Stray Kids Oneshots

★𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙖 𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙢𝙚★

Words: 5769
Ship: minsung
Consists of: hitman Minho, college graduate jisung, SMEX, dirty talk (?), gun to the head while doing it

Note: idefk what this is😭✋🏽do enjoy, or don't, idrc atp😭

★

In the dimly lit backstreets of the city, Minho glided through the shadows like a wraith. Clad in dark clothing that melded seamlessly with the night, he became nearly undetectable to anyone who might glance his way. The gentle patter of rain against the pavement created a soothing backdrop, echoing the rhythm of his racing heart. A decade of relentless training had sculpted him into a master of his craft-eliminating targets without a trace. Yet, as he neared the faintly illuminated apartment building, an unusual doubt began to creep into his mind.

Han Jisung, the intended victim, was meant to be an easy mark-a recent college graduate with no ties, no family, and no one to mourn his absence. However, as Minho scrutinized the photograph of the young man, he felt an unsettling tug at his conscience. Those wide, innocent eyes seemed to convey a silent cry for help, a purity he hadn't encountered in years. Nevertheless, duty called, and he knew he had to see this through.

The meeting was scheduled for midnight. Minho positioned himself discreetly behind a dumpster, the foul odor of decaying refuse barely registering in his senses. His awareness was heightened, attuned to the urban symphony around him-the far-off wail of a police siren, the flutter of a plastic bag caught in the wind, and the rhythmic drip of rainwater cascading from the eaves. When Jisung finally appeared, rounding the corner, Minho felt a tightening in his stomach. The young man looked more fragile than he had expected, his posture weighed down by an unseen load.

Jisung strode forward with determination, yet there was a subtle fragility in his steps that hinted at fatigue. His mind was so set on where he was headed that he failed to notice Minho until he emerged from the shadows. Their gazes locked, and for a fleeting moment, Minho experienced a surge of uncertainty. Jisung halted, his eyes wide and reflecting the vibrant neon lights around them. Raindrops clung to his lashes, lending him an almost ethereal, innocent look.

In a flash, Minho seized Jisung and shoved him into the alley, pinning him against the frigid brick wall. The gun in his grip hovered dangerously close to Jisung's head. The younger man's heart raced, pounding like a drum against Minho's forearm. Jisung's wide eyes searched Minho's face for answers, for a hint of humanity. Yet, all he found was the chilling steel of Minho's stare.

"Why?" Jisung's voice trembled, thick with fear and bewilderment. "What did I do?"

Minho's grip on the gun tightened. "It's not personal," he replied, his tone flat and devoid of feeling. But the sight of Jisung's quivering lip and dilated pupils sent an unexpected chill through him. This reaction was different; he was used to seeing either defiance or flight, not this... acceptance.

The silence between them felt heavy and stretched thin. The rain intensified, drenching them both. Jisung's breaths became uneven, his chest heaving. The impulse to pull the trigger began to fade, replaced by a strange curiosity. Who was this young man, and how had he found himself in such a perilous situation?

Minho's grip on the gun wavered, his hand gradually lowering as he took a cautious step back, creating distance between them. "Get lost," he growled, his voice rough and unyielding. "You're not worth the bullet."

Jisung blinked, his face a canvas of shock and disbelief. He stood frozen for a heartbeat, as if caught in a web of uncertainty. When he finally moved, it was a hesitant retreat from the wall, a step back into the unknown.