Your Number One Fan
[Title] Your Number One Fan
[Pairing] Hongki (FTIsland) x Jonghyun (SHINee)
[Rating] Light R
[Genre] Um. I dunno. Adoration with a bit of sex at the end?
[Word Count] 1,519
[Author's Note] I wrote this after watching SHINee and FTI's performance on MNet. Jonghyun looks like he has better places to be; he just kind of just stands there during FTIsland'sperformance. So I thought, what if Jonghyun was a secret FTI fan, but he didn't want anyone to know? Moreover, what if he was a secret Hongki fan?
Anyway, fic time :)
Ever since the summer of 2007, Jonghyun has been a closet FTIsland fan. He loves their music, their lyrics, their natural sound. Part of him thinks he likes their music so much because he can remember what it’s like to be in a band, and sometimes he misses the sound of performing with a live band. Sometimes, he finds himself strumming along to FTIsland’s songs on an air bass, remembering the weight of the instrument on his shoulder and the way the fret board fit perfectly in his hand. He remembers the raw sound of instruments blending together, the melodies created from their very own fingers weaving together to create music. It wasn’t that long ago he himself stood on a stage with his bass slung over his shoulder, fingers flying over the strings, and that, he tells himself, is why he feels such fondness for FTIsland’s music. That is why he puts their album on repeat on his iPod while trying to get to sleep at night, memories of teenage years playing across his mind, thoughts of what could have been bringing him just a hint of sadness.
That’s what he tells himself, anyway. He refuses to admit to himself that there are other rock bands out there with heavier sounds that reach the level of ‘rock’ better than FTIsland does. He also doesn’t tell himself that their lead vocalist has no right to be attracting his gaze when Jaejin is the one holding his instrument of choice. He doesn’t tell himself any of these things because he enjoys believing that it’s simply their music that speaks to him, that makes him reflect on his short life and wonder where he could have done things differently, and not that he thinks he might be developing interest in the way Hongki’s black-tipped fingers curl suggestively around the microphone.
But he can’t, and doesn’t try to, explain the way he notices minute details about the older boy that he shouldn’t be taking notice of, from the way he smiles playfully at his band mates to the way he taps his foot to the beat of their more upbeat songs; from the way his eyes reflect the emotion of the song he’s singing to how his mouth moves against the microphone while he sings it. Certainly not, because it’s the music, the delicate interlacing of guitar, bass, and drum, accented by deep vocals, that makes his blood run hot and his heart beat too fast and too hard.
And he certainly doesn’t notice the way his jeans get suddenly tight while not imagining what it would feel like to have Hongki’s mouth breathing hot against his ear while those hands hold his hips in a firm grip.
The hardest part about not noticing all these things is noticing how Hongki doesn’t seem to even care about Shinee’s existence. He gets this idea from the way Hongki brushes past him with barely a glance in his direction after Shinee bows and congratulates them on a job well done after performances. He also gets this impression in the way Hongki’s usually expressionate eyes turn cold when his gaze finally does rest on the younger, newer group, and how his greetings are kept short and to the point. Jonghyun doesn’t understand why Hongki dislikes them so much, but he notices that it is only Hongki who seems to feel this way, seeing as how the rest of his band smiles back and nods their heads in acknowledgement.
“Hongki-ssi,” Jonghyun asks tentatively one day when he and the older boy are standing backstage preparing for rehearsal for the upcoming performances. He tells himself he cares enough to ask because he loves FTIsland’s music and that he wants to be able to listen to it without wondering why the vocalist would hate him so much. “What do you have against us?”
Hongki’s dark eyes look sideways at him with that same uncaring glare he always uses when eyeing him, and it’s several long moments before he finally speaks. “The truth?”
Jonghyun nods, wondering why Hongki would think he would want anything but the truth, but he figures he’s already walking on thin ice by merely bringing Hongki’s attention to him, so he keeps this question to himself.
“You guys act like stuck up pricks,” he says in a very firm tone that says to Jonghyun he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, and one of those black fingernails is just getting ready to press the play button on the iPod, when Jonghyun stops him.
“But you don’t even know us,” he replies, not caring what kind of cold treatment he’s going to earn himself, because he is offended and he wants to know exactly why Hongki thinks he has the right to believe he is a stuck up prick.
He shrugs. “Ignorance is bliss.”
“You know,” Jonghyun says, trying to make his voice as strong and unfeeling as Hongki’s, but he knows it is shaking with the faintest trace of nerves at what he’s about to say, “I’ve been a fan of yours since you debuted.” He wonders if the double entendre is obvious.
Hongki looks at him again, one eyebrow raised as though in question. “Really now.”
He isn’t sure what he had been expecting - possibly a disbelieving glare or an irate eye roll - but since Hongki doesn’t get upset, or go back to ignoring him, he decides to take advantage of the situation. “Yeah,” he says, still trying to maintain his nonchalant attitude that he’s sure has already been seen through. “I really like your style.”
“Hn,” Hongki grunts softly, hand falling away from his iPod and, if he isn’t mistaken, which he may very well be, lips lifting in the barest of smirks. “Is that right.” Jonghyun isn’t sure if it’s a question or a statement. “You know,” he says, taking a step closer to Jonghyun, still not turning his body entirely towards him, and Jonghyun is sure now that he’s smirking, but he can’t completely tell because in just a moment Hongki is leaning over and speaking directly in his ear. “I’ve been a fan of yours since debut.”
His breath is hot against his ear, whispered and hot and everything Jonghyun has ever imagined it would be, and he knows all self-control is gone when he reaches up to grab at the collar of Hongki’s shirt, fisting the material tightly and pulling him in until their mouths are crushed against each other’s, not a thought about what he’s doing or the possible consequences. He isn’t given time to come back to his senses or be horrified at what he’s done because Hongki’s mouth is pressing back and back and he realizes that Hongki is pushing him back against the wall, into a dark corner behind a stack of boxes and he’s sure there’s something wrong with this scenario but it just feels too right, especially when fingertips are gripping his side and it’s exactly how he’d imagined. Soft, guttural sounds escape his throat as Hongki’s fingers follow the thin trail of dark hair from around his navel down to the waistband of his pants, and the older boy pulls away to laugh against his lips.
“Not too loud now,” he says quietly, cautiously, almost nervously, and Jonghyun doesn’t know how it happened but he feels those fingers lower now, lower, past his now unbuckled belt, curling around him in much the same way they do his microphone, and the mere mental image is enough to have his hips jerking against the hand holding him steady. His shoulders tense and his stomach clenches, and with just a few simple strokes, Hongki has Jonghyun writhing against the wall, shaking hands clutching at the front of his shirt, small whimpers of need breathed through gritted teeth. He feels lips pressing firmly on the taut muscles of his neck, against his pulse, and he can’t think, doesn’t know what to do, and he knows he isn’t going to last long when Hongki moves faster, faster-
And he comes with a low groan, to soon for his own liking, trying to keep his uneven breathing quiet as he rests his head back against the wall. Those black-tipped fingers are gone now, no longer touching him, and he feels his shirt lift slightly and knows that Hongki is wiping his hand off on it. He opens his eyes as Hongki hooks his fingers into his belt loops, occasionally - if Jonghyun’s senses aren’t failing him - lets his knuckles linger against the skin directly below his bellybutton. Then the belt buckle’s back on and it’s over. No words are exchanged as Hongki waits for Jonghyun to be able to breath normally again, for him to get his face back to its normal tan instead of the flushed red it was, but he can read the expression in his eyes.
Perhaps not friendship, but respect. Recognition. No more cold shoulder. And possibly a promise of next time.
So maybe it isn’t just their music he likes FTIsland for. But he’s sure it has something to do with it.
[Pairing] Hongki (FTIsland) x Jonghyun (SHINee)
[Rating] Light R
[Genre] Um. I dunno. Adoration with a bit of sex at the end?
[Word Count] 1,519
[Author's Note] I wrote this after watching SHINee and FTI's performance on MNet. Jonghyun looks like he has better places to be; he just kind of just stands there during FTIsland'sperformance. So I thought, what if Jonghyun was a secret FTI fan, but he didn't want anyone to know? Moreover, what if he was a secret Hongki fan?
Anyway, fic time :)
Ever since the summer of 2007, Jonghyun has been a closet FTIsland fan. He loves their music, their lyrics, their natural sound. Part of him thinks he likes their music so much because he can remember what it’s like to be in a band, and sometimes he misses the sound of performing with a live band. Sometimes, he finds himself strumming along to FTIsland’s songs on an air bass, remembering the weight of the instrument on his shoulder and the way the fret board fit perfectly in his hand. He remembers the raw sound of instruments blending together, the melodies created from their very own fingers weaving together to create music. It wasn’t that long ago he himself stood on a stage with his bass slung over his shoulder, fingers flying over the strings, and that, he tells himself, is why he feels such fondness for FTIsland’s music. That is why he puts their album on repeat on his iPod while trying to get to sleep at night, memories of teenage years playing across his mind, thoughts of what could have been bringing him just a hint of sadness.
That’s what he tells himself, anyway. He refuses to admit to himself that there are other rock bands out there with heavier sounds that reach the level of ‘rock’ better than FTIsland does. He also doesn’t tell himself that their lead vocalist has no right to be attracting his gaze when Jaejin is the one holding his instrument of choice. He doesn’t tell himself any of these things because he enjoys believing that it’s simply their music that speaks to him, that makes him reflect on his short life and wonder where he could have done things differently, and not that he thinks he might be developing interest in the way Hongki’s black-tipped fingers curl suggestively around the microphone.
But he can’t, and doesn’t try to, explain the way he notices minute details about the older boy that he shouldn’t be taking notice of, from the way he smiles playfully at his band mates to the way he taps his foot to the beat of their more upbeat songs; from the way his eyes reflect the emotion of the song he’s singing to how his mouth moves against the microphone while he sings it. Certainly not, because it’s the music, the delicate interlacing of guitar, bass, and drum, accented by deep vocals, that makes his blood run hot and his heart beat too fast and too hard.
And he certainly doesn’t notice the way his jeans get suddenly tight while not imagining what it would feel like to have Hongki’s mouth breathing hot against his ear while those hands hold his hips in a firm grip.
The hardest part about not noticing all these things is noticing how Hongki doesn’t seem to even care about Shinee’s existence. He gets this idea from the way Hongki brushes past him with barely a glance in his direction after Shinee bows and congratulates them on a job well done after performances. He also gets this impression in the way Hongki’s usually expressionate eyes turn cold when his gaze finally does rest on the younger, newer group, and how his greetings are kept short and to the point. Jonghyun doesn’t understand why Hongki dislikes them so much, but he notices that it is only Hongki who seems to feel this way, seeing as how the rest of his band smiles back and nods their heads in acknowledgement.
“Hongki-ssi,” Jonghyun asks tentatively one day when he and the older boy are standing backstage preparing for rehearsal for the upcoming performances. He tells himself he cares enough to ask because he loves FTIsland’s music and that he wants to be able to listen to it without wondering why the vocalist would hate him so much. “What do you have against us?”
Hongki’s dark eyes look sideways at him with that same uncaring glare he always uses when eyeing him, and it’s several long moments before he finally speaks. “The truth?”
Jonghyun nods, wondering why Hongki would think he would want anything but the truth, but he figures he’s already walking on thin ice by merely bringing Hongki’s attention to him, so he keeps this question to himself.
“You guys act like stuck up pricks,” he says in a very firm tone that says to Jonghyun he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, and one of those black fingernails is just getting ready to press the play button on the iPod, when Jonghyun stops him.
“But you don’t even know us,” he replies, not caring what kind of cold treatment he’s going to earn himself, because he is offended and he wants to know exactly why Hongki thinks he has the right to believe he is a stuck up prick.
He shrugs. “Ignorance is bliss.”
“You know,” Jonghyun says, trying to make his voice as strong and unfeeling as Hongki’s, but he knows it is shaking with the faintest trace of nerves at what he’s about to say, “I’ve been a fan of yours since you debuted.” He wonders if the double entendre is obvious.
Hongki looks at him again, one eyebrow raised as though in question. “Really now.”
He isn’t sure what he had been expecting - possibly a disbelieving glare or an irate eye roll - but since Hongki doesn’t get upset, or go back to ignoring him, he decides to take advantage of the situation. “Yeah,” he says, still trying to maintain his nonchalant attitude that he’s sure has already been seen through. “I really like your style.”
“Hn,” Hongki grunts softly, hand falling away from his iPod and, if he isn’t mistaken, which he may very well be, lips lifting in the barest of smirks. “Is that right.” Jonghyun isn’t sure if it’s a question or a statement. “You know,” he says, taking a step closer to Jonghyun, still not turning his body entirely towards him, and Jonghyun is sure now that he’s smirking, but he can’t completely tell because in just a moment Hongki is leaning over and speaking directly in his ear. “I’ve been a fan of yours since debut.”
His breath is hot against his ear, whispered and hot and everything Jonghyun has ever imagined it would be, and he knows all self-control is gone when he reaches up to grab at the collar of Hongki’s shirt, fisting the material tightly and pulling him in until their mouths are crushed against each other’s, not a thought about what he’s doing or the possible consequences. He isn’t given time to come back to his senses or be horrified at what he’s done because Hongki’s mouth is pressing back and back and he realizes that Hongki is pushing him back against the wall, into a dark corner behind a stack of boxes and he’s sure there’s something wrong with this scenario but it just feels too right, especially when fingertips are gripping his side and it’s exactly how he’d imagined. Soft, guttural sounds escape his throat as Hongki’s fingers follow the thin trail of dark hair from around his navel down to the waistband of his pants, and the older boy pulls away to laugh against his lips.
“Not too loud now,” he says quietly, cautiously, almost nervously, and Jonghyun doesn’t know how it happened but he feels those fingers lower now, lower, past his now unbuckled belt, curling around him in much the same way they do his microphone, and the mere mental image is enough to have his hips jerking against the hand holding him steady. His shoulders tense and his stomach clenches, and with just a few simple strokes, Hongki has Jonghyun writhing against the wall, shaking hands clutching at the front of his shirt, small whimpers of need breathed through gritted teeth. He feels lips pressing firmly on the taut muscles of his neck, against his pulse, and he can’t think, doesn’t know what to do, and he knows he isn’t going to last long when Hongki moves faster, faster-
And he comes with a low groan, to soon for his own liking, trying to keep his uneven breathing quiet as he rests his head back against the wall. Those black-tipped fingers are gone now, no longer touching him, and he feels his shirt lift slightly and knows that Hongki is wiping his hand off on it. He opens his eyes as Hongki hooks his fingers into his belt loops, occasionally - if Jonghyun’s senses aren’t failing him - lets his knuckles linger against the skin directly below his bellybutton. Then the belt buckle’s back on and it’s over. No words are exchanged as Hongki waits for Jonghyun to be able to breath normally again, for him to get his face back to its normal tan instead of the flushed red it was, but he can read the expression in his eyes.
Perhaps not friendship, but respect. Recognition. No more cold shoulder. And possibly a promise of next time.
So maybe it isn’t just their music he likes FTIsland for. But he’s sure it has something to do with it.