WIHYUNED .

mun info .

name/alias: eun age: 21+ pronouns: she, her, hers timezone: kst discord: just ask me! little trivia fact about yourself: i function on min 6 cups of coffee every day

character info .

character name: hyun woorim age: thirty, 30 zodiac sign: capricorn group/band/position: founder & editor-in-chief of RiTZ info links or quick points about your character: stats / bio / headcanons

despised music until he went to college / before woorim was born, his father used to be a hotshot, famous songwriter, but later got exposed (framed? who knows) for plagiarism, which ended up fragmenting his family (father, a sad alcoholic, and mother, an overworked pediatrics nurse)  

used to be a real mama’s boy until she passed away bc of breast cancer when he was in high school / relied on his older brother a lot, who married off into a rich family + works for a conglomerate company (subtle inferiority complex)

attended hongik university, but not much interest in studying / main focus was his girl and later, RiTZ magazine that eventually blew up

the girl he met in college aka the reason why he started to love music (and started RiTZ!)

breakup burned him but the magazine got famous so who’s the real loser here 

tldr on personality ; cunning, selfish, ambitious, insensitive, methodical, charismatic ; he’s quick-witted and good with his words, a real sweet-talker, and can be extremely persuasive when he wants to 

hates being looked down upon and disrespected, and fully (with emphasis, fully) enjoys the power the magazine allows him to hold in the hongdae scene / it’s always fun for him to see desperation scurry up to him in human form and ask for a little praise

but all in all, everything bad (and good) about him makes him a good boss / organized down to a t and fiercely protective of his own employees unless they cross him

and he’s honest (to some extent) when it comes to his reviews / if you’re good, then he’ll tell you, you’re good ; just don’t be bad  

plots or any development you’d like to see for your character 

definitely the past ex who’s a musician, the heroine of his “i now love music” story! he was 22 when he met her and in college / she can be younger than him, but only by (max) 3 years

and other exes like from high school or maybe that three-month relationship he probably had after his heroine (that crashed and burned terribly) 

someone from RiTZ who helped out with the magazine since the very beginning and saw it take off

musicians/artists/fashion designers who consistently keep trying to catch his attention maybe they have something they can trade for a little praise in the magazine, like secrets or bought time?

a stalker-ish fan (or just plain stalker) would be fun ngl 

antagonistic relationships / always a sucker for angst and with a personality like his, it’s easy to make enemies, esp during first impressions

an ongoing or future love line(s) / he def has commitment issues but is too easily reeled in when he gets hooked on someone (and wears his heart on his sleeve in front of the person he’s fond of)

that one person woorim actually takes care of (despite him emphasizing independence) / like, are you going to burn the house down, and do you need him to cook? are you stuck in a dangerous part of town, and do you need him to pick you up? 

he’s a good fighter / maybe he saved your ass one time a few years back, and you’re one of the few people that’s seen him without all the power-hungry, insensitive facade 

would also love a one-sided crush thing !! which woorim fully knows about, doesn’t reciprocate, but never really cuts off bc he loves the manipulation and the attention

this can also go the other way, with him having his tongue and heart in a twist and he absolutely hates it

(...)

She wants to tell Woorim about all the useless things between then and now. How sometimes he grandmother still asks about him, how she didn’t have the heart tell her about the break up until months after the fact. How even in his absence the invisible impressions of Woorim’s fingertips still mar her skin. Amanda wants to tell him that she misses him, but the words never find her.

“Would you mind giving me a ride home?” She says nothing in place of everything. Looks up at him through her lashes before finding something else to look at. It’s the rejection she fears, she swears, just the potential for rejection.

Facebook Story ft. @wihyuned

it's a stunning replica of way back when. him seated at the center of the bar, her positioned at the corner of the room. his fingers gripping the slim neck of a half-empty martini glass, hers wrapped around her own arms, protection in the face of the over-confident sleaze. she maintains a defensive stance but he knows better; amanda could take him if she wanted to, but she never does. and she never had. 

because before their break up, she’d had no reason to fend for herself, not with woorim in close proximity, eyes burning holes into the heads of every guy that stared at her for a little too long.

he knows that he really shouldn’t care. what of it if she exits the bar with a different guy on her arm? it’s not as if he has a say in whatever she does, not anymore. the days when she’d needed his saving, for him to hang his arm off her shoulders in a manner that screamed mine, were all dead history. remnants of poached feelings for a year and a half. memories that he preferred not to relive, ones that were kept buried in a box deep in the back of his closet, along with crumpled photographs, lunchbox letters, a note from her grandmother that he hadn’t had the heart to toss out. he could just keep drinking his alcohol, just walk away. he should walk away.

and yet, everything about the uncomfortable exchange between amanda and the damned persistent fucker somehow still bothers him. it’s not love. call it a habit, if you must, but it’s definitely not love. it’s just... maybe some things don’t fade. or maybe, maybe there’s a part of him that still cares, the remaining 0.1%.

before he can stop himself, his drink is abandoned and he’s taking wider and wider strides to the man that has her cornered. a rough hand, a firm push, and a few words has him leaving the scene; hands stuck in pockets, woorim freezes for the slightest of seconds, realizing that he’s probably just overstepped a boundary. fuck. if he had been more inebriated, he might’ve been able to blame the booze, but doing that now would only be him lying to himself. 

like amanda was doing now. woorim scoffs, but not unkindly, at her first comment. “right,” he drags out the syllable. disbelief layered in such a short word. he always had been best at catching her lies (and even better at pretending to be fooled). “i’ll make sure not to step in next time.” 

stupid thing to say. almost makes it sound as if he’d done it on purpose, when it had been more of an instinct. an instant reaction to a perceived threat. and woorim wants to say, you have to take better care of yourself. i’m not always going to be around. you made sure of that. 

but he doesn’t. he’s sure she hates him enough already. 

instead, woorim just shakes his head. to say that he doesn’t mind giving her a ride home. to say that for now, for at least tonight, she can trust him to be here. throwing his leather jacket over her exposed shoulders in a haphazard manner (it’d be too much to settle it lightly and zip it up like he used to), he pays his bill, then gestures for her to follow him out the door.