I love your Trauma Code fic SM, I wanted to find some Trauma Code fics and I stumbled upon yours and dare I say I am OBSESSED this is the best one yet. Baek Kang Hyuk in your book is what I pictured him to be when he's in love, I hope to see more of your fics relating to him!
you are so sweet for this! u js got me writing another one😆.
5 Reasons Why Baek Kang Hyuk Likes Y/N, and 1 Reason Why She Likes Him (One-shot)
Baek Kang-Hyuk x Fem!Reader
1. She doesn’t look away from the hard things.
Some doctors hesitate at the first sign of tragedy. They linger outside trauma bays, defer decisions, stall when things get too close to failure.
Not her.
Baek Kang Hyuk noticed it the first month she rotated through trauma with him. A seven-year-old came in. Multiple fractures. Head injury. No guardian. They were losing him.
Most would have stepped aside. Let someone more experienced take over. But Y/N? She stayed by the child’s side, hands steady, voice low and clear. She intubated under pressure, wiped the blood from her gloves herself, and didn’t once flinch.
After the boy stabilized, she walked out of the room and let out one long breath like she’d been holding it underwater.
He respected her before that moment.
But after?
He watched her like he was seeing someone who’d already survived a thousand invisible storms—and still chose to walk into the next one.
2. She hums when she’s focused.
It wasn’t anything melodic. More like a barely-there tune she probably didn’t even realize she was making.
She’d do it when she was charting. When she was checking labs. Once, she did it while they were gloving up before surgery, and it nearly made him miss a step.
He didn’t think anyone else noticed. But he always did.
It was stupid, probably. A small, human thing in the middle of a place built on emergencies. But it made the harsh white of the ER feel warmer.
More grounded.
More bearable.
Sometimes he’d catch himself waiting for it. Like the sound was proof she was still there. Still breathing. Still fighting beside him.
3. She argues like she wants him to be better.
Kang Hyuk didn’t like being wrong. Or more accurately—he didn’t like being questioned. Most people in the hospital didn’t bother. They trusted his judgment, his name, his reputation.
But Y/N?
Y/N challenged him.
“You’re brilliant, but you’re not a god,” she told him once after he dismissed her suggested imaging order for a trauma case. “Double-checking isn’t a sign of weakness.”
He stared at her, stunned—not by the words, but by how calmly she said them. Like she wasn’t trying to put him in his place. Like she was offering a rope and asking him to meet her halfway.
He didn’t say anything then. Just nodded.
But the next time she raised a concern, he listened. Not just out of professional courtesy, but because he’d started trusting her instincts as much as his own.
She didn’t make him doubt himself.
She made him better.
And that terrified him a little.
4. She knows when to speak and when to just sit beside him.
After a string of back-to-back deaths, he found himself sitting on the floor of the stairwell, elbows on his knees, scrub collar damp with sweat. He hadn’t moved in twenty minutes.
Most people avoided him when he was like that.
Not her.
She didn’t ask what happened. Didn’t offer him a lecture on self-care or burnout or whatever buzzword the hospital was preaching that month.
She just sat next to him, legs stretched out, their shoulders brushing.
After a few minutes, she slid a wrapped protein bar into his hand and said, “If you die of low blood sugar, I’ll have to resuscitate you, and frankly, I’m tired.”
He let out a small laugh before he could stop himself.
She didn’t press. Didn’t ask what he was thinking.
She just stayed.
And for once, he let someone sit with the version of him that didn’t have all the answers.
5. She looked at him once like she knew everything—and stayed anyway.
He was running on zero sleep, covered in blood that wasn’t his, and snapping at anyone within a ten-foot radius. He knew it. Couldn’t help it.
Then she appeared in front of him with a fresh pair of gloves and said, “You’re spiraling.”
He blinked at her, annoyed, defensive. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
And then, with the gentlest voice he’d ever heard, she added, “You don’t have to be.”
He stared at her, stunned.
Most people backed off when he got like this. She didn’t.
She saw him. Not just the doctor. Not the stoic leader.
She saw the man unraveling beneath the layers—and still handed him gloves like she’d do it again tomorrow if he needed her to.
He didn’t know what to do with that.
So he said nothing.
But that night, he stayed two steps behind her the entire shift. Close enough to watch her work. Far enough not to be obvious.
And when she looked at him over her shoulder and smiled?
It felt like being chosen—without having to earn it.
The one reason she likes him.
It was late. Nearly 3AM. She was sitting alone at the nurses’ station, rubbing her temple, scrolling through scans for a patient whose case had gone south fast. Her voice recorder was half full of notes. Her coffee was cold.
And then—quiet footsteps.
Kang Hyuk didn’t say anything at first. Just placed a fresh cup beside her and stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do with his hands.
“You don’t have to take care of me,” she said, without looking up.
“I know.”
“So why do you keep doing it?”
He hesitated. “Because I want to.”
She looked up. Met his eyes. Let silence hang between them like fragile thread.
She could’ve made a joke. Deflected. But something about the way he was standing—shoulders stiff, heart wide open in the quietest way—made her pause.
And then she said it. Soft. Certain.
“That’s why I like you.”
His breath caught.
“You don’t have to tell me what you’re feeling,” she added. “But I see it. All of it. And I still want to stay.”
He didn’t move for a long time.
Then, quietly, he pulled a chair beside her, sat down, and leaned just slightly so their arms touched.
He didn’t say thank you.
But the next morning, she found her name on the attending schedule next to his.
The first time Y/N met Zoro, she immediately pegged him as a nightmare patient.
She had dealt with her fair share of stubborn pirates—men who refused treatment because they thought scars were trophies, idiots who tore their stitches after an hour, captains who ignored medical advice because they thought they were invincible.
But he was a special kind of impossible.
“I don’t need stitches,” Zoro muttered, arms crossed, looking down at the bloody mess on his side.
Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You have a six-inch gash in your torso.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not the argument you think it is.”
She didn’t wait for his permission, pressing a cloth to his wound. He barely flinched, which was even more annoying. She had seen men pass out from less, but he sat there like she was applying a light breeze instead of disinfecting torn flesh.
The Heart Pirates were camped out near the Sunny, treating the injured after a skirmish with a marine fleet. It had been a mess, but they had won, and now the real battle—getting pirates to actually listen to doctors—had begun.
Zoro was easily the worst of the lot.
“You’re lucky it didn’t cut deeper,” Y/N said as she started stitching him up. “A little more force, and you’d be dead.”
He snorted. “If I died from something like this, I wouldn’t deserve to be the world’s greatest swordsman.”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Well, you won’t be anything if you get an infection and drop dead in two days.”
Zoro tilted his head slightly, watching her work. “You’re a lot bossier than your captain.”
She pulled the stitch a little tighter than necessary, making him grunt. “And you’re a worse patient than yours.”
He smirked, but didn’t argue.
And for some reason, that silence stayed with her.
⸻
At first, Zoro was just another patient—an annoying, reckless one, but still just a patient.
But then she started noticing him.
Not just in battle, where he fought like a monster, cutting down enemies like it was as easy as breathing. But in quieter moments—the way he always sat with his back to a wall, eyes sharp even when resting. The way he trained longer than anyone else, even when he was injured. The way he wasn’t just strong, but steady, like an anchor in a storm.
And she hated that she noticed.
Because once she started, she couldn’t stop.
It was after another brutal battle that things changed.
The alliance had been ambushed, and Zoro had taken the brunt of it—again. By the time Y/N reached him, he was slumped against a broken wall, swords still clutched in his hands, blood dripping onto the ground.
“Zoro,” she called, rushing toward him.
He didn’t answer right away. His breathing was rough, shoulders rising and falling with exhaustion. But when she pressed a hand to his wound, his eyes opened, hazy with blood loss.
“I told you—” she started.
“Did we win?” he muttered.
Y/N gritted her teeth. Of course that was his first concern. “Yeah. We won.”
Zoro exhaled slowly. “Good.”
“Not good. You’re bleeding everywhere,” she snapped, pressing gauze against his side. “You could’ve avoided this, you know.”
Zoro gave a weak chuckle. “Not my style.”
Her hands trembled slightly as she worked, which annoyed her even more. She had stitched up countless wounds, faced death more times than she could count. But something about seeing him like this made her uneasy in a way she didn’t want to examine.
“You worry too much,” he muttered, eyes flickering shut.
Y/N froze for half a second.
Then she pressed down on his wound harder.
Zoro hissed. “Oi—”
“And you don’t worry enough,” she shot back.
He didn’t answer right away. But then, barely audible—
“…I do.”
Y/N’s breath caught.
But before she could say anything, Law shouted for her to help another injured crewmate. She hesitated, eyes locked on Zoro’s.
He gave a small nod. Go.
She went. But the weight of his words stayed with her.
⸻
After that, something shifted.
It wasn’t obvious—at least, not to anyone else. But Y/N felt it.
Zoro started lingering around the Heart Pirates more, though he never gave a reason why. Their conversations were still full of sarcasm and exasperation, but sometimes, in between the bickering, there were moments of quiet understanding.
She noticed things she hadn’t before. The way he trained until his hands bled, pushing himself beyond reason. The way he always knew where his crew was, even when pretending not to care. The way his gaze would find her in the chaos of battle, like he was making sure she was still standing.
She didn’t know what to do with that.
And then, there was the jealousy incident.
It started with Sanji.
The cook had always been friendly, but lately, his flirting had become more pointed. Nothing serious, just his usual over-the-top charm. Y/N rolled her eyes every time, but it never bothered her.
Until Zoro started reacting to it.
She first noticed it when Sanji casually slung an arm around her shoulder, grinning.
“My dear Y/N, you should consider switching crews. I’d treat you far better than these barbarians.”
Before she could retort, she caught sight of Zoro—standing a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Later, as she bandaged his wrist from overtraining, she smirked. “Were you jealous?”
Zoro scoffed. “Tch. As if.”
But his ears were red.
⸻
One night, when everything was quiet, Y/N sat alone on the deck of the Polar Tang, staring at the stars.
She barely heard Zoro approach, but she felt his presence when he sat beside her.
“You should rest,” she murmured.
“So should you.”
She let out a tired laugh. “Touché.”
They sat in silence for a while. Then, before she could stop herself, she admitted, “I worry about you more than I should.”
Zoro didn’t look at her, but she saw the faint smirk on his lips. “Yeah… me too.”
A beat of silence. Then, ever so subtly, his hand brushed against hers.
The first time Y/N treated Levi, he barely spared them a glance.
He sat on the edge of a cot, blood running down his arm from a fresh wound, fingers twitching in restrained impatience. The infirmary was dimly lit, the scent of antiseptic sharp in the air.
“This will sting,” Y/N warned, pressing a cloth to the gash.
Levi grunted. “I’ve had worse.”
Y/N didn’t doubt it. They worked in silence, cleaning and stitching the wound with steady hands. He didn’t flinch, didn’t complain—just watched them with that sharp, assessing gaze, as if trying to determine what kind of person they were.
They didn’t bother filling the quiet with empty words. When they were done, they simply wrapped the wound and said, “Don’t tear the stitches.”
Levi didn’t thank them. They didn’t expect him to.
But the next time he was injured, he sought them out without a word.
⸻
Their relationship wasn’t built on conversation.
It was built on shared glances across the battlefield, on moments spent sitting in silence after long missions, on unspoken understanding. Y/N learned to read Levi in ways others couldn’t—the slight shift in his shoulders when exhaustion threatened to weigh him down, the way his fingers curled into his palms when his mind was elsewhere.
And Levi, in turn, trusted them in ways he didn’t trust most people. He let them treat him without protest, let them linger a second longer than necessary when checking his injuries.
One night, after a mission had gone particularly wrong, Y/N found him sitting alone, hands clasped together, staring at nothing.
Without a word, they placed a cup of tea beside him and sat down on the opposite bench.
Levi didn’t acknowledge them at first. But after a long moment, he reached for the tea, fingers brushing against the handle.
He didn’t say thank you.
He didn’t have to.
⸻
The confession came too late.
The battle was raging around them—screams, the clash of blades, the sound of thunderous footsteps. Y/N’s breaths were shallow, their body pinned beneath rubble. Levi was there, crouched beside them, his hands working to free them, his face set in sharp, desperate focus.
“Levi,” they rasped.
“Save your strength,” he said. “You’re not dying here.”
The weight of his words pressed against them, but they knew the truth. They could feel it in the way their body refused to move, in the way the cold was seeping into their bones.
There wasn’t enough time.
Y/N’s fingers found his wrist, gripping it weakly. Levi stilled.
“I—” Their voice wavered, their lips parting as if to say more.
But the words never came.
Because in the next instant, the ground trembled, and Levi was forced back, the battlefield swallowing them both.
⸻
Later, after the bodies had been gathered, after the screams had faded into memory, Levi stood where Y/N had fallen.
Their body was gone. There was nothing left but blood and dust.
He hadn’t moved when they reached for him one last time. Hadn’t spoken when their lips parted, their voice stolen by the chaos around them.
He would never know what they had meant to say.
Levi’s fingers curled at his sides. His breath was steady—controlled, as it always was. But something inside him felt hollow.
As he turned to leave, his eyes caught on something small in the dirt.
A fragment of Y/N’s medical kit.
He crouched down, picking it up with careful fingers. The edges were worn, smudged with blood, insignificant to anyone else.
To him, it wasn’t meaningless.
He slipped it into his pocket and walked away.
He didn’t look back.
But he didn’t let go.
Here’s my first ever Attack on Titan fan fiction. I love Levi so much he didn’t deserve what happened to him🥲.
The first thing Y/N felt was warmth. A slow, steady heat pressed against her skin, traveling through her veins like a quiet reminder that she was still alive.
The second thing she felt was pain. Dull and heavy, curling in her chest with every breath she took.
The third was him.
Baek Kang-Hyuk was slumped forward in a chair beside her, head bowed, his hand wrapped around hers like a lifeline. His grip was strong—almost too tight—but she didn’t mind. It grounded her.
She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry. She swallowed and tried again. “Malak…”
His head shot up so fast she thought he might have hurt himself. Bloodshot eyes met hers, filled with exhaustion, relief, and something deeper—something raw and unguarded.
“Y/N,” he breathed. His voice cracked.
She managed a weak smile. “Did you… cry?”
Baek exhaled sharply, a sound caught between a laugh and a scoff. He rubbed a hand over his face. “You almost died, and that’s the first thing you say?”
Her fingers twitched in his grasp. “Did I?”
His jaw tightened. “You were gone for a moment. You lost so much blood—” He stopped himself, exhaling shakily. “I had to transfuse mine while operating. If you had—”
He broke off.
Y/N’s chest ached, but not from her injuries. She had seen Baek serious before, even afraid, but never like this. Never like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t bear to lose.
“You saved me,” she murmured.
Baek let out a breath, slow and unsteady. “I couldn’t let you die. Not after everything. Not after waiting so damn long for you to be ready.”
Y/N frowned. “Ready?”
“For us.” His fingers tightened around hers. “For you to find your own reason to live. Your own identity outside of this place. So that when you chose to come with me, it would be because you wanted to, not because I asked you to.”
Her heart clenched. “Kang-Hyuk…”
He shook his head. “I never wanted to take you away from Black Wings if you weren’t ready. I never wanted you to follow me just because of what we have. But damn it, Y/N—” His voice broke. “I can’t lose you. I won’t.”
Y/N stared at him, her breath shallow.
It was always unspoken between them. A love tangled between stitches, between lives saved and lost, between the battlefield and the quiet moments in between. They had never needed to say it.
But now, with the weight of near-death between them, silence wasn’t enough.
She reached up with trembling fingers and cupped his cheek. His breath hitched, eyes dark and searching.
“Then take me with you,” she whispered.
His whole body went still.
She let out a small, shaky laugh. “I don’t know how to live outside of this place. But if you’ll have me, I’ll learn. I want to learn.”
Baek inhaled sharply, as if trying to hold himself together. But then, in the next moment, he was leaning in—so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips.
“Say it again,” he murmured.
Her heart pounded. “Take me with you.”
Baek Kang-Hyuk closed the space between them.
The kiss was everything and nothing like she imagined. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was steady, certain. A vow sealed between them, whispered through lips that had seen too much war and too little peace.
She melted into him, fingers curling into his shirt, and Baek held her like he never intended to let go.
And for once, he wouldn’t have to.
Because this time, she was choosing him, too.
—
Y/N hated feeling weak.
She had spent years training her body, sharpening her skills, surviving war zones most people wouldn’t last a day in. But now, she was stuck in a hospital bed, her body stitched together by Baek’s hands and sheer luck.
She let out a slow breath, shifting slightly against the pillows. Even that small movement sent a dull ache rippling through her body.
“Don’t even think about moving,” Baek’s voice came from the doorway.
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. He had been hovering ever since she woke up, and though she’d never admit it, a part of her found it… comforting.
Baek walked into the room, carrying a tray. “Brought you food,” he said, setting it down on the table beside her. “You need to eat.”
She eyed the tray suspiciously. “Did you make it?”
Baek scoffed. “You think I have time to cook?”
“Then I might actually eat it.”
Baek gave her a dry look but didn’t argue. Instead, he adjusted the blankets around her—fussily, she noted—and sat down on the chair beside her bed.
Y/N studied him for a moment. His face was sharper than usual, dark circles under his eyes, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something quieter.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
Baek shrugged. “Since we got back.”
She frowned. “That was—”
“Two weeks ago.”
She blinked. Two weeks?
“You haven’t left?”
Baek leaned back, crossing his arms. “Where the hell else would I be?”
Before she could respond, a sudden knock interrupted them.
Baek sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s them.”
“Them?”
Before he could explain, the door swung open, revealing three unfamiliar faces.
“Finally!” Jae-Won stepped inside, arms crossed. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, you know.”
Beside him, Jang-Mi with neatly tied hair and a clipboard tucked under her arm sighed. “Dr. Baek has been an absolute menace these past two weeks. You’ve caused us so much trouble.”
Gyeong-Won nodded quickly. “We had to drag him out of here just to make sure he didn’t pass out.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, glancing at Baek. “They sound like they know you well.”
Baek pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unfortunately.”
Y/N blinked at them, then turned to Baek. “So these are the people keeping you in check?”
Baek exhaled. “Barely.”
Jae-won grinned. “He’s been a pain in the ass ever since he got back. Snapping at everyone, refusing to leave this room—”
“I was not snapping—”
“—and scaring the interns half to death,” Jang-Mi finished.
Y/N smirked. “Sounds about right.”
Baek shot her an unimpressed look.
Jae-won nudged her foot lightly, careful not to touch any of her injuries. “But seriously. He’s been out of his mind worried about you.”
Y/N glanced at Baek, who was suddenly very interested in the floor.
She softened.
“Well,” she said, meeting Baek’s gaze. “I’m still here.”
Baek exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he murmured. “You are.”
And for the first time since waking up, she let herself breathe.
—
The hospital rooftop was quiet, the city lights stretching endlessly beyond the railing. A cool breeze carried the scent of rain, the sky painted in hues of deep blue and fading gold.
Y/N stood at the edge, leaning against the railing, the wind playing with the loose strands of her hair. She inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill her lungs.
She was alive.
The thought had settled into her bones over the past few weeks, but it still felt… surreal. Black Wings was behind her now. The life she had known—the one that had once defined her—was gone. And yet, here she was. Still standing.
“You shouldn’t be up here.”
She didn’t need to turn around to know it was Baek.
“You say that every time,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.
Baek stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his white coat, watching her with that same unreadable expression he always wore when he was thinking too much.
Y/N smirked. “Shouldn’t you be working, Dr. Baek?”
“I should be.” He stepped closer. “But you’re more important.”
Something in her chest tightened.
He stopped beside her, resting his arms on the railing as he looked out over the city. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then—
“What now?”
Baek’s voice was quiet, but there was something beneath it. A careful question.
Y/N let out a breath. “I don’t know.”
Baek hummed. “Liar.”
She turned to him, raising an eyebrow.
His gaze flickered to her. “You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”
She hesitated, then exhaled. “I’ll stay.”
Baek didn’t react at first. Then, slowly, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“I knew you’d come around.”
Y/N scoffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Baek chuckled, shaking his head. But there was something warm in his expression, something that made her feel steady, like she wasn’t just floating in uncertainty anymore.
Like she belonged.
After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hospital ID. He held it up between them, the dim light reflecting off the plastic.
Her name was printed on it.
Y/N stared. “You—”
“I pulled some strings,” Baek said casually. “Figured you’d need a place to start.”
Y/N took the ID slowly, running her fingers over the letters. Dr. Y/N.
Her throat tightened.
She looked up at Baek, finding him already watching her.
“Welcome to the team, Malaika,” he said softly.
Y/N swallowed.
Then, before she could second-guess herself, she reached for his hand.
Baek blinked, caught off guard, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled around hers, warm and steady.
For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid of the future.
Because this time, she wasn’t facing it alone.
—
The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed softly overhead, casting a sterile glow over the aisles lined with instant meals, snacks, and drinks. It was a quiet night, the streets outside empty save for a few distant headlights, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Baek Kang-Hyuk had nothing to do but stand beside Y/N as she debated which ramyeon to buy.
She tapped her chin in exaggerated thought. “Should I get spicy or extra spicy?”
Baek gave her a flat look. “You cried last time you had extra spicy.”
Y/N gasped, clutching her chest as if personally wounded. “I did not!”
Baek smirked. “You did. You downed three bottles of milk after, and then you swore you were ‘never eating again.’”
She huffed, turning back to the shelf. “Maybe I was just being dramatic.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe?”
Y/N swatted his arm. “Fine. I’ll get the regular spicy.” Then she turned to him with a teasing glint in her eyes. “And you, Dr. Baek? Still going for the mild one?”
Rolling his eyes, he grabbed a cup of spicy ramyeon and tossed it into the basket. “I can handle spice.”
“Sure you can, Malak,” she said, smirking as she walked to the register.
Baek followed her, shaking his head but smiling.
As they reached the counter, the elderly cashier glanced up at them, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Newlyweds?” she asked, ringing up their items.
Baek choked on air.
Y/N, however, just grinned, tilting her head playfully. “Something like that.”
And just like that, the warmth in Baek’s chest grew a little stronger.
—
The world outside their window was slowly waking up—birds chirping, the occasional car passing by—but inside their small apartment, everything was still and quiet.
Baek stirred first, his body instinctively attuned to early mornings, but the weight against his chest made him hesitate before moving.
Y/N was curled up against him, her face buried in his shirt, her breathing slow and even. One of her arms was draped over his stomach, her fingers loosely curled against his side as if she had fallen asleep mid-thought.
Baek sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He had never been the type to stay in bed longer than necessary, but this—having her warm and safe in his arms—made the idea of moving seem absurd.
A soft mumble escaped Y/N’s lips.
Baek glanced down. “Did you just call me ‘Malak’ in your sleep?”
She groaned, shifting but not pulling away. “Shut up.”
He smirked. “Never.”
Y/N buried her face deeper into his chest. “Five more minutes.”
Baek exhaled, shaking his head. “Hopeless.”
But he tightened his hold around her and closed his eyes again. Maybe, just this once, he could stay.
—
The soft strumming of a song played from Y/N’s phone, filling their small living room with a gentle melody. She swayed lightly to the rhythm, barefoot, the fading sunset casting golden light over her figure.
Baek sat on the couch, arms crossed, watching her with an amused expression.
“You know I don’t dance,” he said.
Y/N turned to him, hands on her hips. “You stitch people up like it’s nothing, but this scares you?”
He frowned. “It’s different.”
She grabbed his hands, pulling him to his feet. “It’s not. You just follow my lead.”
Baek hesitated, then let out a resigned sigh. He let her place his hands on her waist as she rested hers lightly on his shoulders.
“Just sway,” she murmured, guiding him in slow, simple movements.
At first, he was stiff, too focused on getting it right, but Y/N smiled up at him—so effortlessly, so freely—and something in him melted.
He exhaled, relaxing into the rhythm.
Then, without thinking, he twirled her.
She let out a surprised laugh, her joy infectious. “Look at you, Dr. Baek. Who knew you had moves?”
He smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”
Y/N rested her forehead against his, her voice softer now. “Too late.”
And as they swayed in the quiet of their home, Baek realized that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind dancing as much as he thought.
—
Baek had always been the type to focus intensely when studying, while Y/N had a habit of making notes… and then promptly falling asleep in the middle of them.
Tonight was no different.
He looked up from his textbook to find her slumped over the table, her head resting on her folded arms, soft breaths escaping her lips. Highlighters and open medical journals were scattered around her, her pen still loosely gripped in her fingers.
Baek sighed, shaking his head. “Hopeless,” he muttered under his breath.
Carefully, he pushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen over her face, tucking them behind her ear. He let his fingers linger for just a moment, tracing the soft curve of her cheek before exhaling.
Then, without waking her, he scooped her up in his arms.
Y/N stirred slightly, her head lolling against his shoulder. “Where we going…?” she murmured sleepily.
“To bed,” he said softly.
“Mmm… ‘kay,” she mumbled, curling into his warmth.
Baek chuckled. “You’re lucky I like you.”
Even half-asleep, she smirked. “You love me.”
And damn it, she was right.
Baek exhaled softly, tightening his hold on her as if to ground himself in the reality that she was still here—warm, breathing, alive.
“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice rough with quiet conviction. “I do.”
Y/N made a sleepy sound of acknowledgment, her fingers curling weakly into his shirt, as if she knew, as if she had always known.
Baek carried her through the dimly lit hall, each step feeling heavier with the weight of everything they had been through. The fear of almost losing her, the years of waiting for her to be ready, the desperate, selfish need to keep her in his life.
But now, for the first time, he wasn’t just holding onto a memory or a fleeting moment. He was holding her—his future, his reason to keep going.
And this time, she was holding on just as tightly.
Thank you for accompanying me throughout Malak and Malaika’s journey! i hope we all find someone like Malak who would wait for us, and someone like Malaika who is worth waiting for. fear not, we’ll certainly see more of them in side stories and one shots!
The air in the camp was suffocating, thick with the weight of unspoken goodbyes. Tomorrow, Baek Kang-Hyuk and his team would be gone—back to Korea, back to the life he had promised his father.
Jae-Won sat slouched on a crate, his expression unreadable. “Dr. Baek, maybe you should settle things with Dr. Y/N before we leave.”
Baek stayed silent, his jaw tightening.
“You can’t just disappear without a word again,” Jang-Mi pressed. “Not after everything.”
Everything.
Baek let out a slow breath. What was he supposed to say? That he had been waiting—waiting for her to be ready, to find her own reason for living beyond Black Wings, so that when the time came, she would follow him into the world outside?
But she hadn’t.
And now time had run out.
Before he could answer, the ground shook.
A deafening explosion tore through the air, the force of it knocking Baek off his feet. Smoke, fire, screams—chaos erupted in every direction.
And then—
Her scream.
His stomach dropped.
—
Baek sprinted through the wreckage, his heart slamming against his ribs. The medical tent was barely standing, torn apart by the blast. Blood and debris littered the ground.
And then he saw her.
Y/N lay motionless beneath a collapsed steel beam, her uniform soaked in blood.
For a second, the world stopped.
Then his body moved before his mind could catch up.
“Y/N!” He dropped to his knees, his hands shaking as they brushed against her soot-covered face.
She was alive. But barely.
Jang-Mi appeared beside him, pressing down on the deep wound in Y/N’s abdomen. “She’s critical,” she said, voice clipped with urgency. “Dr. Baek, if we don’t get her into surgery now—”
Baek didn’t wait.
Ignoring his own wounds, he lifted the steel beam off her with a pained grunt, ignoring the sharp burn in his muscles. He could barely register Jang-Mi shouting orders or the alarms blaring in the background.
All he knew was she was slipping away.
And he wouldn’t let her.
—
The emergency tent was a mess, equipment scattered from the bombing. But Baek didn’t care.
Because Y/N lay lifeless on the operating table, her pulse weak, her breaths barely there.
Baek’s hands hovered over her wound. Too much blood lost. Too much damage.
Jang-Mi’s voice cut through his thoughts. “We’re out of compatible blood supplies.”
Baek barely hesitated. “We have the same blood type. Hook me up.”
Jang-Mi’s eyes widened. “Baek, you can’t—”
“I can. I have to.”
His own body was still recovering, but he didn’t care. He gritted his teeth as the needle slipped into his arm, his blood flowing into Y/N’s veins.
Then, with unsteady fingers, he picked up the scalpel.
He had performed hundreds of surgeries under worse conditions. But this time, his hands trembled.
Because this wasn’t just another patient.
This was her.
The woman he had waited for. The woman he had been patient for, giving her the time to grow, to figure out who she was beyond the battlefield.
He had wanted her to find a reason to leave Black Wings behind—not for him, but for herself.
Because she was meant for more than this life.
Because she was meant to be with him.
But if she died—
Baek’s throat burned. His fingers curled into fists, blood dripping onto the surgical table.
If she died, all that waiting, all that hoping—it would be for nothing.
He wouldn’t let it happen.
With renewed focus, he worked faster, suturing the wound with precision. Every second was a battle against the clock, against death itself.
“Stay with me, Malaika,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You have to stay.”
The monitors beeped erratically—slower.
Baek clenched his jaw, fighting the wave of exhaustion crashing over him. His own body was giving out from the transfusion, but he pushed forward.
Because this wasn’t just a surgery.
This was him fighting for her.
For the future they hadn’t had the chance to reach.
For the love he had never gotten to say out loud.
—
Baek Kang-Hyuk staggered under Y/N’s weight, but he didn’t let go. His body screamed in protest—his own blood loss making his vision blur, his legs nearly giving out—but he held onto her like she was the only thing tethering him to this world.
Jae-Won moved to help, but Baek shook his head sharply. No. He had to do this.
The evac point was just ahead—a military-grade helicopter waiting to take them back to Korea. Back to safety. Back to a world that had felt unreachable for so long.
But Baek couldn’t focus on that.
All he could think about was her.
Jang-Mi rushed ahead, prepping the medical team onboard. “Lay her here!” she called over the roar of the helicopter blades.
Baek carefully placed Y/N onto the stretcher, his hands lingering just a second too long on her wrist. Her pulse was faint but steady. It wasn’t enough to calm the storm inside him.
As the team worked around her, hooking her up to IVs and oxygen, Baek slumped into the seat beside her, exhaustion finally dragging him down.
Jae-Won sat across from him, arms crossed. “You look like shit.”
Baek didn’t respond. His gaze never left Y/N.
Jang-Mi adjusted the oxygen mask over Y/N’s face before looking at Baek. “She’s stable—for now. But she lost too much blood. Even with the transfusion, her body is weak. If she doesn’t wake up soon…”
Baek clenched his fists.
He already knew.
She had to wake up.
The helicopter lifted off, the ground beneath them shrinking into nothingness. Their duty here was over.
But his battle wasn’t.
Not until she opened her eyes.
—
She was weightless. Floating. Caught between wakefulness and oblivion.
There was pain—dull and distant, like a memory she couldn’t quite reach.
And then there was him.
A voice cutting through the darkness, low and rough, calling her name.
“Malaika.”
She wanted to answer. Wanted to reach out.
But she was so, so tired.
So she let the darkness take her again.
—
The hospital in Korea smelled of antiseptic and fresh linen. It was a far cry from the chaos of Black Wings—sterile, quiet, suffocating.
Baek sat beside Y/N’s bed, arms resting on his knees, head bowed. He had barely moved in hours.
The doctors had done everything they could. Now, it was up to her.
He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re making me wait again, Malaika.” His voice was quiet, but the frustration, the exhaustion, the fear bled through.
He had waited for her once before.
Waited for her to find herself. To understand that she was more than Black Wings. That she had a life waiting for her beyond the battlefield.
But she hadn’t come.
And now?
Now, she was making him wait again—this time, on the edge of life and death.
Baek leaned forward, resting his forehead against their joined hands. “Wake up,” he murmured. “Just wake up.”
And then, her fingers twitched beneath his palm.
Part 7
I think this confirmed that I cannot write angst🙂↕️. Hope you all liked this chapter!
Warnings: Violence, Explicit Mention of Injuries, Language
Synopsis: In the heart of war zones and under the shadow of an elite underground medical organization, two brilliant doctors, Baek Kang-Hyuk and Y/N, once stood side by side—partners in chaos, reluctant allies turned something more.
Baek left Black Wings to fulfill a promise to his father, returning to Korea in search of a life beyond the battlefield. Y/N stayed behind, unable to let go of the only world she had ever known.
Years later, fate forces them back together. In the high-pressure corridors of the Operating Room, unfinished business bleeds into every exchanged glance and every suture stitched in urgency.
But old wounds don’t heal easily. When ghosts from Black Wings resurface, and the past demands answers, Baek and Y/N must confront the one thing they’ve spent years avoiding—each other.
Because love is like an open wound. And some sutures were never meant to be left unfinished.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
5 Reasons why Baek Kang-Hyuk Like Y/N, and 1 Reason why She Likes Him (One Shot)
Soooo sorry for the late update! I’ve been swamped with university lately😓. This will be the last part showing their past, we’ll be back to the present for the next ones! Enjoy reading this long chapter!
Master link
Part 4
Code Red: Unfinished Sutures (Part 5)
Baek Kang-Hyuk x Fem!Reader
The night in Black Wings was quiet for once—no urgent calls, no gunfire in the distance, just the distant hum of generators and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. The kind of stillness that never lasted long.
Y/N sat on a supply crate, rolling her sore shoulder absentmindedly. Across from her, Baek stood leaning against the table, arms crossed, watching her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher.
She sighed. “You’re staring.”
Baek Kang Hyuk didn’t deny it.
“Malaika.”
She hummed, used to the name by now. “What?”
Baek tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady. “Do you know why I call you that?”
She smirked. “Because it means angel?”
He shook his head.
She frowned. “Then what?”
A pause. The kind that stretched, thick and heavy, between them.
Then, his voice—quiet, certain. “Because it means beautiful.”
Y/N blinked.
Of all the things he could have said, she hadn’t expected that.
She had heard people call her beautiful before, but coming from him, it felt different. Not casual. Not meaningless. But as if he had carried the word with him for a long time, choosing now to let it slip free.
Her throat felt tight. “Oh.”
Baek’s lips twitched, almost amused at her sudden loss for words. “Oh?”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes to mask the warmth creeping up her neck. “It’s just unexpected, that’s all.”
He shrugged. “It shouldn’t be.”
She looked at him then, really looked at him—the sharp angles of his face softened under the dim light, the quiet confidence in his stance, the way his eyes, always so guarded, held something unspoken when they met hers.
She had no idea what to say to that.
So she didn’t.
Instead, she let the silence stretch between them, let the weight of his words settle.
For once, neither of them felt the need to fill the space.
And in that quiet moment, she thought—maybe this is enough.
—
Baek Kang-Hyuk had always believed he was a man of control.
Surgical precision, discipline, restraint—these were the principles that guided him through war zones and operating tables alike. He could shut out pain, suppress exhaustion, and detach himself from emotions when the situation demanded it.
But when it came to her?
He was failing. Miserably.
He caught himself watching her too often, lingering a second too long when their hands brushed, seeking her out in a room even when he had no reason to.
It was getting worse.
He knew it the moment he found himself in the medical tent long after his shift had ended, sitting on a rickety stool across from her while she reviewed patient charts.
Y/N barely looked up. “You’re hovering, Malak.”
His lips twitched. “I’m supervising.”
“Supervising what? Me reading?”
Baek leaned back, arms crossed. “You tend to overwork yourself. Someone has to make sure you don’t pass out at your desk.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. They both knew she had a bad habit of skipping meals and forgetting to sleep when she got too focused.
A comfortable silence settled between them.
Baek should have left then. Should have pulled himself away before this turned into another night of pretending he wasn’t here just for her.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he found his gaze drawn to the soft curve of her lips, the furrow of her brow, the way the dim lantern light traced the delicate slope of her nose.
A dangerous thought settled in his mind.
I could get used to this.
To her presence. To the quiet moments stolen between chaos. To the way she challenged him, grounded him, made him feel—
Y/N exhaled suddenly, rubbing her temples. “I swear, if I have to write one more medical report…”
Baek smirked. “Want me to do it for you?”
She blinked, caught off guard. “You hate paperwork.”
“I do,” he admitted. “But you look like you’re about to throw yourself onto the nearest gurney, so…” He shrugged. “I can make an exception.”
Y/N studied him for a long moment.
Then, to his absolute ruin, she smiled. A real one this time—small, a little tired, but warm in a way that made something in his chest tighten.
“You’re being weird, Malak.”
Baek scoffed. “I’m always weird.”
“Not like this.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, amused. “What’s going on with you?”
He opened his mouth—then shut it.
Because what was he supposed to say? That he was getting addicted to her? That he had crossed a line in his mind, and now there was no going back? That every time she so much as looked at him, he felt like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to jump?
Instead, he said, “Nothing.”
Y/N hummed, unconvinced, but let it go.
Baek turned his attention to the reports, picking up a pen. He needed a distraction, something to keep his mind from wandering back to the way she smelled faintly of antiseptic and jasmine, or how her hair had come loose from her ponytail, strands falling across her cheek—
Damn it.
He was in trouble.
—
Keeping a secret in Black Wings was nearly impossible. Whispers spread faster than bullet wounds healed, and privacy was a luxury no one could afford.
Yet somehow, Baek and Y/N had managed.
It wasn’t an official relationship—not in the way most would define it. There were no labels, no confessions, just stolen moments in the dead of night, quiet glances across the chaos of the field, and hands that lingered a little too long when they thought no one was watching.
They weren’t naïve. Black Wings wasn’t the kind of place where love flourished. Attachments were liabilities, and emotions could get you killed. So they had agreed—keep it quiet. Keep it safe.
And it had worked.
Until it didn’t.
“You’re reckless.”
Baek’s voice was low, edged with frustration as he pressed an alcohol-soaked cloth to the gash on Y/N’s arm. They were hidden away in one of the smaller tents, out of sight from the rest of the camp.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, watching him through half-lidded eyes.
He exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath in Korean. “You’re impossible.”
She smirked, despite the sting of antiseptic. “And yet, here you are.”
Baek didn’t answer, but his hands softened against her skin. He worked in silence, the only sound between them the rustling of bandages and the occasional hiss of pain she couldn’t quite hold back.
Then, his fingers lingered. Just for a second. Just long enough for Y/N to notice.
Her breath caught.
Baek looked up. Their faces were close—too close.
Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
Then—
“Ahem.”
They both froze.
Baek turned his head sharply, and there, standing at the entrance of the tent, arms crossed and expression thoroughly unimpressed, was Walter.
Y/N immediately yanked her arm away from Baek, straightening up as if nothing had happened. “Walter.”
Baek, to his credit, remained calm. But there was a flicker of something—annoyance? Resignation?—in his eyes.
Walter raised a brow. “So… should I be concerned that our top doctors are sneaking off to patch each other up instead of reporting injuries properly?”
Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “It’s nothing.”
Walter’s gaze flicked between them, unimpressed. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a knowing smirk.
“Oh, I see.”
Baek tensed. “You see what?”
Walter chuckled. “You two are terrible at hiding things.”
Y/N groaned. “Walter, don’t—”
He raised a hand, stopping her. “Relax, I’m not going to tell anyone.”
Baek sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re insufferable.”
Walter grinned. “And you’re in love with her.”
Silence.
Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, and she glanced at Baek, who had suddenly gone very, very still.
Walter tilted his head, amused. “Oh? Did I strike a nerve?”
Baek shot him a glare so sharp it could’ve sliced through steel. “Get out.”
Walter laughed, stepping back toward the tent flap. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”
Y/N threw a bandage at his head, but he ducked, grinning as he disappeared into the night.
—
Secrecy was exhausting.
Between dodging suspicions, keeping their interactions professional in front of others, and ensuring that no one—especially Walter—had more fuel to tease them with, Baek and Y/N barely had a moment alone.
Which was why when they did get one, it felt like a stolen piece of something forbidden.
The mission had gone sideways.
A supply run had turned into an ambush, and what should have been a quick in-and-out job had left Black Wings scrambling for an escape. The safehouse was overcrowded, filled with injured operatives and exhausted medics working under dim lights and thinning patience.
Y/N had been tending to a particularly stubborn gunshot wound when Baek caught her eye from across the room. His expression was unreadable, but there was something there—a flicker of concern, a silent question.
She gave a barely noticeable nod. I’m fine.
He looked unconvinced.
It took another hour before the situation calmed enough for them to slip away, unnoticed.
Baek found her first, hidden in the shadows of an alley behind the safehouse. The dim glow of the streetlight barely reached her, but it was enough to catch the tired slump of her shoulders.
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
She didn’t even turn. “So are you.”
Baek huffed, stepping closer. “You’ve been running on fumes.”
Y/N let out a quiet chuckle, though it lacked her usual bite. “Look who’s talking.”
For a moment, there was nothing but the distant hum of the city around them. Then, Baek moved.
She stiffened as his fingers brushed against her wrist, trailing up until he reached her shoulder. It was a light touch—barely there—but it sent a shiver down her spine.
“You’re hurt,” he muttered.
“Just bruises.”
His fingers lingered, just for a second too long. He shifted forward, closing the space between them. His warmth, his presence—it was overwhelming in a way she would never admit.
Then, softly, he murmured—
“Malaika.”
Her breath caught.
She knew what it meant. Angel. Beautiful.
But the way he said it—low, reverent, like a confession—felt like something else entirely.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Because suddenly, it hit her.
Baek had always been Malak. He had always been the one watching over others, carrying burdens too heavy for one person, shielding people even when it hurt him.
But now, standing under the flickering streetlight, looking at her like she was something precious—
She was Malaika. She was the one being held in his gaze, steady and sure.
And she had no idea what to do with that.
For the first time in a long time, she felt like she wasn’t just another soldier in Black Wings. She wasn’t just another medic, another pair of hands trying to save lives.
She was seen.
By him.
Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.
She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare speak.
Because if she did, she might do something reckless.
Like close the remaining distance between them.
Like give in to the way his gaze lingered, dark and knowing.
Like finally stop pretending that this was just a secret they were keeping from others and not from themselves.
—
The night was thick with smoke and fading embers, the air heavy with something more than just exhaustion—finality.
Black Wings was unraveling.
Some had already left. Others lingered, waiting for orders that would never come. But the truth was undeniable. This was the end.
Baek Kang-Hyuk sat on the edge of a makeshift cot, rolling the tension from his shoulders. His hands were sore, raw from hours of work, but his mind was elsewhere.
On her.
She was still inside the tent, bent over a stack of reports, writing like nothing was changing. Like the world outside wasn’t shifting beneath them.
With a quiet sigh, he stood and made his way toward her.
Inside, the air was warmer, quieter.
Y/N was seated at a wooden desk, her pen moving steadily across paper that no longer held any meaning. The dim lantern beside her cast a soft glow on her face, outlining the exhaustion in her eyes.
She didn’t look up.
“You’re really leaving,” she said, more statement than question.
Baek exhaled. “I have to.”
The pen stilled.
She finally met his gaze. “Because of your father.”
His jaw tensed. She always saw through him.
“This isn’t just about me,” he said. “I made him a promise. I told him I’d come back to Korea. That I’d—” His throat tightened. “That I’d do something with my life outside of this.”
Y/N watched him, unreadable.
“And Black Wings isn’t something?” she asked quietly.
Baek raked a hand through his hair. “It’s not forever. We both knew that.”
A beat of silence.
Then, she let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “I don’t think I did.”
Baek frowned. “What?”
Y/N looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers like she was trying to hold onto something invisible.
“I don’t know how to live outside of Black Wings.”
Baek’s breath caught.
She wasn’t saying it for sympathy. There was no desperation in her voice, no plea for him to stay. It was just a fact—a quiet, terrifying truth she had only now put into words.
“You can leave,” he said, softer this time. “Come with me.”
Y/N smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “And then what? Work in a city hospital? Be normal?” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t know how.”
Baek took a step closer. “You could learn.”
Her fingers curled into a fist. “And if I can’t?”
Baek exhaled sharply. “Damn it, Y/N—”
She finally looked up at him, and the look in her eyes stopped him cold.
“Malak,” she murmured, the name that had always bound them together. The name only she could say the way she did. “This is my life.”
Baek felt something tighten in his chest.
He had always known this moment would come. From the first time he realized what Black Wings meant to her—what it gave her. A purpose. A home. An identity.
He had always known that when the time came for him to leave, she might not follow.
And yet, standing here, watching her choose this place over a life they could have had together, it still felt like a wound he hadn’t been prepared for.
He swallowed. “So that’s it?”
Y/N’s expression softened. “I can’t ask you to stay.”
And she wouldn’t.
Because she knew him too well. Knew the weight of his promise to his father. Knew that if she so much as whispered stay with me, he just might.
And that wasn’t fair.
So instead, she stood, closing the space between them until they were only inches apart.
Baek’s hands twitched at his sides.
For a moment, he thought she might reach for him. Might give him some sign that this—they—hadn’t just been another thing destined to slip through his fingers.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she just looked at him, as if memorizing every inch of his face.
And then she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear it—
“Go.”
Baek clenched his jaw.
And this time, he did.
He turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the night.
Y/N didn’t move.
She just stood there, listening to the echo of his departure.
Then, in the silence he left behind, she made a decision.
She would wait.
No matter how long it took.
Not knowing that Baek Kang-Hyuk also decided at that moment.
To wait for her until she’s ready to come with him.
Part 6
AAAAAAAA. ngl, i had so much writer’s block while writing this🙂↕️. i think this series is getting quite long already? i might finish it within the next 2 parts! lmk what you guys think about this🫶🏻
Baek Kang-Hyuk first met Y/N over the open chest of a dying man.
The surgical tent was sweltering, the air thick with sweat and blood. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors battled against the panicked voices of medics, but Baek only focused on one thing—the exposed heart beneath his hands.
“Clamp,” he barked, not looking up.
The instrument was placed into his palm with practiced efficiency, but the fingers that handed it to him weren’t familiar. They were steady, firm, purposeful.
“You’re doing it wrong,” a voice cut through the noise.
Baek’s eyes snapped up, locking onto Y/N’s for the first time.
She was calm, too calm for the chaos around them, her mask pulled up just enough that he could only see the sharpness of her gaze.
Baek clenched his jaw. “Excuse me?”
Y/N motioned toward the incision. “The pressure needs to be redistributed. You’re sealing the rupture, but if you don’t account for the surrounding tissue, you’ll compromise circulation.”
Baek scoffed. “I know what I’m doing.”
Y/N didn’t back down. “Then prove it.”
A challenge.
He held her gaze for a fraction of a second before turning back to his patient.
She was right.
The tension in the surrounding tissue would have collapsed the artery within the hour.
Without another word, Baek adjusted the suture, making the precise change she suggested.
Y/N handed him the next tool before he even asked for it.
Their first surgery together was performed in silence, their hands moving in harmony as if they had been doing this for years.
When it was over, Baek removed his gloves and finally looked at her.
Y/N was already pulling off her mask, the barest smirk on her lips. “You’re welcome.”
Baek exhaled. “Cocky.”
“Efficient.”
She walked away before he could respond.
Baek watched her go, exhaling sharply.
He already knew she was going to be a problem.
—
Weeks passed, and Baek learned three things about Y/N.
One: She was brilliant. Infuriatingly so.
Two: She had no patience for incompetence.
Three: She never let anyone take care of her.
The third one, he learned the hard way.
It happened on a night thick with rain, the kind that made the tents leak and turned the dirt beneath their boots into sludge. They had been running on fumes for 32 hours straight, treating soldiers who kept coming in faster than they could keep up.
Baek barely noticed when Y/N went quiet.
Didn’t register how she pressed a hand to her ribs every time she moved.
Until she nearly collapsed beside the operating table.
Baek was at her side in an instant, steadying her before she hit the ground.
“You’re burning up,” he muttered, gripping her wrist to check her pulse.
She tried to push him away. “I’m fine.”
His grip tightened. “You just passed out, Malaika.”
The nickname slipped out without thought. He saw the way her expression flickered, just for a second, before she forced it back into something unreadable.
Baek ignored it. “Where are you hurt?”
Y/N exhaled sharply. “It’s nothing.”
Baek didn’t believe her. He hooked his fingers into the hem of her shirt, lifting it just enough to see—
A deep gash across her side.
Baek went still.
His fingers grazed the bruised skin around the wound, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. “How long?”
Y/N sighed. “Since the last bombing.”
Baek’s jaw clenched. That was four days ago.
“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, his voice quieter now.
Y/N smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Takes one to know one.”
Baek didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk back.
Instead, he reached for the medical kit and said, “Let me.”
And for the first time since he met her, she didn’t argue.
—
Baek never let himself stare at Y/N for too long.
Not in the surgical tent, where they worked in perfect sync.
Not in the rare quiet moments, when exhaustion softened the sharp edges of her.
Not even now, when the flickering lantern light caught on the strands of hair she hadn’t bothered to tie back, making her look softer than she ever let herself be.
And yet, he was staring.
Y/N was seated across from him, rolling her shoulder with a quiet grimace. The day had been brutal—too many patients, too little time—but she still moved like she could take on another 12 hours if she had to.
Baek scoffed. “You should rest.”
Y/N arched a brow. “So should you.”
He didn’t argue. Didn’t look away, either.
She exhaled, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I used to think you were insufferable.”
Baek huffed. “You still think that.”
“True.” A smirk. “But now I also think you care more than you let on.”
His jaw tightened, fingers curling against his knee. “I care about the job.”
Y/N hummed. “Right. The job.”
Baek should have left it at that. Should have shut down the conversation before it turned into something he wasn’t ready for.
But then Y/N tilted her head, watching him with that sharp gaze of hers—the one that made him feel like she saw past the walls he built.
“You hesitate sometimes,” she murmured.
Baek’s breath caught. “I don’t.”
She smiled, just barely. “You do. Not when you’re operating. But when it comes to me.”
Silence.
Baek felt it in his ribs, pressing against something he refused to name.
Y/N leaned forward slightly, her voice quieter now. “Why?”
Baek swallowed. He had no answer—none that he was willing to say out loud.
So he did what he always did. He stood.
“Get some sleep, Y/N.” His voice was rougher than intended.
Y/N watched him for a second longer, then leaned back with a knowing smile.
“Goodnight, Baek.”
He walked away before he could do something reckless. Before he could say something irreversible.
Because the truth was—
He did hesitate.
—
Baek Kang Hyuk didn’t know why he stopped walking.
It had been a long day—one of the worst. The kind where bodies kept piling up, where every patient that survived felt like a miracle, and every one they lost felt like a personal failure. He should have been in his tent, closing his eyes for what little rest he could steal before the next emergency.
But then he saw her.
Y/N was sitting by the supply tent, head tilted up to the sky. The moonlight softened her features, casting a glow over the dark smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes. Her hands rested loosely on her lap, but he could tell—she was tense. Holding it all in, the way she always did.
Baek exhaled. His feet moved before his mind made the decision.
“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was quieter than usual.
Y/N startled slightly but didn’t turn. “Not really.”
He hesitated before sitting down next to her. Close, but not too close. He could still smell the lingering scent of antiseptic on her clothes, mixed with something undeniably her.
Neither of them spoke.
For once, there was no competition, no bickering, no sharp words to cover up something softer. Just silence. And in that silence, something settled between them—something fragile, something dangerous.
“You did good today,” Baek said finally.
Y/N let out a dry chuckle. “We lost four people.”
“And saved twenty.”
She glanced at him, searching his face like she was looking for something. Maybe reassurance. Maybe something else.
Baek didn’t look away.
A breeze drifted between them, cool against the lingering heat of the day. Y/N sighed and, before she could think better of it, leaned her head against his shoulder.
He stiffened.
Not because he didn’t want it. But because he did.
Too much.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to relax. “You’re heavier than you look.”
Y/N huffed a laugh, but she didn’t move. “Shut up, Malak.”
He did.
And for the first time in a long time, Baek Kang Hyuk let himself stay.
—
It was raining.
The storm rolled in fast, turning the dirt paths to mud, hammering against the tent fabric like it wanted to break through. It smelled like wet earth and blood.
Y/N was already drenched when Baek caught up to her.
“Are you insane?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the downpour. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
Y/N turned, her soaked clothes clinging to her, hair sticking to her forehead. Her eyes burned. “Neither should you.”
Baek let out a sharp breath, stepping closer. “What the hell were you thinking, running into that crossfire?”
“I was saving people.”
“You almost got yourself killed.”
Y/N scoffed. “Like you wouldn’t have done the same.”
Baek clenched his jaw. That wasn’t the point. That was never the point.
“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was rough, raw. “I don’t—” He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his rain-drenched hair. “I can’t—”
Y/N stared at him.
Oh.
Oh.
“Baek—”
And then his hands were on her.
Not rough, not forceful—just there. Gripping her arms like he needed to ground himself, like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth. His breath was uneven, lips parted, eyes dark with something unspoken.
She shivered—not from the cold.
Baek hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough for her to pull away.
But she didn’t.
So he kissed her.
It was desperate, messy, full of frustration and something deeper that neither of them wanted to name. The rain soaked through everything, but they both didn’t care. His hand moved up to cup her jaw, tilting her face to deepen the kiss, like he was trying to commit the shape of her to memory.
Y/N gasped against his lips, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt.
And for the first time, they weren’t just fighting for someone else.
For the first time, they chose this—chose each other.
Part 5
This was a challenge to make! i really wanted to give you guys a glimpse of their past relationship, i hope i did well. lmk what you guys think about this!
Every second that passed felt like a needle digging into his skin, sharp and relentless. He had already snapped at Jae-Won, sent Gyeong-Won on a useless errand, and made Jang-Mi so uncomfortable with his pacing that she left the tent entirely.
None of it helped.
She walked away, he reminded himself.
She was strong enough to walk away.
But that didn’t erase the image of her blood-streaked shoulder, the way she had clutched at it, the wince she had barely let slip before she bit it back.
Before he could think better of it, he was already pushing past the tent flaps.
—
Inside, Y/N sat on a cot, her jacket half-off as she struggled to reach her injured shoulder. The blood had soaked through her shirt, the dark stain spreading ominously across the fabric.
She didn’t look up when he entered. “Don’t start.”
Baek ignored her, crossing the space between them in two strides.
She flinched when his hands ghosted over her wound, but she didn’t pull away fast enough. His fingers brushed against the torn fabric, his touch gentle despite the storm raging behind his eyes.
“You’re bleeding,” he muttered, voice tight.
“No shit,” she shot back, breath hitching when she tried to shift.
Baek clenched his jaw and reached for the medical kit beside her.
“I can do it myself,” she said, but the exhaustion in her voice betrayed her.
He scoffed. “With what? Your other useless arm?”
She shot him a glare. “I don’t need your help.”
Baek’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he crouched in front of her, his eyes dark and unreadable.
“Let me,” he said, quieter this time. Not an order, not a challenge—just a simple request.
Y/N stared at him, expression unreadable. She could feel the heat of his presence, the warmth of his breath so close to her skin. The tension between them was suffocating, thick with something she didn’t dare name.
Finally, she exhaled and let her arm fall to her side.
Baek didn’t waste a second. His hands were steady as he cut away the blood-soaked fabric, his fingers lingering just a little too long against her bare skin. He worked in silence, the only sounds in the tent the rustling of bandages and the sharp inhales she couldn’t quite hold back.
“Aray.” (Ouch.)
“Tch.” He scoffed, tough in words, but his actions were much gentle now.
When he finished, his touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, his thumb brushing against her collarbone.
“Done,” he murmured.
Y/N swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away. “I told you I could handle it.”
Baek’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Yeah. And I told you I don’t listen.”
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then, before she could say anything else, he stood up and walked out, leaving behind the warmth of his touch and the weight of something unspoken.
—
Baek doesn’t go far.
He meant to leave—to put distance between himself and the way her skin had burned under his touch, the way she let him take care of her despite every protest. But instead, he finds himself standing just outside the tent, fists clenched, heart hammering.
And then he hears it.
A sharp intake of breath. A muffled wince. The sound of fabric rustling as Y/N struggles to move.
Baek exhales through his nose and turns back.
He steps inside just in time to see her trying—and failing—to put her jacket back on.
“Seriously?” His voice is flat, but there’s an edge to it. “You’re injured, and you’re already making it worse?”
Y/N startles slightly, turning to face him. “What are you still doing here?”
Baek strides forward, plucking the jacket from her grasp before she can protest. “You’re being an idiot,” he mutters, shaking his head.
She glares at him. “And you’re being—”
Her words falter when he moves closer.
His fingers graze her arm as he helps ease the jacket onto her good shoulder, his touch careful but firm. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t meet her gaze—just focuses on the task like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Y/N swallows. Her throat feels dry.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she murmurs.
Baek’s hands still for just a second before he continues. “And yet, here I am.”
She exhales sharply. “Baek—”
“You didn’t even let me check if the bullet grazed bone,” he cuts her off, his voice quieter now, rougher. “You walked away like it didn’t matter.”
She bites the inside of her cheek. “Because it doesn’t.”
His jaw tightens. “Bullshit.”
Y/N finally looks at him then, and the intensity in his gaze nearly knocks the breath out of her.
For a second, she thinks he might say something—something dangerous, something neither of them are ready for.
But then, footsteps echo outside the tent, and Jae-Won’s voice rings out.
“Dr. Baek!“
Baek hesitates. Just for a second.
Then, without another word, he turns and leaves.
And Y/N is left standing there, jacket half-on, pulse unsteady, knowing that whatever just happened between them is far from over.
—
The night air was thick with smoke and blood, but Y/N barely noticed.
She should be inside, resting, but instead, she stood just beyond the tents, staring at the ruins in the distance.
She knew he’d come. He always did.
“I told you not to be out here,” Baek’s voice cut through the darkness.
Y/N didn’t turn around. “You always tell me what to do, Malak.”
He exhaled sharply, stepping closer. “And you never listen.”
She let out a humorless chuckle. “Not to you.”
Silence. The space between them was filled with ghosts.
She did turn then, looking up at him, exhaustion written into the lines of her face. “No, Malak. That’s you.”
Baek stiffened.
“You always leave,” she murmured.
“Every time, without fail. You show up when it’s convenient, patch things up like you’re fixing a patient, and then disappear before the bleeding even stops.”
His fingers twitched at his sides. “You think I wanted to leave?”
“It doesn’t matter what you wanted.” Her voice wavered, but she didn’t back down. “It’s what you did.”
Baek swallowed hard, something raw flickering in his gaze. “I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” she whispered.
And for a second, the weight of her words pulled them both under.
Because Baek Kang-Hyuk left because he had to, but Y/N stayed because she didn’t know how to do anything else.
The pattern repeated. The story never changed.
But once—once, a lifetime ago—it had been different.
—
There had been no smoke, no ruins, no wreckage back then. Only steel hallways and dim lights, the ever-present hum of electricity running through the Black Wings base.
Y/N had been patching up her knuckles, muttering under her breath when Baek had walked in.
“What happened this time?” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
She didn’t look up. “Sparring.”
“With who? A bear?”
She shot him a glare, but it softened when she saw the corner of his lips twitch.
Baek pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room in a few strides. He crouched beside her, reaching for her hand. She let him.
“I could’ve handled it,” she murmured.
“I know,” he said, not looking up as he carefully cleaned the wound.
The silence between them was comfortable. They had done this before—too many times to count.
She studied him as he worked. The way his brows furrowed, the way he bit the inside of his cheek when he was focused.
She felt it then—the ache of something unnamed, something bigger than both of them.
“Baek,” she said quietly.
He paused.
Y/N hesitated, then swallowed hard. “If I ever leave…”
His grip on her wrist tightened, just slightly. “You won’t.”
“But if I do,” she insisted. “Will you come after me?”
Baek finally looked up, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
“I’ll find you,” he said, like it was a promise.
And for a while, she believed him.
—
But the thing about promises was that they broke just as easily as bones.
Y/N stared at Baek now, in the ruins of a war they didn’t start but couldn’t escape.
And she realized something.
He did find her. Every single time.
But he never stayed.
She exhaled, the weight of the past pressing into her ribs.
“I should go,” she murmured.
Baek’s fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for her but knew better.
“Y/N—”
“Don’t,” she cut him off, shaking her head. “Not this time.”
Part 4
I felt so unsure about this part! but i wanted to highlight the unspoken tension between them, and give a glimpse on their past! lmk how you guys felt abt this one, and what do you want to see in the next parts🥰 comment here if you want to be in the taglist!
You guys loved the first part, so I js had to make a second part!🤭
—
Part 1
Code Red: Unfinished Sutures (Part 2)
Baek Kang Hyuk x Fem!Reader
Inside the crowded medical tent, the team worked in synchronized chaos. The air smelled of antiseptic and sweat, the rhythmic beeping of monitors the only thing grounding them amidst the whirlwind of trauma care.
Baek Kang-Hyuk finished suturing a patient’s wound when he noticed Jaewon, Jangmi, and Gyeongwon staring at him from across the room.
He ignored them.
Jaewon leaned toward Jangmi. "He’s pretending we’re not here."
Gyeongwon snorted. "Because he knows we have questions."
Baek sighed, tossing his gloves in the disposal bin. "If you have something to say, say it."
Jaewon grinned. "So. Malaika, huh?"
Baek didn’t react. "What about her?"
Jangmi crossed her arms. "Come on, Dr. Baek. You said her name like it meant something."
"It’s a name," Baek replied flatly.
Gyeongwon raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you’ve never reacted to anyone the way you reacted to her."
Jaewon smirked. "You looked like you’d seen a ghost. A very pretty ghost."
Baek exhaled sharply. "*Focus on your patients.*"
Jangmi wasn’t letting up. "So, what’s the deal? Former colleague? Ex-girlfriend?"
Jaewon gasped dramatically. "Former lover?!"
Baek shot him a glare. "Don’t be ridiculous."
"Okay, but you know her," Gyeongwon pressed. "And it’s personal."
Baek didn’t answer.
Jaewon grinned. "So it is personal."
Baek turned to Gyeongwon. "You’re supposed to be the rational one."
Gyeongwon just shrugged. "I’m curious too."
Baek pinched the bridge of his nose, regretting every life choice that led him to this moment.
Finally, he muttered, "She’s a reckless idiot who doesn’t know when to stop.”
Jangmi grinned. "And you care."
Baek looked away. "That’s not the point."
Jaewon nudged Gyeongwon. "It’s totally the point."
Before Baek could respond, a soldier burst into the tent, panting.
"Dr. Baek! We need your help—we have an emergency!"
Jangmi exchanged a look with Jaewon. "Guess we’ll get our answers soon."
Jaewon smirked. "Let’s see how not personal this is."
Baek ignored them and grabbed his med kit.
"Move out. Now."
—
"Malaika! We need your help—we have an emergency!"
The panicked voice tore Y/N from the two-hour nap she had barely managed to steal. Her body screamed in protest, but years of experience had taught her to push through exhaustion. She grabbed her gear and rushed out of the tent, her boots kicking up dust as she ran.
Outside, the sky was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning metal mixing with blood and dirt. Gunfire rattled in the distance—closer than before.
"What happened?" she demanded, strapping on her gloves as she met a frantic soldier.
"Ambush near the main road. Civilians injured—some critical. We need to get them out before they bleed out or the syndicate gets to them first!"
Y/N's pulse spiked, but she shoved the panic down. "How many?"
"Five that we know of. Maybe more."
She nodded sharply. "Get a vehicle ready. We’re bringing them back."
"You don’t need to go yourself, doc," the soldier hesitated. "It’s dangerous out there."
Y/N scoffed. "Yeah? So will you be if you stop me again. Move."
The soldier swallowed hard and nodded, sprinting toward the waiting vehicle. Y/N adjusted her kit, mentally preparing for what she would see—bullet wounds, shattered limbs, faces contorted in pain. She had done this a hundred times before.
Still, she wasn’t prepared for what she saw when she reached the road.
The first patient was already loaded into a transport, but two more lay in the dirt, bleeding out. And crouched beside one of them, hands slick with crimson, was a figure she never expected to see again.
Baek Kang-Hyuk.
The breath caught in her throat.
"Malak?" she murmured before she could stop herself.
His head snapped up, and for a brief second, amidst the chaos, their eyes met.
Recognition. Shock. And then—irritation.
Baek scowled. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?"
Her brain snapped back into action. "Jae-Won, take over the other patient! I’ll handle this one!"
She dropped to her knees beside Baek, barely registering the way their shoulders brushed. The soldier he was working on had taken a shot to the side—too much blood loss.
"Pressure," she ordered, reaching for a hemostat.
“Already on it," Baek muttered, shifting to make room for her.
Their hands moved in perfect synchronization, sealing the wound with practiced efficiency. For all their personal conflicts, in an emergency, they were seamless.
"BP dropping," Jae-Won called from the other side. "Shit—he’s going into shock!"
"Move him to the truck!" Y/N ordered.
Baek barely spared her a glance before lifting the patient with one smooth motion. Just as they started toward the vehicle, another explosion rocked the ground beneath them.
"GET DOWN!"
Baek barely had time to react before instinct took over—his arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her close just as the explosion sent them flying. They hit the ground hard, his body twisting at the last second to shield her from the worst of the impact.
For a moment, the world blurred into ringing silence, the air thick with dust and smoke.
Y/N groaned, her breath uneven as she stirred against him. "I hate this job."
Baek let out a sharp breath, his hold on her tightening for just a second longer than necessary. "Then quit," he shot back, his voice rough.
Ignoring him, she shifted, her fingers grazing his temple where a thin streak of blood trailed down his skin. "Are you bleeding?" Her tone was softer now, almost careful.
"Not mine," he muttered, but he didn’t move, letting her touch linger for just a second longer than necessary. His eyes locked onto hers, something unreadable flickering in their depths.
A breath passed between them—unspoken, heavy, undeniable.
Then reality snapped back. Baek exhaled sharply, forcing himself upright. "Truck’s hit," he said, voice steadier now. "We can’t take the road back."
But even as he pulled away, his fingers still tingled with the memory of holding her close.
Y/N cursed under her breath. "Then how the hell do we get out of here?"
A soldier sprinted toward them, panting. "Doctor—Dr. Baek! The secondary transport was shot down. We need to move, now!"
Baek ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. Then his eyes flicked to something behind her.
Y/N turned, following his gaze.
A motorcycle.
She blinked. "Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."
Baek was already moving. "You coming, or are you planning to stay and argue?"
She clenched her jaw. "I hate you."
"You’ll hate getting shot more," he quipped, swinging onto the bike. "Get on."
The soldiers loaded the remaining injured onto a makeshift stretcher attached to the back of a second bike. Y/N hesitated for half a second before climbing behind him, gripping his waist tightly.
Baek glanced over his shoulder. "Hold on."
"I am holding on," she snapped.
"Not for yourself," he muttered under his breath, just low enough that she almost didn’t catch it.
But she did.
Before she could say anything, Baek gunned the engine, and they shot forward.
The battlefield blurred around them—gunfire cracking past their heads, the burning wreckage of vehicles flashing in their periphery.
"Left!" she shouted.
"I see it!"
Baek swerved hard, narrowly dodging a collapsed building. The road ahead was blocked—fighters were closing in.
Y/N’s heart pounded. "We need another route!"
"Working on it!"
A bullet whizzed past, narrowly missing her shoulder. She turned, pulling her handgun from her holster.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Baek barked.
"Saving our asses!" she retorted, firing a shot that took down one of their pursuers.
Baek cursed but didn’t argue. Instead, he kicked the bike into a higher gear. The cityscape was a blur as they weaved through debris, dodging bullets and explosions.
"Almost there!"
Just then, a sniper's shot rang out.
A sharp, searing pain tore through Y/N's shoulder.
She gasped, her grip slipping. The shock of it made her vision blur for a second, but Baek reacted instantly, one hand leaving the handlebars to grab her wrist and keep her steady.
"Stay with me!" he ordered.
"I'm fine," she grit out.
"You're bleeding," he snapped.
"I'm fine," she repeated, tighter this time.
Baek's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. Instead, he pushed the bike harder, racing against the gunfire until, finally, they reached the safe zone.
As soon as they skidded to a stop, Baek jumped off and turned to her. His eyes immediately locked onto the blood soaking through her sleeve.
"Let me see," he demanded, reaching for her.
"I'm fine," Y/N repeated, pulling her arm away.
"Stop saying that," Baek snapped, frustration leaking into his voice. "You're bleeding. Let me help."
Y/N exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling rapidly. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.
Baek stared after her, something unreadable in his expression.
"Y/N—"
She didn’t look back.
He watched as she disappeared into the medical tent, her silhouette fading into the flickering light.
Baek clenched his fists, his jaw tight.
Ah. So this is how it feels like every time I walked away from her.
You guys loved the first part, so I js had to make a second part!🤭
—
Master list
Part 1
Code Red: Unfinished Sutures (Part 2)
Baek Kang Hyuk x Fem!Reader
Inside the crowded medical tent, the team worked in synchronized chaos. The air smelled of antiseptic and sweat, the rhythmic beeping of monitors the only thing grounding them amidst the whirlwind of trauma care.
Baek Kang-Hyuk finished suturing a patient’s wound when he noticed Jaewon, Jangmi, and Gyeongwon staring at him from across the room.
He ignored them.
Jaewon leaned toward Jangmi. "He’s pretending we’re not here."
Gyeongwon snorted. "Because he knows we have questions."
Baek sighed, tossing his gloves in the disposal bin. "If you have something to say, say it."
Jaewon grinned. "So. Malaika, huh?"
Baek didn’t react. "What about her?"
Jangmi crossed her arms. "Come on, Dr. Baek. You said her name like it meant something."
"It’s a name," Baek replied flatly.
Gyeongwon raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you’ve never reacted to anyone the way you reacted to her."
Jaewon smirked. "You looked like you’d seen a ghost. A very pretty ghost."
Baek exhaled sharply. "*Focus on your patients.*"
Jangmi wasn’t letting up. "So, what’s the deal? Former colleague? Ex-girlfriend?"
Jaewon gasped dramatically. "Former lover?!"
Baek shot him a glare. "Don’t be ridiculous."
"Okay, but you know her," Gyeongwon pressed. "And it’s personal."
Baek didn’t answer.
Jaewon grinned. "So it is personal."
Baek turned to Gyeongwon. "You’re supposed to be the rational one."
Gyeongwon just shrugged. "I’m curious too."
Baek pinched the bridge of his nose, regretting every life choice that led him to this moment.
Finally, he muttered, "She’s a reckless idiot who doesn’t know when to stop.”
Jangmi grinned. "And you care."
Baek looked away. "That’s not the point."
Jaewon nudged Gyeongwon. "It’s totally the point."
Before Baek could respond, a soldier burst into the tent, panting.
"Dr. Baek! We need your help—we have an emergency!"
Jangmi exchanged a look with Jaewon. "Guess we’ll get our answers soon."
Jaewon smirked. "Let’s see how not personal this is."
Baek ignored them and grabbed his med kit.
"Move out. Now."
—
"Malaika! We need your help—we have an emergency!"
The panicked voice tore Y/N from the two-hour nap she had barely managed to steal. Her body screamed in protest, but years of experience had taught her to push through exhaustion. She grabbed her gear and rushed out of the tent, her boots kicking up dust as she ran.
Outside, the sky was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning metal mixing with blood and dirt. Gunfire rattled in the distance—closer than before.
"What happened?" she demanded, strapping on her gloves as she met a frantic soldier.
"Ambush near the main road. Civilians injured—some critical. We need to get them out before they bleed out or the syndicate gets to them first!"
Y/N's pulse spiked, but she shoved the panic down. "How many?"
"Five that we know of. Maybe more."
She nodded sharply. "Get a vehicle ready. We’re bringing them back."
"You don’t need to go yourself, doc," the soldier hesitated. "It’s dangerous out there."
Y/N scoffed. "Yeah? So will you be if you stop me again. Move."
The soldier swallowed hard and nodded, sprinting toward the waiting vehicle. Y/N adjusted her kit, mentally preparing for what she would see—bullet wounds, shattered limbs, faces contorted in pain. She had done this a hundred times before.
Still, she wasn’t prepared for what she saw when she reached the road.
The first patient was already loaded into a transport, but two more lay in the dirt, bleeding out. And crouched beside one of them, hands slick with crimson, was a figure she never expected to see again.
Baek Kang-Hyuk.
The breath caught in her throat.
"Malak?" she murmured before she could stop herself.
His head snapped up, and for a brief second, amidst the chaos, their eyes met.
Recognition. Shock. And then—irritation.
Baek scowled. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?"
Her brain snapped back into action. "Jae-Won, take over the other patient! I’ll handle this one!"
She dropped to her knees beside Baek, barely registering the way their shoulders brushed. The soldier he was working on had taken a shot to the side—too much blood loss.
"Pressure," she ordered, reaching for a hemostat.
“Already on it," Baek muttered, shifting to make room for her.
Their hands moved in perfect synchronization, sealing the wound with practiced efficiency. For all their personal conflicts, in an emergency, they were seamless.
"BP dropping," Jae-Won called from the other side. "Shit—he’s going into shock!"
"Move him to the truck!" Y/N ordered.
Baek barely spared her a glance before lifting the patient with one smooth motion. Just as they started toward the vehicle, another explosion rocked the ground beneath them.
"GET DOWN!"
Baek barely had time to react before instinct took over—his arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her close just as the explosion sent them flying. They hit the ground hard, his body twisting at the last second to shield her from the worst of the impact.
For a moment, the world blurred into ringing silence, the air thick with dust and smoke.
Y/N groaned, her breath uneven as she stirred against him. "I hate this job."
Baek let out a sharp breath, his hold on her tightening for just a second longer than necessary. "Then quit," he shot back, his voice rough.
Ignoring him, she shifted, her fingers grazing his temple where a thin streak of blood trailed down his skin. "Are you bleeding?" Her tone was softer now, almost careful.
"Not mine," he muttered, but he didn’t move, letting her touch linger for just a second longer than necessary. His eyes locked onto hers, something unreadable flickering in their depths.
A breath passed between them—unspoken, heavy, undeniable.
Then reality snapped back. Baek exhaled sharply, forcing himself upright. "Truck’s hit," he said, voice steadier now. "We can’t take the road back."
But even as he pulled away, his fingers still tingled with the memory of holding her close.
Y/N cursed under her breath. "Then how the hell do we get out of here?"
A soldier sprinted toward them, panting. "Doctor—Dr. Baek! The secondary transport was shot down. We need to move, now!"
Baek ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. Then his eyes flicked to something behind her.
Y/N turned, following his gaze.
A motorcycle.
She blinked. "Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."
Baek was already moving. "You coming, or are you planning to stay and argue?"
She clenched her jaw. "I hate you."
"You’ll hate getting shot more," he quipped, swinging onto the bike. "Get on."
The soldiers loaded the remaining injured onto a makeshift stretcher attached to the back of a second bike. Y/N hesitated for half a second before climbing behind him, gripping his waist tightly.
Baek glanced over his shoulder. "Hold on."
"I am holding on," she snapped.
"Not for yourself," he muttered under his breath, just low enough that she almost didn’t catch it.
But she did.
Before she could say anything, Baek gunned the engine, and they shot forward.
The battlefield blurred around them—gunfire cracking past their heads, the burning wreckage of vehicles flashing in their periphery.
"Left!" she shouted.
"I see it!"
Baek swerved hard, narrowly dodging a collapsed building. The road ahead was blocked—fighters were closing in.
Y/N’s heart pounded. "We need another route!"
"Working on it!"
A bullet whizzed past, narrowly missing her shoulder. She turned, pulling her handgun from her holster.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Baek barked.
"Saving our asses!" she retorted, firing a shot that took down one of their pursuers.
Baek cursed but didn’t argue. Instead, he kicked the bike into a higher gear. The cityscape was a blur as they weaved through debris, dodging bullets and explosions.
"Almost there!"
Just then, a sniper's shot rang out.
A sharp, searing pain tore through Y/N's shoulder.
She gasped, her grip slipping. The shock of it made her vision blur for a second, but Baek reacted instantly, one hand leaving the handlebars to grab her wrist and keep her steady.
"Stay with me!" he ordered.
"I'm fine," she grit out.
"You're bleeding," he snapped.
"I'm fine," she repeated, tighter this time.
Baek's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. Instead, he pushed the bike harder, racing against the gunfire until, finally, they reached the safe zone.
As soon as they skidded to a stop, Baek jumped off and turned to her. His eyes immediately locked onto the blood soaking through her sleeve.
"Let me see," he demanded, reaching for her.
"I'm fine," Y/N repeated, pulling her arm away.
"Stop saying that," Baek snapped, frustration leaking into his voice. "You're bleeding. Let me help."
Y/N exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling rapidly. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.
Baek stared after her, something unreadable in his expression.
"Y/N—"
She didn’t look back.
He watched as she disappeared into the medical tent, her silhouette fading into the flickering light.
Baek clenched his fists, his jaw tight.
Ah. So this is how she feels like every time I walked away from her.
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