LIKE I WOULD || Kim Sun-woo
[1/4]
" It's okay to want me, 'cause I want you."
Summary: Kim Sun-woo's enemies were ambushed on a dark road in Seoul, nearly killing him. He was just grateful that an angel had saved him that night; he owed her his entire life.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, DARK THEME, AU, explicit content, mature language, age-gap, yandere behavior, slight angst, manipulation, rivals, threats, Stockholm syndrome, gun violence, stalker behavior, possessive behavior, betrayal, killing, assassination, obsession, corruption, power tripping, mutual pining, older man x younger woman
The neon signs of Gangnam flickered like dying stars above the carnage. Blood had turned the asphalt into a slick, black-red mirror, reflecting the sodium glow of streetlamps and the occasional headlight that swerved away in panic.
Bodies lay scattered in some twisted or some still while all of them wearing the wrong kind of suits for a Monday night salaryman brawl.
Kim Sun-woo lay among them as his back against the cold curb, then his left leg bent at an ugly angle while his right shoulder leaked steadily through the torn fabric of his charcoal Armani.
His chest burned where the blade had grazed ribs. His breathing felt like swallowing glass. His guards, the loyal and stupid boys, were already cooling a few meters away.
The ambush had been clean, professional, and almost admirable. His vision tunneled, black creeping in at the edges as he pressed two fingers to the deepest wound on his chest, and more out of habit than hope.
It's funny how the body still tried when the mind had already cashed out.
Then heels clicked against the pavement. You froze mid-step when the smell hit first when the copper and gunpowder and something faintly metallic like overheated brake pads. Your night-shift brain that is still buzzing from spreadsheets and bad instant coffee became short-circuited.
The bodies, there are so many bodies.
Your phone was already in your hand before conscious thought caught up.
“ 119 emergency…there’s…there’s been a shooting or…or a fight in Gangnam, near the alley by the old pojangmacha…please hurry—”
You hung up, throat tight, and started walking again because standing still felt worse. You checked pulses with shaking fingers, whispering “ Jebal…please…” to no one in particular.
Most of them were gone.
Then you reached him.
He's wearing a dark suit, an expensive watch cracked across the face, his hair matted with sweat and blood, and he was still breathing shallow and ragged, but there.
You dropped to your knees beside him. “ Hey…hey, can you hear me?”
A low groan scraped out of his throat as his eyelids fluttered then his one eye cracked open in black, glassy, and unfocused.
You pressed your palm to the chest wound without thinking. He's warm, too warm. “ You’re bleeding a lot. You need a hospital. Right now.”
He coughed once wet and ugly. “ Can’t…see straight. Just…leave me.”
Your jaw clenched. “ No.”
A weak and bitter laugh rattled in his chest. “ Are you always this stubborn with strangers?”
“ Are you always this eager to die?” You shoot back and you are pressing harder.
“ There are people on ventilators right now begging for one more day, and you’re just going to bleed out on the sidewalk like it’s nothing? Pathetic.”
His lips curved in half smirk and half grimace. “ You sound like a nagging wife already. We haven’t even been introduced.”
Heat crawled up your neck despite everything as you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “ Yeah, well, if I were your wife I’d have divorced you by now for being this dramatic.”
Another rough chuckle then it turned into a cough that sprayed red across his teeth. His head lolled and his eyes sliding shut again.
“ Hey…no. Stay with me.” You slapped his cheek lightly.
“ Look at me. What’s your name?”
“ Sun-woo…”
The word slurred.
“ Kim…Sun-woo.”
“ Okay, Kim Sun-woo. You don’t get to check out yet. Not when I’m literally holding your stupid stubborn life in my hands.”
Sirens finally screamed closer in red and blue painting the street in frantic pulses as the paramedics swarmed.
You waved them over, voice cracking. “ Him first…he’s losing too much blood!”
They moved fast. Their hands replaced yours then gauze, pressure, and straps. Sun-woo groaned again as they lifted him onto the stretcher. His fingers twitched toward you in instinct, maybe, then fell limp.
One of the paramedics glanced at you. “ You’re riding with him. The police will want your statement.”
You didn’t argue as you climbed into the back of the ambulance while your knees were still trembling, blouse already ruined with his blood.
The doors slammed and the vehicle lurched forward. Sun-woo’s head rolled toward you on the narrow stretcher. His vision was gone now and everything was soft black fog, but he could still smell you.
The faint jasmine from your perfume, coffee on your breath, and the clean sweat of someone who’d been sitting under fluorescent lights for twelve hours.
You're alive and warm and you should not be here.
He tried to focus on your face anyway. The shape of it, the stubborn set of your mouth and the way your brows pinched together like you were personally offended he was dying.
His cracked lips moved. “ Angel…”
You blinked. “ What?”
But his eyes had already rolled back as the monitor screamed one long flat note before the paramedic shocked him back to rhythm. You grabbed his hand without thinking. It's cold and slick with blood.
“ Don’t you dare…” You hissed under your breath.
“ You don’t get to call me angel and then leave. That’s cheating.”
The ambulance barreled through Seoul’s midnight arteries while the lights flashing and sirens howled. You kept your grip on his hand the whole way as your thumb pressed to the faint and the stubborn pulse that refused to quit.
Inside his fading mind, Sun-woo thought absurdly and deliriously that if hell looked like this, maybe he wouldn’t mind staying a little longer.
Just to see how much more you’d nag him.
…
The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and old coffee, the kind of sterile calm that made every footstep echo like a warning.
You sat on the hard plastic chair outside the ICU while your knees still jittered from adrenaline that refused to fade. Your blouse was stiff with dried blood (his blood), and the police officer across from you kept glancing at it like it was evidence.
“ So you just…happened to walk by?” The Detective Tim asked again while his pen was hovering over his notepad. His partner, Detective Taeyang leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and watched you like you might bolt.
“ I finished my night shift. Took the shortcut through that alley to catch the last subway. Then I saw…everything.” Your voice came out flatter than you felt.
“ Bodies. Blood. Him. I called 119. Checked for survivors. That’s it.”
The Detective Tim nodded slowly. “ You didn’t see who started it? No faces?”
“ It's too dark and too fast. I wasn’t exactly window-shopping.” You rubbed your temples.
“ Can I go check on him now? The doctor said he’s stable.”
They exchanged a look. “ Yeah. But we’ll need to talk more tomorrow. Don’t leave the city.”
You stood, legs wobbly, and pushed through the double doors.
Kim Sun-woo looked smaller under the harsh fluorescent light. The tubes snaked from his arms, chest, and nose as the monitors beeped in a lazy rhythm.
His face was bruised purple along the jaw, but the bleeding had stopped. Someone had cleaned the blood from his hair and it fell across his forehead in damp black strands.
The doctor is middle-aged and his eyes are tired behind wire frames as he steps up beside you.
“ He’ll pull through. Fractured tibia, dislocated shoulder, three cracked ribs, deep laceration to the pectoral. Lost a lot of blood, but you bought him the time. Most people would’ve walked away.”
You swallowed. “ I couldn’t.”
He studied you for a long moment. “ You saved Kim Sun-woo.”
You blinked. “ That’s his name. Yeah.”
The doctor glanced toward the door, then back at you.
“ He’s not just some drunk salaryman who got jumped. He’s one of the big ones. Black-hand organizations. Drugs, guns, territory wars that stretch from Busan to Beijing. The men who did this tonight? They weren’t random thugs. They were sending a message.”
Your stomach dropped. “ Wait. You’re saying—”
“ I’m saying you were seen. At the scene. Kneeling over him. Talking to him. If any of his enemies had lookouts or worse, cameras…you’re now on someone’s radar.”
The room felt colder as you stared at Sun-woo’s slack face. “ I just…I was trying to help.”
“ I know.” The doctor’s voice softened and almost pitiful.
“ But this world doesn’t care about good intentions. You stepped into their game. Once you’re in, it’s hard to step out.”
You laughed in short and bitter. “ So what? I should’ve let him bleed out? Left him like trash?”
“ No. But you should know what that choice costs.” He sighed.
“ I already spoke to the police. They’re putting a plainclothes officer on your building for the next few days. Discreet. No sirens. Just in case.”
“ In case someone decides to tie up loose ends.” You finished flatly.
“ Exactly.”
You pressed your lips together so hard they hurt. “ I’m an accountant. I do taxes. I fight with Excel, not…whatever this is.”
The doctor gave a tired half-smile. “ Welcome to Seoul after midnight.”
He patted your shoulder in firm and brief. “ I have rounds. Think about what I said. And maybe…keep your distance after tonight.”
He walked away as his white coat flapped, then the door hissed shut behind him.
You stood there, alone with the beeping machines and the man who’d called you an angel right before he flatlined. Sun-woo’s fingers twitched once while his eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.
You dragged the chair closer and sat.
“ You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” You muttered under your breath.
“ I saved your life and now I’m on some mafia hit list. Great trade-off. Ten out of ten. I would recommend it to my friends.”
His chest rose and fell. It's steady, stubborn, and alive. You leaned forward, elbows on knees while staring at the IV drip.
“ If you die now, I swear I’ll haunt you. I didn’t ruin my favorite blouse and probably my entire life just for you to check out early.”
Nothing.
You exhaled hard through your nose. “ And if you wake up and start with that ‘angel’ nonsense again, I’m unplugging something. Fair warning.”
A faint hitch in his breathing like it was almost a laugh if you squinted. Your heart gave an annoying little thud.
You sat back while pregnant your arms crossed. “ Don’t get any ideas. This isn’t some romantic rescue drama. I’m not your damsel, and you’re definitely not my prince. You’re a walking felony in a nice suit.”
Still nothing, but his fingers curled slightly.
Toward you or maybe just a muscle spasm.
You didn’t move your hand away.
Seoul kept breathing as the sirens in the distance, neon bleeding through the blinds. Inside the room, and the tension coiled tighter than ever. Not just danger, not just gratitude, but something darker and sharper.
The kind of pull that happens when two people who should never have met suddenly share the same air, the same blood on their hands, and the same stupid reckless heartbeat.
You glared at his unconscious face.
“ Wake up soon, asshole.” You whispered.
“ So I can yell at you properly.”
The monitor beeped on, indifferent.
…
One month.
Thirty-one days since the asphalt tasted his blood and your hands pressed life back into his chest. Kim Sun-woo had healed faster than the doctors predicted.
The stitches out in ten days, limp gone by week three while his shoulder is still stiff but functional enough to pull a trigger without wincing.
He checked himself out against medical advice on day fourteen while muttering something about rotting in pastel sheets being worse than any bullet.
His work waited, his enemies didn’t pause, and neither did he.
But you lingered.
Not in his wounds. It's in the hollow space behind his ribs where something hot and restless had taken root the night you called him pathetic and refused to let him die. He remembered your voice more clearly than the ambush in a sharp, exasperated, and alive.
No one talked to him like that, not anymore.
So on the fourth week he returned to the hospital not for a check-up, but for answers. The doctor who’d patched him up was in his office and charting like the world wasn’t built on borrowed time.
Sun-woo didn’t knock.
“ You still see her?” He asked without preamble and leaned in the doorway while arms crossed over the charcoal suit that cost more than most people’s rent.
The doctor startled as his pen skittering across paper. “ Mr. Kim. You’re…looking well.”
“ Answer the question.”
A swallow. “ She hasn’t been back. Not since that first night. She stayed until you stabilized, then left when the police released her.”
Sun-woo’s jaw ticked. “ Her name.”
“ I don’t have it. The police took her statement. She was only here as a witness…companion by their order, not family. Hospital policy doesn’t require ID from non-relatives in those cases.”
Sun-woo laughed once in a low and dangerous way. “ So, you’re telling me you let the only person who gave a damn whether I lived or died walk out without so much as a fucking business card?”
“ Mr. Kim—”
He moved faster than the doctor expected. In one step, then the cold muzzle of his Glock pressed under the man’s jaw and tilted his head back against the chair as the doctor’s clipboard clattered to the floor.
“ How dare you talk back to me like I’m asking for restaurant recommendations?” Sun-woo’s voice was velvet wrapped around razor wire.
“ I could paint this office with you right now. One squeeze. Brains on the blinds. Easy cleanup.”
The doctor’s hands flew up and trembled. “ Please…please don’t. I swear, I don’t know. She was just…kind. That’s all.”
Sun-woo leaned closer while his breath ghosted the man’s ear.
“ Kindness gets people killed in my world, Doc. You should’ve at least gotten a name so I could thank her properly. Or maybe you wanted her to stay anonymous so she wouldn’t end up like you…in pieces.”
A choked sound. “ I…I’ll call the police if—”
Sun-woo cocked the hammer as the click echoed like a promise.
The doctor whimpered. “ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Sun-woo studied him for a long second in pathetic, sweating, and alive only because he hadn’t yet become inconvenient. Then he laughed again, but softer this time, and shoved the man back into the chair hard enough to make it roll.
“ Useless.” He muttered then he holstered the gun.
“ Next time I come asking questions, have answers. Or don’t bother breathing when I walk in.”
He turned on his heel and left as the door banging shut behind him. Outside, rain had started cold, slanting, and the kind that soaked through expensive wool in seconds.
Sun-woo pulled his phone from his slacks and dialed without looking.
“ Boss.” His right-hand man answered on the first ring.
“ Find her.” Sun-woo said.
“ The woman from the alley. The one who called 119. Police have her name, her statement, probably her fucking address."
" Get it. Bribe them, threaten them, burn the precinct down if you have to. I don’t care how. Just get me the file.”
A pause. “ Are you sure about this? Digging into a civilian—”
“ Did I ask for your opinion?” Sun-woo snapped.
“ Do it. Today. Report back when you have something worth hearing.”
He ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket as the rain plastered his hair to his forehead. He raked furious fingers through it while trying to shove the frustration down with the rest of the things he refused to name.
Obsession wasn’t the right word, not yet. But every night since discharge he’d lain awake while replaying your voice.
“Pathetic.”
"Fight to live."
“I’m not leaving you here.”
The way your fingers had gripped his hand in the ambulance like you had any right to care, and the way you’d blushed when he called you a nagging wife, then rolled your eyes like he was beneath you.
No one treated him like that.
No one dared.
And that, fuck, that was the problem.
He wanted to find you. Not to hurt you. Not even to thank you, not really. He wanted to see if that fire in your voice still burned when you looked at him sober, conscious, and dangerous.
He wanted to know if you’d still talk back, still refuse to let him bleed out, and still call him an asshole while holding his life in your palms.
He wanted to burn.
And he wanted you to burn with him.
Sun-woo lit a cigarette under the hospital awning and inhaled deep as the smoke curled into the rain.
Somewhere in Seoul you were living an ordinary life as the spreadsheets, night shifts, and subway shortcuts. You are unaware that a man who should have died a month ago had decided you belonged in his orbit now.
Whether you wanted to or not.
He exhaled as he watched the ember glow red against the gray.
“ Soon, angel.” He murmured to the empty street.
“ I’ll find you. And when I do…we’re going to have a proper conversation.”
The cigarette hissed as he crushed it under his heel then he walked into the rain while he's already planning how he’d make you say his name like it mattered.
…
Days blurred into the same gray routine. Subway at 7:42 a.m., coffee that tasted like burnt regret, spreadsheets until your eyes crossed, and came home by 11 p.m. if the trains were kind.
The plainclothes officer still parked outside your building most nights with a discreet black sedan, tinted windows, and the occasional glow of a cigarette.
You’d wave sometimes with a sarcastic little salute, but he never waved back.
The witness protection felt more like quiet babysitting than actual danger, and after a month of nothing, there's no shadows tailing you, no slashed tires, and no creepy notes as you’d started to relax.
Maybe the doctor had exaggerated or maybe the mafia had bigger problems than one tired accountant who’d played Good Samaritan.
Then there was Yuan.
Yuan, who refused to understand that “no” was a complete sentence.
He’s half-Chinese and half-Korean, stupidly handsome in that polished and dangerous way. He has a sharp jaw, designer suits, and eyes that looked like they’d seen too much and still wanted more.
He’d been orbiting you for three years. The flowers on your desk, late-night texts that started sweet and ended desperate then the lunch invites you always declined.
You’d told him straight that his world was blood and shadows while yours was Excel and overtime. Oil and water. End of story.
Yesterday he’d gone nuclear.
He was kneeling in the middle of the open-plan office at 3 p.m., velvet box open with a diamond that big enough to choke on while your entire team pretending not to stare while pretending very hard to type.
“ Marry me.” He’d said as his voice carried like he was announcing quarterly results.
“ I’ll keep you safe. I’ll give you everything.”
Heat had flooded your face while your colleagues whispered and someone coughed to hide a laugh. You’d grabbed his wrist then dragged him into the break room like a misbehaving puppy by slamming the door behind you.
“ Are you insane?” You’d hissed.
“ Really? In front of everyone?”
“ I’m serious.”
“ You’re delusional. Get up.”
He hadn’t. He just stayed on one knee while looking up at you with those stupid earnest eyes.
“ I love you. I’ve loved you since the day you told me my tie looked like a gangster’s napkin and then fixed it anyway.”
You’d pinched the bridge of your nose. “ Yuan. No, again. No. Ani. Cannot be. Hindi. Bawal.”
“ Why not?”
“ Because you’re in the life…the same life that almost got someone killed a month ago right in front of me. I’m not signing up for that.”
He stood then in slow motion and it hurt. “ I’d protect you.”
“ You can’t even protect yourself from rejection.” You’d muttered.
He’d flinched as you’d hated yourself a little for it. But he’d left, finally, as his shoulders slumped while the box still clutched like a grenade. While you’d spent the rest of the day hiding in the supply closet while breathing into a paper bag.
Across the city, in a glass-and-steel penthouse that overlooked the Han River like it owned it, Kim Sun-woo lounged on black leather and whiskey in hand while watching his right-hand man slink in like a kicked dog.
Yuan dropped into the opposite chair without asking. His face looked like he’d swallowed glass.
Sun-woo smirked. “ Let me guess. Another public humiliation?”
“ She dragged me into the break room.” Yuan muttered.
“ Then she told me I was delusional.”
Sun-woo barked a laugh. “ She’s not wrong. You proposed in her office? What were you thinking…a rom-com bullshit?”
“ I was thinking forever.”
“ You were thinking with your dick and your ego.” Sun-woo swirled the amber liquid.
“ There are a thousand girls in Seoul who’d spread it for you tonight. Why chase the one who keeps kicking you in the balls?”
“ Because she’s different.” Yuan rubbed his face.
“ She doesn’t want my money. She doesn’t want my name. Doesn’t even want me safe. She just…sees me. And still says no.”
Sun-woo rolled his eyes. “ Poetic. Tragic. Pathetic. The odds of her suddenly falling for a man who runs guns and breaks kneecaps? Slimmer than your chances of growing a conscience.”
“ I’d protect her…” Yuan said quietly.
“ From anyone.”
Sun-woo snorted. “ You ran from the last ambush like your ass was on fire. Don’t make promises you can’t cash.”
Yuan’s jaw tightened. “ Fuck you, boss.”
“ Love you too.” Sun-woo leaned forward with his elbows on knees.
“ Forget her. I’ll call Mark. He’ll send three girls over. Blonde, brunette, redhead…your pick. To warm your bed, no strings, and no public proposals.”
“ I don’t want them.” Yuan’s voice cracked just enough to notice.
“ I want her. Only her. I’ll wait.”
Sun-woo stared at him for a long beat. Then laughed again in low and dark.
“ You’re hopeless. Fine. Waste your life pining. Just don’t fuck up the intel I asked for. I still need that woman’s name. The one from the alley.”
Yuan winced. “ Yeah. About that—”
“ You’ve been distracted.” Sun-woo cut in and his tone is sharpening.
“ It's been weeks now. Every time I ask for progress, you look like someone pissed in your cereal.”
“ I’m sorry. I’ll get it done. Tomorrow.”
Sun-woo waved a hand. “ Go breathe. You stink of desperation.”
Yuan stood, shoulders heavy, and headed for the rooftop terrace without another word. The second the door clicked shut, Sun-woo’s smirk widened into something sharper and predatory.
“ Pathetic.” He murmured to the empty room.
“ Chasing tail when women should be chasing him. Spoiled little shit.”
He tipped his glass back like it was swallowing fire.
He didn’t know.
He didn’t know that the woman Yuan lost sleep over was the one who kept saying no, and who dragged him away from spectacle, who looked at him like he was a problem she couldn’t solve was the same woman Sun-woo had been hunting since the night she called him an asshole and refused to let him die.
He didn’t know her face was burned into both their brains.
He didn’t know the universe had a sick sense of humor, and tangled three lives in the same bloody thread.
Sun-woo set the glass down as he lit a cigarette and exhaled them slowly.
“ Soon…” He said to the glittering city below.
“ I’ll find you, angel. And when I do…”
He smiled into the smoke.
“…we’ll see how well you say no to me.”
…
Monday morning in Seoul tasted like exhaust and instant ramen breath. You stepped out of your shoebox apartment building, nodding at the ajummas clustered near the mailboxes like a flock of judgmental pigeons.
Their smiles were so plastic they could’ve been molded in the same factory as Barbie’s face is wide, frozen, and utterly fake.
You caught the tail end of a whisper about “…always alone, poor thing…” before they switched to syrupy “Good morning!” as you gave them the barest lip curl and kept walking.
The office was a twenty-minute stroll if you didn’t dawdle. Cabs were for tourists and people who liked throwing money at traffic. You had legs, a functioning brain, and zero desire to pay someone to inch you forward in gridlock.
AirPods in with a lo-fi playlist on low as you let the city blur around you in neon signs still sleepy, delivery scooters weaving like drunks, and the faint smell of grilled fish from a pojangmacha that never closed.
Then the world cracked open.
A gunshot was sharp, close, and unmistakable that ripped the morning apart. The screams erupted while people dropped like marionettes with cut strings. You flinched so hard your coffee sloshed over your knuckles and scalding.
Another bang.
Then three more in quick succession.
Chaos.
You bolted sideways, slamming against the brick wall of a closed nail salon while your heart was jackhammering and bullets whined overhead as the glass shattered somewhere to your left.
You pressed flat, palms scraping rough mortar, breathing through your teeth.
“ Of course.” You muttered.
“ Of course this happens on a Monday.”
Voices barked over the panic in deep and commanding with Korean laced with fury.
“ Everyone on the ground! Move and you’re dead!”
You risked a peek around the corner.
Six…no, seven men in tailored black while moving like they owned gravity. Pistols mostly, but two carried ARs slung low, expensive watches glinted under suit sleeves, and faces hard while their eyes scanned.
They looked like they’d stepped out of a K-drama budget meeting and decided to cosplay Men in Black minus the aliens, plus the actual murder.
Another crash, metal on metal, a car windshield imploding then more gunfire. You ducked lower while cursing under your breath.
Late.
You were going to be so late. And probably dead, but mostly late.
A hand clamped around your upper arm. You yelped, twisting, and ready to snap the wrist like dry spaghetti until you saw the face.
Yuan.
Blood streaked his temple in dark and fresh. His suit jacket was torn at the shoulder while his tie askew, but his eyes went wild with something between panic and rage.
“ What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed then yanked you deeper into the alley mouth.
You wrenched your arm free. “ I have a job, you idiot. Everything was fine until your little gangster tea party turned the street into a shooting gallery.”
His jaw clenched. “ It’s not mine. It’s theirs…our enemies. They hit us on the move.”
“ Oh, great. So this is just casual Monday terrorism. My bad for overreacting.” You shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.
“ This is exactly why I keep saying no, Yuan. Your life is a live-action disaster reel. I like fictional disasters.”
He exhaled hard through his nose. “ I told you I’d protect you.”
“ Your promises don’t come with bulletproof vests. I love my life…quiet, boring, spreadsheet-filled. I’m not trading it for yours.”
His expression cracked and just a flicker. Hurt, maybe. Or frustration. “ I know you think I’m poisonous.”
“ I think you’re a walking red flag with nice cheekbones.”
He almost smiled bitterly and briefly then dragged you farther down the alley, away from the gunfire.
“ I can’t change your mind anymore, can I?”
“ Nope.”
“ But I’m not stopping.” He stopped walking then turned to face you. Blood dripped from his hairline onto his collar.
“ I’ll keep coming back until you stop saying no. Until you see I’m worth the risk.”
You snorted. “ In your dreams, Romeo.”
He opened his mouth, probably to argue or probably to promise the moon again when a new voice cut through like a blade.
“ Yah, pabo-ya.”
Yuan stiffened then he sagged in visible relief.
Kim Sun-woo stepped out from the opposite end of the alley while Glock was still smoking in his right hand. His suit was immaculate except for a single tear at the cuff and a smear of someone else’s blood on his knuckles.
His hair mussed just enough to look deliberate while his eyes are dark and furious that locked first on Yuan, then slid to you.
He froze.
You froze.
The gunfire in the distance popped like fireworks, but the alley suddenly felt vacuum-sealed. Sun-woo tilted his head, slow, and predatory then a recognition hit him like a second bullet.
“ You.”
Yuan stepped instinctively in front of you while his shoulders were squaring. “ Boss…she was caught in it. I was just—”
“ Running away again?” Sun-woo’s voice was velvet over gravel.
“ Leaving your team to eat lead while you play knight for your little crush?”
Yuan flinched. “ I found her hiding. I had to—”
“ You had to make sure she was safe.” Sun-woo’s gaze never left your face.
“ How noble.”
You feel the air thicken is hot, heavy, and electric. Sun-woo looked at you like he’d been waiting a month just for this moment. Like the chaos outside was background noise and you were the main event.
You crossed your arms, chin up. “ Nice to see you’re still alive, Mr. Kim. Try not to bleed out in public again. It’s bad for traffic.”
A slow, dangerous smile curled his mouth. “ Still got that mouth on you, angel.”
Yuan’s head snapped toward you. “ Angel?”
Sun-woo ignored him while stepping closer. He's close enough you could smell gunpowder, expensive cologne, and the faint copper of blood.
“ I've been looking for you.”
Your pulse kicked. “ Congratulations. You found me. Now go back to your war zone. Some of us have spreadsheets to cry over.”
He laughed in low and rough, like he hadn’t expected to enjoy this so much.
“ Are you always this sweet to men who owe you their life?”
“ Are you always this annoying to women who saved yours?”
Yuan made a strangled noise. “ Wait…you two know each other?”
Sun-woo’s eyes stayed on you, dark and burning. “ She’s the one who dragged me out of hell a month ago. Kept me breathing while I called her an angel.”
He leaned in as his voice dropped. “ And she still talks to me like I’m trash. I like it.”
Heat crawled up your neck.
You hated it.
Hated him.
You hated the way your stupid heart thudded like it recognized danger and wanted more.
Yuan’s hand flexed at his side. “ Boss—”
“ Shut up, Yuan.” Sun-woo said without looking.
Then, to you. “ You’re coming with me.”
“ Excuse me?”
“ The street’s a mess. Enemies everywhere. You think I’m letting you walk home alone after this?”
You laughed sharply and incredulously. “ I think you’re delusional if you believe I’m going anywhere with either of you.”
Sun-woo’s smile sharpened. “ Try me.”
Yuan stepped forward. “ She said no, boss.”
Sun-woo finally glanced at him, cold but amused. “ She says no to you every day, Yuan. But it didn’t seem to stop you.”
Yuan’s face flushed. You felt the tension coil tighter with these two men, one woman, one alley, and enough unresolved bullshit to start another war.
Another burst of gunfire echoed from the main road.
Sun-woo’s hand twitched toward his gun. “ We’re not done talking, angel.”
His eyes raked over you in slow, deliberate, and filthy promise. “ But next time? No interruptions.”
He turned, jerked his head at Yuan. “ Move. We’ve got work.”
Yuan hesitated, gaze flicking to you in pleading, furious, and helpless.
You met Sun-woo’s stare one last time. “ Don’t call me 'angel', Mr. Kim.”
He smirked. “ Too late.”
Then he walked away as Yuan trailing like a shadow. You stood there, heart slamming, coffee long cold on the pavement.
The city kept burning around you and somehow, you knew, you’d just stepped deeper into the fire.
Your Monday was officially ruined.
…
The late afternoon sun bled orange through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sun-woo’s penthouse, painting the black marble floor in long and violent streaks.
Yuan kicked the double doors shut behind him while his arms straining under the dead weight of his boss. Sun-woo’s suit jacket hung in tatters while the blood soaked the right shoulder and turned charcoal wool to wet midnight.
He groaned low when Yuan lowered him onto the custom Italian leather couch carefully and almost tender like handling cracked porcelain.
“ Fuck.” Sun-woo hissed, teeth bared, and fingers digging into the ruined fabric over the bullet hole.
“ Those sons of bitches…I’m gonna find every last one. Skin them. Burn what’s left. Send the ashes to their mothers in gift boxes.”
Yuan didn’t answer since he’d heard the threats before.
They always sounded prettier when Sun-woo was bleeding.
He disappeared into the bathroom then came back with the black medical kit as the one stocked for gunshot wounds, not paper cuts.
He's kneeling as he cuts away the shirt sleeve with trauma shears. Sun-woo watched him through half-lidded eyes and sweat beading on his upper lip.
“ Through and through.” Yuan muttered, probing gently.
“ Missed the artery. You're lucky.”
“ Lucky?” Sun-woo echoed sarcastically.
“ No, I feel blessed.”
Yuan poured antisept and the second it hit raw flesh Sun-woo’s whole body jerked.
“ Motherfucker—!”
“ Hold still, boss.”
Sun-woo’s free hand shot out then grabbing Yuan’s wrist hard enough to bruise. “ Are you gonna baby me or fix it?”
Yuan didn’t flinch. He just kept working on cleaning, packing gauze and tape. When he finished, he gathered the bloody cotton and gauze, and dumped them in the steel bin under the bar, then he went to the liquor cabinet without being asked.
Sun-woo’s voice followed him. “ Whiskey. The good shit. Not the shelf crap.”
Yuan returned with the thirty-year-old Yamazaki, twisted the cap, and handed it over. Sun-woo took it like communion wine, tipped his head back, and drank straight from the bottle in a long and greedy swallow that made his throat work.
When he lowered it, half was gone as be wiped his mouth with the back of his good hand.
“ You finally found her, Yuan.” He said as his voice was rough from liquor and pain.
“ The woman who saved my ass that night. Been looking for a fucking month, and she’s been your little obsession the whole time.”
Yuan froze mid-step. “ I didn’t know. I swear. You never described her face…just ‘the angel with the sharp tongue.’ I didn’t connect—”
“ You’re an idiot.” Sun-woo cut in, almost fond.
“ But at least now we have a direct line. I want to talk to her. Tomorrow or tonight if she’s stupid enough to answer her phone.”
Yuan’s shoulders tensed. “ She’ll say no. Again.”
Sun-woo’s laugh was dark, wet. “ Then I don’t ask. I take. Simple abduction. Bag over the head, trunk of the car, here by breakfast. Done.”
Yuan’s face hardened. “ I promised her I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“ Kidnapping isn’t hurting.” Sun-woo leaned forward while his elbows were on knees as the bottle dangling between his fingers.
“ I’m not gonna carve her up, Yuan. I just want to look her in the eye. Say 'thank you.' Properly. For dragging this son of the devil back from the edge when she could’ve walked away.”
He tilted his head.
“ You think I’d hurt the only person who ever treated me like I was worth saving?”
Yuan looked away while his knuckles were white around nothing.
Sun-woo’s smirk sharpened. “ You’re jealous, Yuan.”
“ I’m not—”
“ You are.” Sun-woo set the bottle down with deliberate care.
“ You are scared that I’ll like her. Scared she’ll like me back. Scared three years of groveling might get smoked by one night of her pressing gauze to my chest.”
Yuan met his eyes then in raw, furious, and terrified. “ What if you do? What if you like her? What then?”
Sun-woo stood slowly. The movement pulled at his wound, but he ignored it. He towered over his right-hand man until Yuan had to tilt his head back.
“ What if my theory’s right?” Sun-woo murmured in voice low enough to crawl under skin.
“ What if she already woke up to something in me? What if I decide I want her? What are you gonna do about it, Yuan?”
Yuan’s breath hitched. “ You know I’ve loved her for three years. Every day. Every rejection. I’ve waited. I’ve bled for her in my head a thousand times. Don’t…don’t take her from me.”
Sun-woo tapped his good shoulder almost gently. “ I can’t promise shit, Yuan. She woke up to something. I’m curious. Dangerous combination.”
Yuan’s fists clenched so hard the knuckles bleached.
Sun-woo’s smile turned lethal. “ If you swing at me right now, that bullet in my shoulder moves faster than your fist ever will. You know it. I know it.”
Yuan’s jaw worked, but no words came. Then he turned in sharp, mechanical, and walked out. The door slammed hard enough to rattle the whiskey bottle.
Sun-woo exhaled through his nose as he sank back onto the couch. The room felt bigger without Yuan’s simmering rage filling it.
He hadn’t planned this.
He hadn’t planned on wanting the same woman his most loyal soldier had spent years chasing.
He hadn’t planned on the way your voice still echoed in his skull by calling him pathetic, stubborn, and refusing to let him die like it personally offended you.
He hadn’t planned on the heat that coiled low in his gut every time he remembered your hand gripping his in the ambulance, blood-slick and unyielding.
But plans were for cowards.
He picked up the bottle again then took another long pull.
He didn’t intend to hurt you, not really.
He just intended to have you.
Whether you said yes willingly or woke up in his bed wondering how the hell you got there.
Either way.
He’d win because Kim Sun-woo didn’t lose.
Not to enemies.
Not to bullets.
And sure as hell not to a lovesick right-hand man who couldn’t take no for an answer.
He leaned his head back against the leather, closed his eyes as the wound throbbed in time with his pulse.
Soon, angel.
Very soon.
You’d see him again.
And this time?
He wouldn’t let you walk away.
Author's Note:
Heya! Another one-shot incoming. This one’s gonna have FOUR parts because my phone keeps lagging and it’s driving me insane lol. It’ll for sure hit Tumblr’s word limit, so breaking it up is the safest move. Also yes, I will leave you hanging during the intense parts...jk jk…unless? 😈
