moral compass is disappointed in you, but not surprised, that you’d say something like that.”

He chuckles as the bus completely stops, and you gather your bag and stand, squeezing past your legs he tucks in. “Good luck. Text me when you get home.”

You scoff, wrinkling your nose at him. “Why should I text the good for nothing best friend that won’t even go dress shopping with me?”

Though you say this, you both know you’ll text him. Your relationship with Kihyun tended to be a bit of a push and pull, but he was easily the one person you could rely on for anything. And as much as you would quip your words at him, neither of you took it to heart. Kihyun had already made prior plans before this had come about, anyway, and you couldn’t fault him for that.

When you exit the bus, you turn to watch it pull away. Unsurprisingly, Kihyun has scooted toward the window you’d just been occupying, and you give him a small wave before he and the bus are out of sight.

Your head is still pounding, and as you walk up the street a ways in the direction of the mall, you decide it’s probably best to make quick work of this shopping spree considering how the pain hasn’t eased up all day. Neither coffee nor food had helped, and though you knew it was caused by stress—there wasn’t much you could think of that might lessen the stress and ease the headache. You just hoped you’d be able to sleep that night.

Just find a simple dress and go. Anything that will pass for the event, you don’t need to look good.

Of course, that’s much easier said than done. You’re on your fifth store before you find anything that might pass for the type of event you’re headed to. With each store, you watch the prices of the clothing increase. The time of the year means no sales, and because the type of clothing you’re looking for is so specific, it also means that what you’re looking for is bound to be more expensive than usual. Or, rather, at the very least—way out of your budget for the month.

You pull away from a few racks, adding another dress over the small stack draped across your arm. Resigned to your fate, you turn to find a dressing room to sort through the stack you’ve collected. From your peripheral, you realize as you turn someone is walking down the aisle, and you both shift to make room for the other. Without regarding the person, you mumble out an, “excuse me,” out of courtesy as you pass—that is, until a mysterious force of momentum works against you and you don’t pass at all, but rather find yourself stumbling backwards.

Simultaneously, you and the stranger both let out an almost-strangled sound of surprise, and you feel your grip on your clothing articles slip from your grasp, falling to the floor with the hangers clattering against the tile underfoot. Before you join the clothing in your fall, you feel a hand instantly reach out to grab hold of your elbow and steady you. For a brief moment, you glance down at the clothes, before lifting your gaze to the stranger who’d kept you from falling.

In the process of lifting your gaze up to the stranger’s face, you catch sight of the cause of all this—one of the clothing hangers in his arm is linked with one of your dress hangers that had been so abruptly ripped from your grasp. You let out a small exhale of amusement from your nose, before meeting the curious eyes of the man who you’d gotten caught by—or rather, literally caught on.

He quirks a brow at you, clearly having heard your soft laugh.

“S-sorry, I wasn’t—” You stammer out, straightening yourself up and giving a nod towards his arm. “I just thought that was funny.”

“Hm?” The sound stems from the back of his throat, confused, before he blinks down at his arm and breathes out, “Oh… oh—” and then he’s glancing up at you, his round and curiously lit brown eyes suddenly sparkling with a sort of panic. “I’m sorry!”

A chuckle escapes past your lips, more audible than your tiny snort of air from earlier, now amused by his reaction. “It’s fine, it was an accident,” you reply, crouching down to collect the fallen dresses. As you do so, he reaches to his arm to unhook the dress. Before handing it back to you, he eyes it for a moment, gaze flickering briefly to the stack you’d recollected.

“Going to a big event?” He inquires, mild curiosity in his voice. If not for the events that had just transpired, you would have thought him to be prying.

“Thanks,” you murmur, accepting the dress. “Yeah. Technically, it’s for work, but it’s formal and I don’t have anything… fancy or nice.”

The man nods at the dress he’d just given back to you. “That one’s the fanciest, if you ask me. If you’re wanting to spoil yourself a little bit, even though it’s for work.”

While the opinion of a stranger means nothing in particular to you, you still find yourself eyeing the dress he’d returned. It was fancy, you had to agree—but more in a simple, stunning beauty sort of way. With a plunging neckline, the black dress was simple yet elegant. And definitely not something you’d consider your style.

Rather than say that, though, you just give a small smile. “It’s also the most expensive one. I’ve got a budget and this party wasn’t in it until about seven hours ago…” You drape the dress back over your arm, giving the stranger a smile. “Anyway, thanks for your input and thanks for not letting me fall when we got snagged.”

Instantly, he returns your smile, and you’re almost surprised at the deep dimples that break out on his cheeks. “Have a good night. Be careful not to run into anyone else.”

You don’t think anything of the stranger and his dress recommendation until you’re in the dressing room, cycling through the different dresses you’ve chosen and trying them all on. Despite your better judgement, you keep ending up back on that one—the black floor-length dress with the plunging neckline that you thought you’d never be able to pull off, yet somehow hugs the curves of our body almost perfectly. Each time you try it on, you end up grimacing into the mirror and returning to one of the other dresses. It’s not your style. It’s not what you usually wear. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be…

None of the other dresses seem to fit you just as perfectly, and none of them tug on your heartstrings the way that simple black gown does. While you’d already resigned yourself to the fate of going way over budget for the month because of this whole endeavor and your giant mouth speaking out of turn, it takes you almost thirty whole minutes of groaning and grumbling the dressing room, physically pained by the dent this is going to leave in your bank account—before you find yourself at the register checking out, having chosen the black dress anyway.

“Oh,” the girl at the checkout breathes out as you’re busy fumbling through your purse for your wallet. You pay her exclamation no mind, until you hear the next words, “You must be who he was talking about.”

He? Who’s he?

“Huh?” Again, your mouth allows for a dumb reaction to fall past your lips without first thinking it through. You pull your gaze up from your purse to stare at the cashier.

“There was a handsome dimpled man who was here buying a suit earlier, said he ran into a girl who seemed stressed over buying a dress, and that he wanted to pay it forward…”

A moment of silence suspends between the two of you, before you blanch. “Pay it forward?!” You blurt out, voice raising an octave in panic. The girl at the cashier startles in surprise, and you immediately snap your mouth closed and swallow, attempting to calm your panicked heartbeat. “Sorry I just—what?”

Who the hell pays anything forward these days? Let alone for a ball gown? In your chest, you can feel your heartbeat quickening back into a panicked state, and somehow it seems to fall into sync with the throbbing of your headache that you’d almost forgotten was there. The constant pain had slowly fallen into something akin to a static white noise you’d pushed down.

The cashier can’t do anything but shrug at your confusion, fumbling as she works to fold the dress into a box and bag it, pushing it across the counter towards you. She seems to want to be done with you—and honestly, you can’t blame her, after your sudden outburst.

“There’s a gift receipt in the bag if you need to return it.”

You forget to text Kihyun you’ve made it home when you do, too distracted on the bus ride back to remember to do so.

—

You’re relieved, the next day, that the migraine which had been tormenting you for the majority of the day before is gone. You’re also slightly confused, having been so accustomed to the constant throbbing in your head for days now that you’d just assumed it was some sort of karmic punishment you were receiving, for something you’d clearly done and forgotten about. The throbbing just beyond your forehead and eyes had become such a constant, too, that the lack of pressure almost makes you feel, ironically enough, empty. The last thing you really needed was an excuse to dwell on all your stresses with a clear head.

Of course, that being said, Kihyun’s chastising blaring through the speaker of your cell phone is enough to bring the migraine back—or at least threaten to, anyway. Thankfully, it doesn’t, and you grimace as you hold the phone away from your ear, listening to his scolding from afar.

Because of the event and your migraine from the day before, which had been chronic for almost a week now, you’d skipped work. You figured if your job wasn’t going to take care of the expenses for anything else concerning this event, the least they could do was allow you to take the day off to properly prepare, considering how expensive it had gotten. Both of those reasons had led to you taking the day to sleep in, though, until the late afternoon, when you prepped for the evening and got ready. Kihyun had called you just as your cab ride to the venue—the hotel—had ended, and had proceeded to scold you almost immediately after picking up the phone for not only skipping work and worrying him over that and your health, but also for not telling him you’d gotten home safely.

As much as you appreciated his worry as your best friend, a part of you couldn’t help but feel a small bit of annoyance. If he had been so worried, why wait until almost six in the evening to even bother reaching out? When you’d woken up, and even as you were getting ready—going extra lengths to not only style your hair, but put on makeup—Kihyun hadn’t texted or called.

“Ki, can I call you later? Or tomorrow?” You finally place the phone back at your ear, interrupting his ranting, watching others similarly dressed to the nines mingling about in the hotel lobby. Kihyun’s phone call had come at an inopportune time, right when the ribbon cutting ceremony had begun. Now, with the hotel officially open, people were milling about and exploring.

The streets had been crammed upon your arrival, and you’d asked the taxi driver to drop you off a bit of ways down the block, not wanting to deal with the crowds and traffic. It had ended up working to your advantage, since it also meant taking Kihyun’s phone call away from the noise of everything going on, and the cheering that had ensued. You lift your free hand up, glancing down at the delicate watch encircling your wrist. The press event would be starting soon.

“What?” Kihyun’s voice is a bit harsher than usual. What the heck is wrong with him? He’s being a brat.

“I’m already here at the hotel. Since Minhyuk is going to kill me if this isn’t my, ‘best article yet,’ I should probably focus more on my work at hand, don’t you think?” You explain, glancing around the lobby of the hotel.

It’s grand. Fancier than anything you could ever afford to stay at, with marble floors and vaulted ceilings, decor ranging from colors of golds, black, and deep burgundies, and windows that spanned the entirety of the wall up to the ceiling itself. At that moment, it looked more like the home of a conference than the grand hotel that it was, with tables and posters set up explaining the project this specific hotel chain was aiming for—but the small details stood out to you the most.

Before Kihyun can get a word in edgewise, you continue, “I’m sorry if I upset you by not contacting you last night—but a lot happened yesterday and I wasn’t feeling well. I just wanted to rest. If you were so worried, you should have called before now to check up on me.”

You aren’t entirely sure if it’s you being petty, or him—but you hang up before he can fire back, not wanting to spoil the night ahead. Not that you were here to spoil yourself at all. You had work to do, and while you hadn’t needed to be at the ribbon cutting event, the press conference was something you couldn’t skip out on. Especially because of a whiney Kihyun.

Just as you slip your cell phone into the clutch you’d chosen to match your dress, a voice perks your ears. “Was that your boyfriend?”

Despite the vague familiarity of the voice, you still startle in surprise, spinning around on your heel—you hadn’t expected anyone to be eavesdropping on your conversation.

“You—” The word blurts from your mouth in surprise, though this time you manage to catch your tongue before you say anything you might regret, as you had done in the first place to get yourself to where you currently were.

The man from the mall department store stands in front of you, stunning in a plain black suit and white dress shirt. A simple chain encircles his neck just beneath the collar of the shirt, adding a slightly rougher edge to his sleek, professional appearance. There’s a neutral expression on his face, his eyebrows raised at his question aimed toward you and a small, polite smile at the edges of his lips. Despite that, though, his eyes hold a hint of curiosity—something you’d noticed the day before, as well. Maybe it was simply the shape of his eyes, or perhaps the color, but they seemed to be constantly sparkling, alight with unconveyed feelings and expressions of their own.

“No, that wasn’t my boyfriend.” You aren’t entirely sure why you answer him in earnest, especially after he’d gone and bought such an expensive dress for you—a complete stranger. Shouldn’t that typically be a warning sign to head the other way?

“I see you chose the dress, after all,” the man muses, as though reading your mind. Suddenly, his polite smile is broadening into something a little brighter, dimples indenting his cheeks. The sight of the deep impressions causes your heart to pull in your chest. He looks so boyish, you think.

But that’s all the dimples provide to his demeanor, aware of the way his eyes suddenly trail down your form. You become hyper-aware of the way the satin clings to you, and subconsciously scramble to lift your half-open clutch to cover the deep v-neck of the dress. He seems to take the hint of your self-conscious change in demeanor, bringing his eyes back up to meet your gaze—though pausing halfway when he notices that which you had been trading your phone for in your purse.

The way he steps forward, invading your personal bubble, has you tensing—a stark contrast to the comfortable yet shy trade you’d had the day before. His hand reaches up to gingerly trail up the lanyard dangling from your hand, which had fallen from the purse, before tracing over the face of the ID card attached at the end.

“You’re press?” He wonders, before he reads your ID aloud. The way his name falls from your lips causes your heart to lurch into your throat, his voice smooth and honey-like. He lifts his gaze to yours, his dimpled smile broadening. “I’m Jooheon, nice to meet you.”

Jooheon… The name lingers in your mind for a moment, just as he allows his hand to fall from your ID and he steps back. Why does that name sound familiar?

“You should probably head to the conference room, before you’re late.”

“Oh, shit!” His words suddenly spur you out of your thoughts, and the distraction of him in of itself, and you scramble to close your clutch. You had just been annoyed at Kihyun about the possibility of being late to the press conference, and now you were allowing yourself to be distracted by this clearly rich and overly handsome dimpled boy. “I need to go, I’m sorry to rush off like this! Thank you so much for the dress!”

You had wanted to discuss how to pay him back, somehow, but at that moment you find yourself rushing off away from him, instead, pushing yourself through the small clusters of people who block your way. Briefly, in your haste, the thought of if you’ll see him again passes through your mind. What if you didn’t? What if you couldn’t repay him for the dress? Inwardly, you groan, wondering how everything in the span of the last twenty-four hours had become such a confusing mess.

Trying to clear your mind of that specific worry and focus on the task at hand. You flash your press ID at the door before entering the conference hall, trading the lanyard out once more for your phone as you fumble to open a recording app, taking a seat. It happens to be just in time for the first speaker to enter the room, introducing himself as the hotel’s manager. As you listen to the gentleman speak, you idly flip through a pamphlet that had been handed to you on your way in—skimming over the details of the hotel itself, the history of the owners and shareholders and their other hotels, and the overall goal for this specific hotel line as a luxury eco-friendly brand, and more. Having done no specific research before going into this mess, none of the words particularly stick with you in understanding.

“Now, I’d like for you all to give a round of applause for the heir of the line and next CEO, Lee Jooheon—”

Lee Jooheon…

Jooheon…

Your ears instantly perk up, and just as your head snaps up in surprise, the familiar name doing cartwheels in your head, you catch sight of the dress man entering the conference hall with an even more familiar dimpled smile.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me…” you breathe out.

As he takes center stage, he gives a bow that is met with a round of applause, before he introduces himself. “Thank you all so much for joining me tonight for this event. My father put this project in my hands, and while it’s been challenging at times, it’s also revealed to me the hard work that he’s done through the years to get our hotels to where they are today. Tonight, I’m going to share with you our next global chain of hotels and introduce you to my ideas and the business plan from here onward…”

Jooheon continues to speak, and your phone records idly where you hold it between numb fingers. Similarly, your mind feels almost as numb as your grip does—turning over everything that had happened to you in the last day. You’d told yourself that you wouldn’t spend time thinking about these events, that you had work to focus on. But somehow, the events and your work had intertwined and tangled, and now you weren’t sure what it all meant. Surely, at this point, it wasn’t karma any longer? Right? But you also didn’t believe in weird twists of fate… so how the heck had this domino effect transpired?

You barely pay attention to the press conference, forget to engage and ask your own questions, and find yourself slumped at the hotel’s bar when everything is said and done.

When the bartender steps up to you, you barely lift your head from where it rests in your hand, sudden exhaustion overtaking you. “I need something stronger than that free champagne they’re passing out, please. A rum and coke will do. But make it heavy on the rum.”

“Sure thing.”

“You can put it on my tab,” a sudden familiar voice adds in, and immediately the exhaustion is replaced with a shot of panic straight through your system. You immediately straighten yourself up.

“No,” your voice is firm, and you glance over your shoulder—this time unsurprised by Jooheon’s sudden appearance, hands casually tucked in his suit pockets making his stance reveal just how broad he is. It almost distracts you, before you set your jaw. “We are not putting it on your tab, you’ve already done enough.”

“Does this mean you’re taking back your gratitude for the dress?” Jooheon wonders, stepping forward to claim the seat at the bar next to you. “Did you not like it after all?”

When the bartender sets the glass down in front of you, you’re quick to lift it to your lips and take a drink, wrinkling your nose very slightly at the taste of the rum burning down your throat, before turning to Jooheon.

“No, I’m very grateful for the dress—although my conscience is telling me I shouldn’t be,” you scowl at him. “Why would you even buy this expensive dress for me? For someone you don’t even know? And now you want to pay for my drinks?”

Jooheon frowns, only turning away from you briefly to accept a drink the bartender has set on the countertop for him, before giving you a thoughtful expression. “Is this not how you flirt with someone you find attractive?”

Dumbfounded, you blink at him, trying to process his words. Attractive? It was definitely just the dress… no, that doesn’t make sense, he’s the one who bought the dress before even seeing me in it… You shake your head, taking another drink. Two swigs, and the small glass of rum and coke is gone. You motion to the bartender for another.

“You should slow down a bit.”

Despite his warning, you have no intentions of doing so—especially as an instruction coming from a stranger somehow intent on concerning himself in your affairs. “I need this. I’ve had a hard…” Day? Week? Month? All of the above, really, though the past twenty-four hours have really hit you the hardest.

“Life,” you settle on.

“I can drink to that.” Jooheon raises his glass as another rum and coke is placed in front of you. Though you don’t toast him back in return, you both drink at the same time.

As you lower your glass from your lips, swallowing, you let out a small sigh. “This isn’t how you flirt with anyone.” Although his question has long since passed, you finally give him an answer, turning to look at him. You feel your heart skip in your chest, taking note of the fact that he’s already staring at you intently—as though, since sitting down, he hadn’t taken his eyes off you in the first place. Your next words have him frowning.

“In fact, you shouldn’t even be flirting with me in the first place. I’m just here for my job, nothing more.”

“Is this because you found out who I am?”

Your answer comes quicker than either of you expect, a sharp, “Yes,” exiting your mouth without hesitation. Jooheon raises his brows in surprise, and you purse your lips, staring hard at your drink before deciding you need more of the alcohol in your system, between your stresses of life and the current awkward reality of the situation at hand, lifting the glass to your lips again.

“So you’re telling me, just because I’m a chaebol, just because I’m rich, and just because you’re a journalist—I’m not allowed to flirt with you, or pay for things for you?” Jooheon asks. “Although, I will admit, maybe the dress was a bit out of line. But you seemed stressed and I was feeling generous, I just wanted to help someone. You or otherwise, it could have been anyone yesterday I did that for.”

“That is exactly what I’m saying. But, also, you don’t just go and spend money on random people without knowing them. It’s not common, and can be taken the wrong way.”

Jooheon shrugs. “I don’t really care how people take it.”

The luxuries of being rich, you want to blurt aloud in retaliation. If only you had enough money to splurge and spend on people you knew and didn’t know, otherwise, just because you were simply feeling generous as he was.

“I’m not a charity case,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, pursing your lips and glaring down at your drink.

“You never minded this before,” Jooheon retorts, just as softly, the tone of his voice sulkier than it had been.

Surprised, you blink, glancing up from your drink to stare at him. A small episode of panic has seemed to settle over him, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise—as though he hadn’t meant to say those words aloud. For once in your life, you’re glad it’s not you who has blurted something without thinking, one of your most common traits. But you don’t allow yourself to be too thankful, instead replaying his words in your mind.

You never minded this before. What?

Before you can ask him what he means, Jooheon’s phone rings. Saved by the sound, he mutters out a hasty, “excuse me,” and pulls his phone from his inner jacket pocket, stepping away from the bar to take the call.

Hasty yourself, you take another drink, downing the rest of the rum and coke and waving for another. As the bartender takes your glass away, you turn on the stool to peer at Jooheon, watching his back curiously as he speaks on the phone. His frame has straightened, his broad shoulders taking on a more tense position than they had been while next to you. In fact, sitting at the bar with you, he’d almost seemed comfortable—more than just confident in his surroundings, but rather it was as though he were sitting and sharing a drink with an old friend.

Your mind is reeling thanks to his words. Do you already know each other? Or had you met before? Or perhaps this was a situation that had happened before? No, surely I’d remember a random rich guy splurging some money on me… no, not even surely, you’d definitely remember something like that. As more thoughts swirl in your mind, trying to make sense of the words he’d uttered, you also find yourself beginning to wonder if something is seriously wrong with you. Kihyun had been badgering you to go to a doctor about your constant migraines, the ones that could almost be considered chronic by now—you’d written it off as just stress, telling him it was standard for the job and standard for the unlucky turn of events you were experiencing in life. Perhaps, though, it was actually more?

When Jooheon returns to the bar, phone slipping back into his jacket, you don’t even have a chance to inquire about what he’d said. In fact, you can’t even think of how to formulate the question correctly before he’s snatching the glass in your hand away from you and setting it aside.

“Hey, seriously. Slow down.” When he purses his lips, a faint hint of his dimples appear, and you can’t help but think back to your earlier thought from the night: He looks so boyish. It’s kind of cute.

“Shit,” you blurt aloud, the realization of the thought you’d just had dawning on you. Jooheon’s pursed lips quickly turn into a frown.

“What?”

“I think I’m drunk.” Why you were admitting this to him, of all people—someone you still considered a stranger, someone who was too curious about you, and someone who seemed to know something you didn’t—was beyond you.

Jooheon snorts out a small laugh. “No shit. That’s why I was telling you to slow down. Stress drinking is as bad as drinking with a broken heart, you know.”

You roll your eyes, giving your head a small shake and pushing yourself off the bar stool. You aren’t aware of the toll the alcohol has taken on you, a warmth spreading through your veins like a wildfire, overtaking you—until you find yourself unable to get a decent foothold when you stand. It becomes apparent to you, then, just how much you’d had to drink amidst your bantering with Jooheon. You fully expect to fall face first onto the floor, but instead, you’re surprised to find that Jooheon’s quick reflexes immediately have his arms snaking out to steady you, a hand grabbing at your elbow and another carefully curving around your waist.

The action brings you closer to him, pulled halfway against his chest. You blink, allowing the vertigo that has dizzied your mind in a very airy manner, one that has you feeling warm and content, to settle. Then, you glance up at him, hiccuping in surprise when you realize his proximity and just how close him and his bright brown eyes are. Something in your heart, and stomach, both stir, causing a small burst of adrenaline to push past the surface of the cloudy haze the alcohol has created and make you push him away.

“H-Hey,” he stammers in surprise, keeping an arm on your elbow firmly, refusing to let go in case you lose your balance again. “Be careful. Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine… I just…” Just what? Got nervous? Were you drunk, or did you really have feelings suddenly stirring up for this handsome stranger? If he was even that—a stranger. Nothing made sense, and it made even less sense while fuddled by alcohol. “Jooheon, do I know you?”

Jooheon blinks, meeting your gaze. But besides that simple acknowledgement of your question, he doesn’t react any further. Or rather, he doesn’t turn it into a dramatic like you had expected, mainly at him getting caught uttering those words earlier. Does this mean he’d meant for you to hear that? You’re too out of it to notice the way his eyes briefly flash, before, a half-smile more akin to a smirk pulls at one corner of his lips.

You practically freeze when Jooheon leans forward, your heart stopping in your chest. The vibrating buzz of the alcohol seems to suddenly cease, stilling to silence as Jooheon places his lips to your ear, his breath hot as he whispers, “Rather than that, the question should be—do you really not remember me?”

As he pulls away, his lips find the side of your face—your cheek—pressing a chaste kiss there before he straightens back to his full height. Your heart, suddenly, remembers how to work again and goes into overdrive. If not for his firm hand at your elbow, you’re almost certain your legs would have buckled beneath you.

Jooheon turns away from you then, and you barely register the words he speaks to someone in the distance. “Hoseok, can you take her home?”

When Jooheon turns back to you, he pulls a little white card out of his suit jacket. As he lets go of your elbow, he takes both your hands in his, folding fingers down over the white card he places in your palms and giving your hands a small squeeze. “Tell me when Hoseok gets you home safe, okay?”

You’re too dumbfounded to reply, heart beating rapidly in your chest and echoing loudly in your ears. You’re not even sure you register his words—and, unfortunately, he receives the same treatment as Kihyun the day before—you don’t remember to get the phone number off the business card and text him you made it home, or tell him to thank his bodyguard for helping you all the way up the stairs to your apartment.

Instead, the card buries itself somewhere to the bottom of your clutch, which is discarded immediately as you cross the threshold and mindlessly find your bed, a distant reminder of the events of the night that doesn’t rear its head until two weeks later.

#jooheon fanfix #monsta x fanfic #mx fanfic #jooheon scenario #jooheon imagine #m.writes

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melyaliz · 4 years

Text

Remember me pt . 8

Master List

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Summary: Bakugou has to remind his wife why she married him after she loses all her memories of them ever meeting.

Pairing: Bakugou x OC

Notes: I was thinking of maybe doing some My Hero Academia requests? Idk life seems to be slowing down a little.

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

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DONATE or REQUEST

-0-0-0-0-0--Bakugou--0-0-0-0-0-

“So what’s up with you and metalhead?” Kirishima asked as the heroes slowly rode the bus they had been given back to the large glass building. Bakugou, who had been peacefully resting, peeked an eye open glaring at the redhead who was smiling at him.

“Who?” The blonde knew who he was talking about. But he wasn't about to let Kirishima know he knew.

“The girl with the Gojra shirt.”

“Nothing.” eyes closed, head resting back angst the headrest as if that was the end of the conversation. However, with Kirishima it never was.

“You guys talked, did you get her number?”

That comment didn’t even deserve a response. Or the weird way his stomach clenched when it was asked.“No, why would I?”

“Because you like her” Kirishima poked him in the side or tried too but Bakugou swatted it away never opening his eyes.

“I don…”

“Tell me you at least you got her number.”

“Why do you care?” that one had a bit of a bite to it. A warning to back off.

“You didn’t! Bro…” disappointment lanced in the red head’s voice. As if Bakugou had just told him he was giving up on becoming number one or something. It was just some girl’s number.

“We are only here for a few more weeks--” Bakugou started to reason but was once again cut off.

“Oh look there she is, you can ask her out now.”

Bakuoug’s eyes opened looking out the window to see her talking to a few of her coworkers. Well, he assumed they were coworkers since she regularly talked to them. One of them, a guy, leaned forward annoying close to her to tell her something that made her laugh.

Something inside him made him hot. That same feeling he would get in high school when Deku would steal the spotlight. Would do something that would make everyone think he was better than he was. He wasn’t better. And neither was this guy.

As the bus stopped letting everyone out he walked out and stepped up to the group.

“Hey Olive”

She turned her face breaking into a smile as she saw him. “Hello, Bakugou. Beautiful weather isn’t it?” He knew her overly formal way of speaking was her lack of knowledge in the Japanese language but it still bothering him a little. She was obviously not a very formal person with her coworkers.

“I’m back for the weekend, I’m taking you to dinner.” Right to the point. He had never been one for small talk.

“I’m free Saturday,” she didn’t even bother asking where or when

“6 here,” he nodded. With the plans made he walked off not bothering -daring- to look back. However, he was able to catch that annoying guy ask about the interaction.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing important”

“It looked important,” one of the girls said her voice hitching in that weird squeak sound that girl would get when they were telling each other secrets.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Bakugo was dealing with two issues that were making his life a living hell.

Ok maybe that was a little dramatic but… making his life hard

One was sleeping next to Olive.

Sleeping next to someone you are physically attracted to and have had an intimate relationship with before is normally fine but as the days wear on, your body starts to crave them. It’s as if no matter how much you remind your bain it's your body that you have to fight. It knows that the warm body next to it makes it feel so good. It wants those feelings again.

And it had been a while.

in fact, besides that odd mission that took longer than it should plus healing after this might be the longest they had ever gone without having sex.

His body burned next to hers and the fact that he couldn't touch her was slowly starting to eat him alive. He kept telling himself he was stronger than this. That he could keep his sexual urges at bay but in the dark of the night where all he could do was feel the warmth of her body surrounded by her scent, it was madding.

One night she had moaned in her sleep and reached out her fingers brushing his torso. So touched starved and horney he was wide awake in seconds and so hard it was almost painful.

He was getting in a lot more late-night workouts.

Which just lead to him being more tired and grumpy. Everything seemed to irritate him now.

Which led to his second problem

Trying to get everyone to show up at the same place at the same time.

Trying to organize his old classmates was like herding cats. Not only did the conversation derail at every glimmer of an opportunity but their lives were so busy just getting that many heroes to have a few hours off was near impossible.

It could also be partly (mostly) his fault. If he was being REALLY honest with himself. (Self refection seemed to be an ongoing theme since this whole fucking issue had happened.) Bakugou may not have really wanted them to be there. He hated the idea of everyone knowing what was going on in their marriage. Their problem was unique and kind of intimate and he hated the idea that somehow he may have failed Olive.

So he was dragging his feet.

That was until she came back from therapy with puffy red eyes unable to look at him. The moment she walked into the apartment he was instatly clued in knowing something was wrong because she didn’t even greet Dolemite who came crying up to her in excitement at her being home. He could hear her mumbling something and then a soft wet laugh.

Shit.

He was looking over the reports on her case again. Pouring over each detail as if something would pop out at him. There was still nothing -besides the American angle- that seemed to link the two of them. But he couldn’t give up, if he focused harder, kept looking something would popup.

Or that was what he was telling himself until something else demanded his attention. Something much worse walked into the living room. Olive, looking completely defeated.

“Oh shit” she mumbled, catching his gaze a look of surprise on her face, “ you're not at work?”

“No, I only went in for a few hours.” he decided now was not the time to work on her Japanese. The way she looked. It made him sick. He wanted to go right over to that therapist and pound him (or her) into the ground. How dare they make Olive cry like that.

Looking away she coughed, “I’m going to wash up” she mumbled wiping the back of her hand across her face.

“Ok” he watched her go as the door closed behind her he heard her let out a choked sob. It shot through him like a bullet. Worse than any punch he had ever taken. Worse than anything he had ever felt.

He had thought it was getting better.

Apparently not.

He knew he should just leave it. Just let her work out whatever leftover emotions she was dealing with from Therapy. She obviously wanted her privacy closing the door and not making eye contact with him. But he couldn’t help it. Getting up he walked up to the door leaning against it leaning against the door. His back to it trying to see if he could hear anything.

It was muffled but her voice was loud enough fro him to catch a few phrases.

“I can’t do this Lilly” her voice was soft. “I just want to be happy. I just want to stop missing him.”

“Do you think you were the all sunshine and roses the first time around?” Lilly was obviously on speaker muffled by the door. “You need to stop putting those impossible standards on yourself”

“But I’m not just hurting, I’m hurting him too.”

Him, she meant Bakugou. He frowned, his heart pounding. She was crying because she was hurting him. As if he needed to be protected. It was almost laughable

“He’ll get over it” was Lilly’s soft voice. “He’s a big boy”

Olive let out another sob saying something about unfair and something else he couldn’t make out. Bakugou’s fists clenched angrily, feeling them grow hot small pops erupting in his hands. He didn’t care if it was planned or not, he was going to find that memory querk guy and beat him to a bloody pulp for making Olive feel like this.

His phone vibrated and he looked down to See Kirishima saying he just got off.

Letting out a low growl he shot off a text to the group,

Whoever can make it show up the rest of you losers can just die.

Olive came out 10 mins later. She had washed her face and she looked much cleaner and less, distressed. Finding Bakugou on the couch she smiled waving at him.

“So I was thinking maybe we go out for dinner? Do something fun?” she looked as if she hadn’t just been having a mental breakdown in the bedroom. All smiles and sunshine. That was his girl. A fighter, never settling for anything less than the best. Nothing could keep her down for long.

“Well good because we are meeting some people for dinner and drinks.”

This time her smile reached her face as she lit up. “Really who!?! Is it Kirishima?” she quickly switched to the Japanese trying to get in as much practice as she could.

“ Among a few others yes,”

Letting out a squeal she turned, “What would I wear? Is it a nice dinner?”

“Cute, not fancy.” walking past her he lead her back into thei bedroom. Her bouncing behind him like a puppy into their shared closet all smiles and giggles. Grabbing a black dress that he loved her in he handed it to along with a red leather jacket.

“Thank you Katsuki,” she said looking at the clothes. Nodding he turned to grab his own outfit. He could hear her rushing toward the bathroom to change and probably put some makeup on.

“You have 30 minutes to get ready” he called after her as the phone in his pocket blew up with texts on who was coming and when they would be showing up.

Let’s just get this over with. He thought as he quickly changed going out to the bedroom he jumped onto the bed looking over the texts waiting for Olive to finish up. 45 minutes later Olive appeared. He was about to give her shit for taking so long but when he saw her standing there he just about had a heart attack.

Dressed in that cute little black dress he had forgotten how good it looked on her. Hugging each curve giving just enough cleavage to show off but not enough to be scandalous. The little heeled booties make her legs look amazing.

Oh god.

Her makeup was done all smokey and her hair had a bit of a messy curl in it giving her a bit of a rocker vibe. It took all his will power to not pull her onto the bed and just take her right there.

He wanted to so badly

“Too much? ” she asked fidgetting with the hem of her leather jacket. One he had gotten for her a few months ago after watching her admire it in a shop window.

“ No, ” he said, getting up, “ let’s go. ”

“I’m kind of nervous” she mumbled following him out. Her English words clean and clear giving off her true emotions.

“ You said you wanted this, ” he said looking at her continuing in Japanese so that she could get as much practice in. Their friends English ranged from ok to nonexistent so she needed to be ready, “ And it’s not like they don’t know you.”

“I just… yeah” she muttered her gaze looking away from him. He instantly regretted teasing her.

“ These are kids from UA, all proheros now. And they like you. ” he paused fighting back a smile at the memories of her meeting them all for the first time, “ Probably more than me. ”

“I doubt that ” was her response as she bit her upper lip.

“ Stop that, ” he said, shoving her slightly with his shoulder. She turned confused. “ Worrying ,” he pointed to his lip to indicate he saw what she was doing.

“ Ok .” she nodded as they walked, their hands kept brushing finally she just reached out grabbing his. He looked down at her fingers wove into this and he felt painfully aware of how it made him feel. How he wanted to just pull her closer to him. Take her away to somewhere quiet, alone. Make her remember him. Remind her body at least of how it loved him. But he didn’t just walking with her. Feeling like they were marching toward their death sentience.

His friends better behave.

To say Bakugou had two problems was putting it lightly

-GET TAGGED-

Master List Story Tag: @0hmydeku @inumorph @it-jinxed-us @myraticm

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x oc #bakugou katsuki x reader #Katsuki bakugou x oc #bakugou x oc #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo fic #bakugou katsuki fic #my writting #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki fluff #katsuki bakugou fluff

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dvoyd · 7 years

Text

giant steaming pile of vent.

it’s hard.

it’s hard to care anymore. it’s hard to live anymore. i mean it was always hard, a struggle, fucking torture really (internally at least), but at least i always had a reason to keep going. cuz my mom wanted me to.

now, especially over the last year, something’s changed. it’s like i’ve become, more than anything just a burden on my mother. i know i always was, but i thought that i was one she was willing to take on not only because i’m her child and she loves me, but because she genuinely likes having me around and enjoys being with me

it doesn’t feel like that anymore. now i just feel like some thorn in her side. now i truly feel like i’d be better off dead, because i can’t even conjure up the genuine thought of ‘well at least my mom would miss me, at least she wants me around.’ i just feel like some fucking leech or pest-- granted i always have --but one that was enjoyed despite that, instead of just tolerated out of some... i dunno, sense of parental duty?? guilt???

these last few months have marked a sharp and dramatic decline in my emotional and mental health, due to various reasons (both online and offline), and i can’t find solace anywhere it seems. i genuinely feel that my mom wants nothing to do with me, and it’s not out of paranoia either.

not only have i observed marked and repeated differences in her attitude and desire to even spend time with me, one of the major IRL issues that has caused a severe amount of stress is that she’s been seeking a romantic partner via online dating. she didn’t even see fit to let me know about it until she was already dating a dude after a couple DAYS, and it was going very fast.

i have a ton of personal issues with this, one being that i hate my dad and have very few actual fond memories with him, two that witnessed my mom go through emotional struggles after divorcing my dad and go through dating a few guys who hurt her (i was only a little kid back then but i still recall it). three that a majority of adult males that my mom has associated with (platonically, either friends, coworkers, or like, hiring them to do work on the house / cars / etc) have tried to hit on / flirt with her multiple times, even after she gave indications she wasn’t interested, AND on top of that most of them were MARRIED. and scumbags. even just random male strangers have hit on her.

on top of all of this, i have no siblings. i was raised by a single mom. thus, i never learned how to share her; i grew dependent on her in so many ways, including emotionally, and i am incredibly possessive of her because she is one of very few people in this world that i have ever loved. she and my dad divorced when i was 3, and while i did have minimal contact with him over my childhood and adolescence, i never got emotionally close to him. my mom did briefly date a couple times after him like i said, but it just hurt her more and she stopped after that. she’s never tried since and i never really expected her to.

but she tells me that she’s not willing to live her life isolated and hidden away anymore. that she needs to be with someone romantically to be happy. basically being with me isn’t enough. i know i obviously can’t give her what she wants, but it just... hurts. especially since not only does it make me incredibly anxious and scared and angry and hurt and frustrated and all sorts of things, but also that i realized that i’ve always been willing (and i think even went with the expectation that i’d do so) to reject all romantic and sexual opportunities or potential just to be with her. maybe it’s sad, idk, idc, but thinking about it, it probably doesn’t come at that big of a loss to me because i’ve never experienced either of those things to begin with. i’ve never had sex, and i’ve never dated or had a romantic partner. hell i’ve never even been on a DATE.

now the whole dating thing happened like a month ago and it ended up ending like a week later because when she met him irl she didn’t feel the same chemistry that she did on the phone or computer, but she’s still determined to find someone else. but to make shit even worse and all the more terrifying, my very life hinges on whatever schmuck she picks. she was willing, as i overheard her tell one of her sisters on the phone, to literally pack up her bags and move to wherever that one guy wanted to go. AFTER JUST A FEW DAYS OF TALKING TO HIM.

like i understand that she wants to be happy and even though she cares about me, my being in her life isn’t going to stop her from fulfilling whatever else she needs in her life. like, i’m obviously not going to like or enjoy it, but i’m aware that i either have to put up with it or gtfo. but the fact that she’s willing to pull the rug out from under my feet for some guy she met on the internet (that she claims she had this ‘soulmate’ kind of connection with, yet apparently it only works over the phone/computer, smh) after just a couple days??

you cannot say that you love and care about me and what i think/feel and yet are willing to give me the proverbial middle finger like that. i’m aware that i’m 25 and her parental obligations to me ended the day i turned 18 but holy fuck. that’s just cruel. (not to mention i’m disabled even if the state won’t fucking acknowledge it and have mental + physical illnesses that aren’t all diagnosed because doctors are assholes and want to shove medicine down your throat rather than help you.)

so after having a huge emotional meltdown like a week or two ago over this and the fight we had over it which we never really resolved, on top of other drama (again both IRL and online), basically this whole summer has been a depressing and anxiety-ridden shitfest that has crushed whatever positive growth i managed over the last few years concerning my mental health, because i have suicidal thoughts and urges prominently and daily (i say prominently cuz i technically always have suicidal thoughts, yay depression, but they’re kinda ‘muted’ and in the background and basically get pushed under the rug, thus never acted upon) and my physical health is feeling it too.

i’ve been admitted to the hospital 3 times for suicidal + homicidal ideation / attempts, but all 3 were when i was an adolescent. obviously i’ve had plenty of ideation since, and i did have attempts after as an adult, but the last one no one even knew about (it obv didn’t work), i tried to overdose, but it basically gave me a pseudo-stomach flu (throwing up, nausea, dizziness, etc) and that’s what my mom thought i got until i told her what i did. promised her i wouldn’t do it again which is why she didn’t report it.

but now i’m an adult so that means i’d go to the adult unit and that my mom has no weight in the decision of getting me in or out, though that just assumes i’m unsuccessful. i’ve had enough attempts by now to p much know what it’ll take, and even though i promised my mom i wouldn’t

at this point it is clear i’m nothing more than a burden. that’s not anything more than the reality. i’m 25, no job, no job HISTORY or experience, mentally ill and disabled...

like, my potential in life is gone. it passed me by a while ago. i lost it. i tried to make things better, i tried to get help. i went through a program that was supposed to help people like me GET experience and get a job, but then my mom’s work changed their insurance (which is my mom’s insurance, and through her, mine as well) and the program didn’t accept that insurance. so i had to stop going literally right after i finished the registration process :))) 3 fucking days of filling out paperwork and having to sit there and wait and listen to old people and be in uncomfortable situations, all for nothing

the job market is shit. the pay is nowhere near what a ‘living wage’ actually is, as plenty of millennials can tell you. i’ve submitted tons of applications in the past, and only once have i ever gotten a call back for an interview, went to said interview and got an email back like a week later and was denied. this was for an entry level job at a fucking turkey hill, to basically be a CASHIER or similar. like?? if i can’t get accepted for that lmao.......

basically what is the point in putting myself through more suffering? at least a year or two ago it felt like i was suffering for a reason, or that i had a chance. what do i honestly and realistically have to look forward to?

world war 3?

yeah no thanks

#don't read it if you don't want a huge long post of whining and depressing bs #skyler rants #personal #long post #suicide /#negative /#del

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