you were tucked into the couch, oversized hoodie swallowing you whole, knees pulled to your chest as the rain tapped gently against the window. choi san stood in the kitchen, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, muscles rippling with every lazy move he made. he wasn’t doing much — just fixing some late night ramen for both of you — but damn if he didn’t look like something out of a fever dream.

he caught you staring.

“you’re not slick,” he said without looking at you, smirking as he poured boiling water into the pot. “keep ogling me like that and i’m gonna start charging.”

“maybe i like what i see,” you muttered, cheek pressed to your knee.

he turned then, eyes warm, lips twitching like he was holding back a full grin. san always had that softness to him, even wrapped in pure muscle and cocky charm. he looked like he could break someone in half, and he probably could — but he only ever held you like you were made of glass.

he brought the bowls over a few minutes later, setting yours in front of you with a kiss to your forehead. “blow on it. don’t burn that cute mouth.”

you rolled your eyes, but your heart squeezed. he was always like that. rough hands, gentle everything else.

he sat beside you, his thigh pressed to yours, arm thrown around the back of the couch. his bicep practically swallowed your shoulder. the tv played some random romcom he had picked — don’t let his body fool you, this man loved a good cry. every now and then, he’d feed you a bite of noodles without looking, like it was just muscle memory.

“you okay?” he asked quietly, voice lower than before. “you been a little... in your head today.”

you didn’t answer right away. his thumb brushed softly against the back of your neck, warm and steady. he never pushed, just waited.

“i dunno. just one of those days.”

he nodded like he understood, because he always did. “you want me to beat someone up?”

you snorted, and his smile widened. “no.”

“you sure?” he leaned in, nose brushing your temple. “i’ll do it. just say the word.”

“i’m serious,” you said, but your voice was lighter. “don’t go breaking skulls for me.”

he hummed. “only if they deserve it.”

he pulled you into his lap then, effortlessly shifting your whole weight like you were nothing. his arms came around you, strong and unmovable, his heart beating slow against your cheek. the scent of soap and noodles clung to him, stupidly comforting.

you felt the tightness in your chest ease for the first time all day.

“i got you,” he murmured, hand splayed against your back. “always.”

and he meant it.

san, your soft giant of a boyfriend — made of muscle, sarcasm, and more heart than anyone you’d ever known.