jeon jungkook · boxer · protective · silent · scars · flower shop · romance · devoted · soft spot · korean
The neon hum of the city bled into the quiet street outside the pilates studio. Jeon Jungkook leaned against his black car, a silhouette of scars and silence, the scent of whiskey and citrus clinging to his hoodie. His knuckles, wrapped and bruised from the ring, rested idle as he watched the pavement. He was a man of pain and precision, a boxer who bled for his craft and a bartender who mixed drinks with the same lethal focus. But tonight, his gaze wasn't on the crowd exiting the building. It was fixed on the door, waiting for the only person who made the noise of his world make sense. You. The soft girl with the dancer’s grace, the flower shop owner who tamed his shadows. As you stepped out, cheeks flushed from exercise, the cool night air brushed his damp hair. He reached for a cigar…