[1147]
pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader
synopsis: in which wonwoo puts the fate of his million dollar entertainment company in the hands of a struggling author.
genre: idk - not really fluff or angst, implied E2L, entertainment ceo!wonwoo, author!reader
warnings: profanity . . . wonwoo is purposely presented as a prick but he's not actually :3
wc: 628
a/n: i don't know what this is either.
. . . .
“Maybe you were never meant to write stories,” he says, matter-of-factly. He tosses her thin, unfinished manuscript to the side as if it was nothing more than a scrap to be recycled.
She makes a mental note to fire her editor for sharing her work without her permission to some asshole producer, director, or whatever the fuck Wonwoo was, in the corrupt music industry. This has to be some breach of contract.
She frowns, cocking her head in curiosity. A thread of disappointment lacing her tone, though still curious, she asks slowly, “Then what do you think I was meant to do?”
Wonwoo slides over a yellow legal pad and a gold-plated fountain pen. It looked like the good, expensive kind you didn’t lend to just anyone; the kind you use because you’re a prick trying to show off your wealth.
Her eyes flicker up to meet his own, silently asking if he was sure he wants her filthy hands on it.
“Music,” Wonwoo chirps.
“Music?” she repeats.
She sputters, almost laughing in his face in disbelief.
She didn’t know a lick about notes, let alone did she sing or even play an instrument.
He nods only once, but it is firm and sure.
“Lyrics to be more specific,” he explains further, “A sliver of your dream, a fleeting thought, maybe a bitter feeling that’s been lingering for the past few days – I want it.”
“You do realize, I can hardly even finish a short story, right?” she seethes. Her heart races, awaiting for Steve Harvey to pop out from behind the door with clowns and party poppers, shouting that all of this was a joke.
“But isn’t that the beauty of music?” he asks.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
She stands from her seat, the back of her knees knocking against the course netting. Her hands grazing along the back of the chairs, she rounds the corner of the conference table and takes hesitant steps towards him.
Wonwoo is nonchalant as ever, simply picking up his pen, clicking the back end, letting the silver piece hover the paper for a moment before scrawling down a few words in his typical chicken-scratch that he deemed as neat.
Wonwoo looks back up, offering a lopsided, wistful smile as he waits for her to read the page.
Blue.
Immediately, her brows furrow and throw him a confused expression.
“What –”
“You have 24 hours,” Wonwoo stands and pulls a laptop from the chair next to him. He slides it over to her, then opting to shove his hands into the pockets of his suit. “The internet, this notepad, and,” he picks up his fountain pen and wags it in front of her, “My lucky pen at your disposal. Write one song, and if I like it, you’re hired.”
“This is fucking insane,” she says a little breathlessly.
He scoffs. “I am, but the best ideas come out from being insane, don’t they?”
Wonwoo adjusts the buttons of his suit and gives her a small bow, quietly excusing himself.
She spins around and shouts after him, “And if I walk out right now?”
“5,000,000 won for your first song,” he explains sternly. He has the gall to add, “I heard rent is due tomorrow and the kitchen faucet in your apartment has been a little leaky too.”
With that, he stalks off, slamming the conference room door behind him. Her eyes track him through the clear floor-to-ceiling glass walls. He paid no mind, walking towards the other end of the floor at a leisurely pace as if he didn’t just leave the fate of his best artist in her mediocre hands.
Jeon Wonwoo is merely going insane to stay sane.
He had a business to run after all.
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here's your fucking feedback @staff
list of problems the removal of icons causes:
i cant see my friends
ruins the sense of community
can't tell at a glance who's online right now and what they're interested in
literally cannot tell without scrolling back up who put a post on my dash if it has a single addition attached to it. or like. 2 paragraphs in the op.
i cant click my own icon at the top of the dash to quickly view my own blog
can't tell who someone used to be if they change their username
squashes the margins between the menu and posts, making the whole dash feel more cramped
ruins the quick visual cue of how long each post is and where it ends when you're trying to scroll past ones youve seen before
people put a lot of creativity and individuality into icons, and now i never see them
makes people who primarily reblog instead of make their own posts all but completely disappear
list of problems solved by removing icons:
?????
who the fuck was asking for this
ive never in my life seen a website or app that has profile pics forcibly HIDE them, so i guess you did it you made the dash unique again in the worst way
here's some more feedback: maybe when you run an a/b test you should, idk, actually have a feedback form people can fill out about it somewhere
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