all vixx pairings 10 sentence meme day 8: leo/hongbin
angst: "who’d want to kiss another guy?“ taekwoon mutters as the slip of paper drifts to the floor between them, and hongbin smiles and laughs in agreement until he thinks his face might crack at the seams.
au: it’s jaehwan who introduces them, "my two pro athlete friends!”, not seeming to care that they don’t play the same league or even the same sport.
crack/humor:round eyes (double eyelids), taekwoon checks off, tall (180-185 cm), long hair (wavy), dimples (both cheeks), baritone voice, and, after a furtive glance around to make sure no one’s watching, 6-pack abs, then hastily clicks ‘add to cart’ and sighs in relief when the banner pops up: thank you for ordering from kronos heaven!
future fic: "isn’t it funny that taekwoonie’s first musical is an adaptation of your first drama?“ hakyeon asks, wrapping his arms over hongbin’s shoulders where they’re watching from the wings, and hongbin nods and doesn’t bother mentioning that he’d been the one to suggest live theater after taekwoon had complained one too many times that he wanted to try acting but couldn’t get past the idea of that many cameras.
first time: it’s pure luck, hongbin simply in the right place at the right time, but taekwoon’s still grinning when he happens to glance up just as the shutter clicks, and hongbin thinks he might have to frame this one.
fluff: neither of them is much for words, so their "i love you"s are left unspoken in soft smiles that show just the barest hint of hongbin’s dimples, left unspoken in taekwoon’s sleepy early-morning kisses - left unspoken, but never left unheard.
darkfic: no one turns down a gift from the emperor, not even the emperor’s favorite whore, not even when the "gift” jaehwan’s just presented him with won’t take his eyes off the floor at hongbin’s feet; “make sure you check his teeth,” jaehwan says idly, like this is mere routine, like the slave is no better than a horse, and when hongbin pries the man’s mouth open with trembling fingers he realizes with a growing sense of horror that someone has cut out his tongue.
hurt/comfort: on days when jaehwan’s interference and hakyeon’s complaining make vixx tv filming take far longer than it should, when hongbin spends hours instead of minutes in artwork mode and retreats so far into silence and stillness he has trouble coming out again, it’s always taekwoon who brings him back with quiet understanding.
smut: taekwoon touches, sometimes, hesitant fingers on hongbin’s throat or his hip, but mostly he likes to watch silent and intent as hongbin swipes his thumb on the upstroke and tries to pretend he’s not quite so on display.
ust: hongbin doesn’t know what’s different since mydol days when they were first paired for kissing games, but the way taekwoon is staring at the pepero like it’s an obstacle rather than a threat has him unsure how to feel about the change.
Warnings: Rated M, Mild Smut, Mild Angst, Cheating
Word Count: 1203
Summary: Just how had you gotten like this again?
Author’s Note: Part of the Descent Series of one Shots. I wonder how you guys will react to this piece? As I was writing it, I kept thinking about how the reader character was similar to the woman in “On and On” as well as “Voodoo Doll” while N was very much a “Jekyll” here. This piece can stand alone, but it fits into a larger woodwork universe of one shots I’ve been writing. No warm fluffy feelings here.
prompt; hongbin/hyuk; curse (warnings for mention of self-harm, also length)
Sometimes, Hongbin hates the cameras. He hates the spotlight, hates the cries of the fans, hates that he has to look good for everyone. But what he hates most is himself as he looks into the bathroom mirror at his reflection, and all he can see are revolting pretty features. He hates his almond shaped eyes, he hates his straight nose and rosy lips. He hates his jawline, hates his white teeth, because all of his appearance is the reason why he feels like he is suffocating under it, like it’s both his salvation and his curse.
It’s a curse, really, because everything is only ever about his looks. It’s all people seem to see when their eyes set on him, it’s all that registers in their minds. Woah, he’s handsome or he looks like an actor; the voices running through his head almost make him want to snarl, and one of his hands collides with the mirror in an attempt to make them stop.
The pain only registers moments later when he hears frantic knocks on the door, and Hakyeon’s voice drifting through the closed space between them.
“Hongbin-ah, are you alright? What happened? I heard a crash.”
Hongbin retrieves his hand from the broken surface, eyeing the little drops of blood and mirror fragments aligning the skin on his knuckles. It’s almost soothing, the prickling pain, and Hongbin pokes at the shards digging into his skin in interest. The sharp pain he gets from the action feels like it could clean everything, and Hongbin looks up at the bigger shards, intrigued.
“Yah! Hongbin, open the door!”
He’s almost forgotten about Hakyeon standing on the other side of the door, and he hastily tries to get rid of the little shards embedded in his skin before he opens the it. Hakyeon eyes Hongbin in worry, before his gaze lands on the broken mirror.
“I’m sorry hyung, I think I- I kind of broke it.” Hongbin’s voice sounds almost sheepish, and Hakyeon simply looks at him, looks down at Hongbin’s hand. Their eyes meet for a second time, and Hongbin looks down bashfully. Then he feels Hakyeon pat his head, looking up to see the elder nod curtly.
“It’s ok, I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”
Hongbin almost flinches as Hakyeon walks past him to the mirror, a clear sign that he is dismissed. He knows he should be thankful for Hakyeon understanding, but something in him had hoped for screaming, scolding, anything that would make him feel worse about himself but better about all of this. Maybe that is what he’s intended in the first place, but Hongbin’s emotions have always been such a mess that he can’t be sure.
Hongbin clenches his teeth as he makes for their bedroom, one of his hands running into the pocket of his trunks. His fingers brush over one of the mirror shards he’s taken secretly, a shudder running through his back as his fingertips scratch against the welcoming sharpness of its cold edge.