After the curtains close is the rockstar!hongjoong x manager!reader fic that i’m working on🤭
-specifically bratty hongjoong who complains about everything and teases the reader a lot in hopes that the reader will finally realize he’s head over fucking heels and just wants to be fucked dumb😇
this is pretty shit because it is the first draft, but what i got so far (minus the smut bc y'all will see that later)😏
–
After the curtains close:
The small bar is packed to the brim.
People lounge about, taking, drinking, laughing, whatever to pass time before the show actually starts.
Tables are full and stools on the counter are occupied. They had been for hours. All in anticipation for this.
To those who gotten in early-but not early enough, they pulled up a chair from the back and to those who came exactly on time suffered with standing.
Not that many stayed seated for long.
It was formality really. The lights would dim until the room was nearly blank and a low hum would fill the room in anticipation before the curtains would open. People would scramble to shove their seats off the floor, eager to start a kind of small concert in the cramped area.
And it’s all because of him.
Kim fucking Hongjoong.
In all of your time at working in this business you’d never seen anything like this. His shows, his music or his performances.
Never seen anything like him, really.
Fuck, he made your job a million times harder but you weren’t complaining in the least; well, that was a lie. You complained a lot but meant a lot less than what you’d say. After all, you had fought tooth and nail for this job to work with him and his band.
Because he was…amazing, from lack of a better word and said with the upmost admiration.
Able to put the large mass of people into a hush with a single movement. A ringed finger pressed against his plush lips.
Not a single word uttered and yet the room was dead silent.
Eyes glued to him, bodies tense with anticipation, breath quickened and heart rates elevated, the finger falling down as his lips curl up into something mischievous.
You stopped mid-sip from where you’ve sat at the bar for at least an hour now. The glass forgotten, set on the counter beside you.
The woman beside you gasped obnoxiously loud, breaking the silence for a second, the rooms attention on her for a fraction of a moment before it was back on him. And you couldn’t blame her because, hell, he really was something else. Commanding the crowd like no other show you’d seen here-or anywhere else in years.
You were just as bad as her, if not, worse. Only able to keep composure from how many shows you’ve seen by now. Fully captivated by all that was him.
How could you not? With the way he smirked lightly, his lip ring glittering as the lights come up just enough to see the jewelry sparkle in the dark.
A loud flash and the spotlight shines on him and only him. The silence pierced through by a beginning rhythm from the drums.
His foot tapping onto the floor is the only moving thing visible in the room. Breath caught in throats, eyes unblinking, not willing to miss a single second.
Then the guitars kick in and the show has begun. Hongjoong brings the mic up, holding it close to his face, so close it brushes over his lips.
The first time in your life you think you’ve ever been jealous of an inanimate object. The first time you feel genuine envy for something incapable of emotions.
But it makes sense because it’s Kim Hongjoong and how could you not?
He’s gorgeous and he knows it.
He winks at someone in the crowd, dragging his teeth over his lips with a sly smile. All of the people within vicinity swoon, hoping by some kind of miracle that it was to them.
He must know with the way his hips move, rhythmically swishing the skirt that hangs over the skin that you’d kill to feel.
He definitely knows the way the crowd adores him when consequently his body fluidly moves, trying to be smooth with what seems practiced precision but instead comes out jerkily, like a jolt runs up his body and for only a second he goes tense. He plays it off well enough; not well enough for you not to see but enough that most of the crowd doesn’t seem to notice, continuing on as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips.
It happens a few more times and you try to spot an injury, a snag that’s causing the issue but there’s nothing. Nothing that you can see and nothing that he’s making obvious enough for anyone else to notice.
After all, they’re all too busy watching the performance itself.
His eyes flick around the room, and when they finally meet your own, for a second the room melts away, completely empty except for you and him and the music.
You could only wish.
His attention shifts quickly, his sights moving to someone closer to the stage presumably as his part of the song begins.
He loses himself in the music. In the passion. In the wild movements and the pounding of the large speakers on either side of the stage, people screaming their admiration for him and feeling of everything else in the world disappearing.
It leaves behind something raw and authentic and powerful for the audience to drink in.
And it awes each and every one of them.
It’s what pulls in people who’d never entered the pub before, the ‘good’ citizens that couldn’t be caught in a bar. The drunks and the regulars, and the sober and the unfamiliar.
They’ve all come for him. For his breathtaking show and soul capturing presence.
From watching him for so long, from attending so many of his shows and appreciating each and every one you could clearly see the steady rise of people coming in, the ones who were recommended by a friend or saw an ad.
He deserves it. Deserves each and every eye glued to him and every heart he’s stolen.
Sure, there was the rest of his band, all of them quite able to hold their own, having there own fair share of eyes and stolen hearts. All gaining their own kind of attention from the crowd.
But he sure as hell had yours. Because no matter how hard you tried to tear you gaze from him, no matter how hard you tried to enjoy the rest of the members it seemed like every time your eyes simply gravitated back to him.
It was almost pathetic the way you watched him.
And even worse, the little shit knew it.
—
It felt as if the performance ended all too soon.
The performers giving a timed enough bow that you knew they must’ve practiced it several times.
You swirled the drink in your glass several times before you downed it all in a single gulp.
Hongjoong looked slightly embarrassed now that the show was over. Cheeks flushed but that was also probably from the adrenaline coursing through him.
“Thank you all for coming!” He sounded sweeter this time, smiling brightly. A contrast from his entrance to the stage.
That was him, his stage persona something much different than how he really was. But he continued to rile up the crowd all the while with waves and thank you’s for coming tonight, winking and making them promise that they’d come see him next time too.
Smiles and cheers and people shouting encore rang through the bar for several minutes even after the curtain fell.
You paid your tab, thanking the bartender before standing up.
The woman next to you, the one who’d gasped still looked starstruck, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
“They really have an effect don’t they?” You smiled to her.
“Yeah,” she breathed, “that was amazing. My friend told me I should come tonight because for them but I didn’t realize how good a bar band could be.”
Your smile back at her turned slightly stiff. “Mhmm, they’re something else…something special.”
You leaned against the counter as the bartender pushed a drink in her direction and she took a contemplative sip.
“I really liked the main guy. I don’t know what his name is but the one in the center with the skirt.”
“Ah, Hongjoong,” you glanced over to the door to the backstage, where one of the staff beckoned you over.
“Yeah, he has that effect on people, couldn’t take your eyes off of him, could you?” You turned to the bartender. “A bottle of your best stuff, the boys deserve a little treat tonight after doing so well, don’t you think?”
“Do you know them?” She still sat in front of you, arms on the counter as she leaned in closer.
“Um, I guess? From time to time y’know?” A lie. Wasn’t like she’d know that though.
“Could you maybe introduce me to him-what’s his name, that guy?”
You lifted an eyebrow, looking for the easiest way to tell her no without seeming rude.
Your boss told you that you needed to lighten up after telling off several fans who’d asked for any one of the band’s number or to be introduced.
“Sorry, I don’t know them that well, I just drop off a drink to the staff sometimes and they hand it over.”
With that, you sighed, taking the bottle from the tender. “Got somewhere to be now, hope you see you again sometime!” Another lie.
You made your way to the back, slipping past the break room and into the backstage area.
They were all still packing up, as loud as they were after every show, the adrenaline rush coming down.
“Hey y/n!” San chirped with a smile, alerting all of the other boys of your presence.
“Hey guys!”
You ignored their clamouring, setting some cups down on a case, “celebratory drinks anyone? You all played really good tonight!”
Wooyoung dropped everything what he was doing, eager do grab a glass of whatever you were pouring.
“You say that we did great every time, you’re beginning to make me think you just say that.” He laughed, grabbing a drink and chirping out a quick thank you.
“Well maybe that’s because you play good every time.”
Slowly they all finished up what they were doing and came over for a drink, clinking cups together as you praised everything about their performance.
But the only one you were actually watching hadn’t come over yet.
–
imrllytootiredforthis
wonhosmistress
ipegchangbin
