Ship/Member: Seungcheol/Mingyu Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: the devil judge au, falling in love with the darkness we recognise, the kang yohan-isms of elle seungcheol in his black turtleneck, kim 'gaon' mingyu because who am i if not the person who projects jinyoung's characters onto the nearest available svt member Permission to remix: Yes~ honestly I'd pay you to give me anything, especially jeonghan as sunah A/N: mods, this fill is exactly 400 words ^____^ also linking a related tumblr post for anyone interested!
***
Concealing his entrance into Seungcheol’s study is impossible. The door screams every time Mingyu barges his way inside. A warning to who, he’s not sure.
“Have you ever told me anything true?” He demands, wielding his voice like a knife. The attempt is clumsy—he’d sooner cut himself open than draw a drop of Seungcheol’s blood.
Seungcheol spins around in his chair. Seeing him out of his official gown and vest rattles Mingyu’s heart against his ribs. In his worn flannel pyjamas, with his unstyled curls framing a pair of deep brown eyes, Seungcheol looks harmless.
Oh, how looks deceive.
“I know my face earned me the seat to your left, but I’m not as gullible as you think I am.”
He rises from his seat and crosses to Mingyu’s side, leaning against the table as he traps Mingyu’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“A well-earned seat,” Seungcheol murmurs, low. “It is quite a pleasant face.”
Is pleasantness the reason you look at me with a gaze that puts a burning sun to shame?
Mingyu jerks his head, but Seungcheol’s hand merely drops to his shoulder. It slides along his back, greeting the songbird with a tender caress. He’d gotten the tattoo the first year of law school; a young man bursting with dreams of freedom, of flying away whenever his heart desired. The weight of taking flight never materialised until Seungcheol placed him under his touch.
That’s what finding a good tree means. It makes you want to build a nest. It steals the colours from the sky and the wind from beneath your wings. It promises you loneliness and heartache when you think of leaving.
Seungcheol guides him to the couch, and Mingyu follows—for the same reason he’d shielded him from the explosion, let Seungcheol confine him to a fortress that turns into a home with his presence, cooked dinner night after night sustained only by the hope that Seungcheol, too, has found a reason to stay.
“I will find who did this to you.”
The bomb was for you, Mingyu thinks. Seungcheol’s fingers in his hair eliminate the thought.
“What are you going to do once you find them?”
“Nothing you’d like to know.”
Fly, his sanity whispers. But Mingyu gazes up at him and decides, in a heartbeat, that he’d rather be consumed by darkness than look at Seungcheol and see a stranger. “Tell me, Chief.”
the abyss gazes also into you
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: the devil judge au, falling in love with the darkness we recognise, the kang yohan-isms of elle seungcheol in his black turtleneck, kim 'gaon' mingyu because who am i if not the person who projects jinyoung's characters onto the nearest available svt member
Permission to remix: Yes~ honestly I'd pay you to give me anything, especially jeonghan as sunah
A/N: mods, this fill is exactly 400 words ^____^ also linking a related tumblr post for anyone interested!
***
Concealing his entrance into Seungcheol’s study is impossible. The door screams every time Mingyu barges his way inside. A warning to who, he’s not sure.
“Have you ever told me anything true?” He demands, wielding his voice like a knife. The attempt is clumsy—he’d sooner cut himself open than draw a drop of Seungcheol’s blood.
Seungcheol spins around in his chair. Seeing him out of his official gown and vest rattles Mingyu’s heart against his ribs. In his worn flannel pyjamas, with his unstyled curls framing a pair of deep brown eyes, Seungcheol looks harmless.
Oh, how looks deceive.
“I know my face earned me the seat to your left, but I’m not as gullible as you think I am.”
He rises from his seat and crosses to Mingyu’s side, leaning against the table as he traps Mingyu’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“A well-earned seat,” Seungcheol murmurs, low. “It is quite a pleasant face.”
Is pleasantness the reason you look at me with a gaze that puts a burning sun to shame?
Mingyu jerks his head, but Seungcheol’s hand merely drops to his shoulder. It slides along his back, greeting the songbird with a tender caress. He’d gotten the tattoo the first year of law school; a young man bursting with dreams of freedom, of flying away whenever his heart desired. The weight of taking flight never materialised until Seungcheol placed him under his touch.
That’s what finding a good tree means. It makes you want to build a nest. It steals the colours from the sky and the wind from beneath your wings. It promises you loneliness and heartache when you think of leaving.
Seungcheol guides him to the couch, and Mingyu follows—for the same reason he’d shielded him from the explosion, let Seungcheol confine him to a fortress that turns into a home with his presence, cooked dinner night after night sustained only by the hope that Seungcheol, too, has found a reason to stay.
“I will find who did this to you.”
The bomb was for you, Mingyu thinks. Seungcheol’s fingers in his hair eliminate the thought.
“What are you going to do once you find them?”
“Nothing you’d like to know.”
Fly, his sanity whispers. But Mingyu gazes up at him and decides, in a heartbeat, that he’d rather be consumed by darkness than look at Seungcheol and see a stranger. “Tell me, Chief.”