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thehorsewaslee · 4 months ago

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Re-blooming

(Alt ending to Wilted lemon trees)

The recruiter x reader

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Warnings; No reader body/race/age descriptions (if any pls lmk), but in my mind there’s an age gap. A little ooc. NO USE OF Y/N, I still don’t refer to the recruiter with a specific name. English is not my first language. Some description of injury.

WC: Just 2k 🤏🏻

Summary; Alt/fluffy ending to wilted lemon trees (for the fluff girliesss). I don’t think this could be read alone tbh :p (to me this is not canon 😔)

A/N: hope you enjoy this cause I wrote it instead of paying attention to my lectures and now I’m hashtag regretting it

He watched through the scope as the car approached his made up end spot. Welcome to the final show. The car you picked out was unassuming, grey and very much a family car but he caught your alias pretty easily. You were speeding down an empty backcountry road, almost at your sweet sweet escape, not on his watch though. He shot the bullet, hitting your tires immediately, causing the car to flip over into a nearby ditch. He abandoned his position, taking his gun with him to ensure the job is done. The wreck caught up in flames, the light from the fire casting a yellow glow onto the surroundings. He approached your position under the turned-over car. Your back was to the ground as your hands were reaching for your gun, but it was too far away, plus he kicked it from your line of sight with his polished shoe. You panted, looking down at your lower body with defeat, the wreckage making it difficult to move. He watched you, so helpless and at his mercy and he couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Just a little.

“Bad time to say that suit looks great on you?” You coughed. “Brings your face out.”

“Get up.” he kicked your side softly, causing you to cough more.

“Way to kick a woman when she’s down.”

The flames from the car had reached your legs, that's for sure, but the fact that you were not crying out in pain right now was concerning.

“Cmon now, don’t give up so easily.” He dropped his weapon, hurrying over to attempt to lift the car a little to give you crawl space. The metal of the door burnt his hands, but he endured, for you. You shimmied out on your elbows and collapsed once more, panting heavily with a bloodied nose from impact. He picked his gun back up and stood over you, feet at your sides with the weapon aimed at your head. Your hands came up slowly in surrender.

“You win.” There was a hint of teasing in your tone, though he was unsure as to why.

His jaw clenched, grip tight on the firearm as he looked into your tired eyes. He needs to do this. Now.

“Just like back in Cairo, huh?” You coughed, causing him to smile a little.

“You and I remember Cairo very differently.”

The memories of that time crawled into his mind involuntarily, especially how the air felt that night. You studied his face from your position on the rough floor, conflicted and hesitant.

“Was this not what you wanted?” You croaked.

He didn’t answer, only kept his gaze trained on your face.

Cairo must’ve left a lasting mark on him.

Your eyes were already getting blurry from a combination of blood loss, the adrenaline wearing off and the newly felt pain.

“Just kill me, babe.” You coughed.

That seemed to do the trick, as he knelt down to smack you on the head with his gun. As you finally succumbed to unconsciousness, you heard a shot ring out, then felt the sharp pain in your abdomen; the final domino in your blacking out spell.

. . .

There was an unfamiliar warmth on your face easing you out of the state you were in. Kind, welcoming, gentle. Your senses began making their way back to you, the sweet birdsong melody engulfing you warmly. There was a waft of fresh air all around, the kind you smell deep in the countryside when the next city isn’t for hours. Then, pain.

So so so much pain, everywhere. At the sensation, your eyes shot open, but they were instantly shot back shut due to the intense light on your pupils. You blinked a few times, willing yourself to beat the force of the sun beaming down on you. When your eyes finally adjusted to lights, you attempted to sit up, wary of the unfamiliarity of the surroundings. It was futile, the pain knocking you immediately back down, a handcuff at your wrist also limiting your movement. You were shackled to the bed. More pain was elicited when you’d attempted to pull on the chain.

“Don’t do that.” You hadn’t even noticed his presence, posted in a dark corner with the light from the window only hitting his lower half. You took a second to take the room in whilst propped up on one arm.

It was a small bedroom with very little indication as to who lived in it before, only a few boxes of belongings strewn about. The floor was a mess, bills and other varieties of papers covering the small carpet. The walls had what you could assume were certificates of achievements adorning them, a wide variety of colours and sizes. By the bed lay a singular teddy bear, brown and innocent, and the only indication of this being a child’s bedroom.

Your eyes made their way back to him, observing as he leaned forward slowly, allowing the sun to hit his blemish-free face. Well, almost blemish free, save for a small scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Kinky” you jiggled the chain.

“You were strongly against any and every form of help I tried to offer you.” He tilted his palm to show a nasty bite mark on it. “You wouldn’t let me stich, sedate or transport you. Or anyone else for that matter. Caused me a lot of trouble.”

He got up slowly from his spot, opening the door by his side and disappearing outside.

You got up as well, the chain being long enough to allow you some movement in the small room. You padded over to the certificates, bare footed and a little cold. They were almost all academic achievements, all dedicated to one-

“Is that your name?” You didn’t have to turn around to feel his presence there behind you.

“Yeah.” His hand came up to your side, grasping your wrist gently to undo the cuff. You couldn’t tear your eyes from his name though, it felt like a gigantic leap forward, like he’d just given you the moon and stars. It was so fitting for him.

“You live here?”

“Used to.”

“And then?”

“You know.”

Growing up, the games, it was a stupid question really, you were just so giddy and so barely able to think straight.

He exited the room wordlessly once more, leaving you to your curious exploration. You lipped over to one of the boxes by the bed, small and unassuming, the outside adorned with little hand drawn hearts and other shapes. Inside, a modest collection of old photos, mostly of him and his father. Camping, fishing, playing, bathing. There were few where his mother made appearances in, mostly just him and his dad. He looked so eerily normal, smiles wide and carefree like he wouldn’t grow up to be a murderer. You must’ve spent a good amount of time flipping through each photograph, soaking in the normalcy they held. The smell of food began filling your senses, alerting you of your previously quiet hunger. You limped over slowly to the door, then out through the hallways to where you could hear some plates and pans clinking. There he was, back to you over the small stovetop cooking what you could assume was a steak. He wore a plain white shirt, a little loose on his form, paired with a pair of plaid pants.

He’s in his pyjamas. You held back a giggle by biting your lip.

You still don’t know why he brought you here, or why he hadn’t killed you yet.

“Is that the only meal you know how to make?”

“You know the answer to that. It’s just convenient. And you need to restore your iron.”

He turned around, revealing a very pretty blue apron with lemons on it. He plated the tempting meal and took the apron off, sitting down on the small kitchen table, opening the seat by his side for you to take. You descended onto the chair slowly, wincing at the pain from your side. He dug into his plate with his usual class, but your curiosity prevented you from eating anything, the questions on your mind already too filling.

“What’s the plan here? Wine, dine and end my bloodline?”

He dropped the utensils, a hand coming up to rub his eyes at your stupid play on words. There was a small smile on his lips when he looked back up at you.

“No. You’re already dead.”

You exaggerate a look around the place, eyes wide and breath loud. “Spooky.”

He gave you a tired look and sighed.

“I regret not killing you.”

“You don’t mean that”

“I do, actually.”

He turned back to his meal, mentally preparing himself for what looks to be a lifetime of lame jokes.

“I faked it all. The body, the death. Had to shoot you for authenticity and all. Also because the bullet had your name so I didn’t want to waste it.”

You poked his side, earning no reaction from him.

“They didn’t check after me, loyalty pays off I guess.”

“Where are we?”

“About an hour drive out of Seoul, it’s cozy here. Has its charm. I can keep you safe and keep my job at the same time.”

“Oh? So when you’re out playing villain, what do I do? I’m not your little housewife.” There was a small smile in your words.

“Is that so bad? Weren’t you the one who wanted white picket fences and wrap-around porches?”

“You wanted it too, hotshot. Or else you wouldn't’ve kept me alive.”

He slumped back, hands dropping the utensils once again, turning his face to look at you.

“Must you be difficult?” He sighed.

Your hand came up to fix his slightly disheveled hair out of his face. “You’re just so entertaining.”

His eyes were on the hand he had on the table now, watching as he cracked knuckle after knuckle, the other hand at his side. He pushed his tongue out into his cheek, taking a few deep breaths to try to cool his anger. His throat bobbed heavily before he pushed up suddenly from his spot, taking a few short strides to the outside. You irritated him endlessly, making his feelings for you all the more infuriating. You followed him a minute later, finding him leaning on the house front, one leg over the other as he watched the empty field opposite. He had his hands in his pockets, jaw clenched tightly as he tapped his head on the wall gently. You brought your hand up to touch his bare bicep, causing him to sigh and shut his eyes, his shoulders relaxing. In a swift movement, he brought your form flush into his, engulfing you in his embrace, a hand coming up to press your head into him, scratching at your scalp a little.

“I risked a lot to get you here I-” he let out a shaky breath. “You need to work with me to keep our peace. Seoul isn’t safe right now, it won’t be for a while, for you anyway. I know it’s a huge contrast, but…we can figure it out when you’re feeling better, okay?”

So he got it all, the job, the girl, the looks. You…weren’t mad, nodding into him.

He used his hand to angle your face to look into his.

He kissed you then, it was new. Unsure and a little innocent, unfitting for who either of you were. You smiled against his lips, pulling away to look at him once more. His arm found your waist, the other coming up to interlace with yours. You swayed gently to no music, moving in tandem to the sound of nothing. It was mostly him, though, being a surprisingly great dancer. He hummed a soft song you were unfamiliar with, eyes boring into yours somberly .

I won’t say I’m in love.

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