My Lover, My Killer
Hyunjin x Reader
Summery: Hyunjin lives in the shadows, invisible to most people. His movements are graceful and precise. He kills quickly and mercilessly, without question of if they deserve it or not. He only cares for one thing: You.
When he hunts, itâs for you. When he hurts bad people, itâs for you. When he kills, he does it for you. So that you can be safe, be protected.
Warnings: Dark romance, assassin!hyunjin, mafia au, dead dove: do not eat, descriptions of murder, stalker!hyunjin, you are both freaks
WC: 1k
Authors note: this is my first x reader fic so pls bear with. I also donât tend to post on tumblr so Iâm sorry if the layout is ugly.
This is for a very specific person. You know who you are. I hope you enjoy.
His hands are aching.
He squeezes them tighter, fighting against the jerking gurgles of the man beneath him.
He always forgets how much strength is required to kill someone in this way. The consistent pressure, always compensating for the struggle the target inevitably gives. He typically favours other methods, but needs must.
Another gurgle echoes around the room before the target grows limp, all fight leaving him all at once.
He keeps his hands in place for a moment longer, ignoring the growing cramps in his fingers. Only when heâs confident his mark is dead does he finally release him.
He sits back on his haunches, allowing himself a breath, raising his hands to wipe the sweat from his forehead, careful to avoid the drying blood coating his hand.
It was one of his messier kills. The target was more combative than heâd expected, actually putting up a fight unlike most of the pathetic pigs he goes after. Chan hadnât told him what the deal was with this guy, but it didnât really matter. They were all the same to him.
With a groan, he stumbled to his feet, rolling his neck and resetting his mind. It was done. The hunt was over. The beast was killed.
He looked down at the lump of flesh that was a living, breathing man only a few minutes ago and he smiled. Another job well done.
The air outside was cold, biting at the flesh of his cheeks as he walked. Cleanup had been easy. Called the people he needed to, washed off his hands, and changed and burnt his clothes. Easy. Routine.
The same routine that meant he knew exactly where he was going next.
He smiled at the old lady who sat behind the stall, thanking her for the beautiful bouquet she had saved âspecial, just for you.â
âYour lady is a very lucky womanâ, sheâd once said to him. He disagreed. He was the lucky one.
He thanked her again, carefully tucking the flowers in the crook of his elbow, being sure to sneak a fifty into her tip jar before making his way back out.
He will never forget the first day he saw you. It was a night just like any other, dark and cold. This target had been a particularly bad one, one of the few times Hyunjin actually knew why they deserved to be killed. He had hurt one of their own, their very own ray of sunshine, and for that he deserved pain saved only for devils. The torture had been extensive. He allowed himself unending cruelty, taking great inspiration from his dear friend and known psychopath, Minho. The result had been messy, but heâd had fun. But even fun can make you tired, weary. By the time the manâs heart finally stopped for good, Hyunjin was exhausted. He needed rest. Apparently, more than heâd realised.
He hadnât meant to fall asleep, but he canât find it within himself to be angry at his foolishness when it led him to you. His angel.
He remembers your soft hand against his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. He remembers how the light of the streetlamp encased you like the light of the heavens, a sight so beautiful he thought he had dreamt it. But you werenât a dream, you were real. And you were beautiful. You had asked if he was alright, asked for his name, and asked if he needed an ambulance. You had no idea how dangerous he was, but you helped him anyway. Your kindness was the reason he fell in love.
He knew from that moment he had to keep you safe.
His back is screaming at him as he makes his way up the fireescape, each footstep as silent as the last. He knows, logically, the gifts did nothing to keep you safe, but where was the harm. A woman such as you deserves the world, deserves to be showered with beautiful gifts, and whatâs more beautiful than flowers?
He comes to a stop outside your window; the latch is undone. You want him here.
The shower is running, the pattering of the droplets fill the small apartment like a mist. He needs to act fast.
He grabs the old bouquet still nestled in its vase - the petals old and shrivelled, the leaves crunching softly beneath his palms - and allows himself a moment to appreciate them. He always loved when they were slightly wilted, melancholic. He was grateful you donât chuck them away anymore.
He replaces the old bouquet with the new one, gently arranging each of the stems so they sit perfectly. A perfect view for a perfect woman.
The shower stops.
Without making a sound he dashes for the window when something catches his eye - a flash of lace left unguarded on the ground. He knows he shouldnât, knows he doesnât have time, but he just canât help himself. His gut lurches as he leans forward, his fingers wrapping around the fabric and gently bringing it to his face. In an instant he is engulfed in your scent.
He feels like a rabid animal, a beast who needs to be put down. His mind is a hazy cloud of lust, his pulse racing, saliva pooling - he needs to leave.
But one thought cuts through, sharper than any knife; you left them here for him to find.
You left the window unlatched. You kept the flowers. And you left those here for him to find.
The door to the bathroom opens, but heâs already gone. You just hear the click of the latch as the window closes again.
You notice the new flowers, and the distinct absence of those lace panties youâd left behind. You hope he enjoys the gift. He deserves it after all the kind things heâs left you. You sigh to yourself, getting ready for bed, wistfully wondering if you will ever meet your kind stranger.
You donât know that he is sat just outside, listening to you. One day, you will be his. But for now, he just listens.
