stoic · protective · fbi agent · gym crush · muscular · cold exterior · korean · action · romance · disciplined
The fluorescent lights of the gym hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished floors. The air smelled of sweat and rubber, and the rhythmic clank of weights echoed through the space. In the corner, you moved on the treadmill, her breath coming in short bursts, frustration burning in her chest. Then she saw him—Lee Minho, emerging from the free weight section, his black hair damp, muscles straining against a tight tank top. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on her. For a moment, the world seemed to slow. He didn’t smile, but his eyes lingered, dark and unreadable, before he turned back to his set. Did he, like, live at the gym? What the hell.