Chapter Text
“What do you mean I won’t be receiving funds this year?”
The bank employee in front of him sighed, pinching his nose as if Taehyung was the biggest nuisance in his life; truthfully, Taehyung didn’t give a single fuck if that was the case. The guy was paid to be here, wearing that ugly, posh blue collar uniform (well, that might have been optional, but he did look like the type of dude who showed up to university in a suit to look smarter than everyone), supposedly helping him; yet all he had done in the past thirty minutes was demonstrate to him how utterly useless he was at his job.
“Listen, Taehyung-ssi. Your funding demand for your bakery has been refused. There’s nothing I can do here.”
Taehyung huffed, leaning back in the uncomfortable, ass-numbing gray chair (did every single piece of furniture in this place need to be ugly and impractical?) and crossing his arms over his pink shirt, the only trace of color in the otherwise depressing room. God, no wonder the percentage of burnt-out bank workers was so high, if all they did all day was stare at shades of black and be freaking assholes.
“Listen, Wang-ssi, I am telling you I provided all the needed papers on time, got them double-checked by your colleague to be sure nothing was missing, and got told everything was perfect and there would be no issues. So where is this coming from?”
Wang shrugged before setting his elbows on the table and crossing his hands, looking completely unaffected by his absolute incompetence and lack of human compassion.
“Actually, there was a document missing. You forgot to submit the cash flow statement. So that is on you, I fear.”
What.
“What?” Taehyung parroted his own thoughts, because what. He opened his mouth, then closed it, shutting his eyes for a second and taking a couple of deep breaths. He was absolutely not imagining smashing that dumbass head on his clean, shiny glass desk. “Wang-ssi. With all due respect, I just told you your colleague checked several times that all documents were there and confirmed everything was set. I know for a fact that I provided this specific document.”
Wang seemed to ponder the statement, head crooking to the side, and Taehyung could feel his own temper rise at the blatant display of couldn’t-give-more-of-a-damn attitude. “Hmm. Well, they might have gotten lost in the process, then. I fear you’ll have to wait to apply for next year’s funding.”
Taehyung snorted, rolling his eyes, then leaned over the desk, thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, if he was closer to the other idiot’s brain, the information would come across more clearly.
“Wang-ssi, I don’t know how extensive your knowledge is on owning a business,” he started, and the worker in question made an attempt at probably bragging about his education, but Taehyung cut him off before the words had even left his mouth, “but a business in such an early stage will not survive a year without funding. Do you get that? I. need. this. funding.”
Wang nodded solemnly, offering him a polite, hypocritical smile devoid of all human emotion, and Taehyung had the distinct impression that he was talking to a goddamn wall.
Hell, even a wall was more useful than this dude.
“I understand, Taehyung-ssi.”
“No, no, I don’t think you do,” interrupted Taehyung again, getting a bit desperate, practically bending over the table to get closer to the idiot. Fuck, he wished he could spit on his stupid face. Wang leaned back into his chair, his fake smile quavering, as if guessing his client’s thoughts. “I will go bankrupt if I don’t get this funding. Funding for which I applied properly. I demand to see my application.”
Wang crossed his legs under the desk, his arms coming to rest perfectly on the armrest of his (obviously) gray seat. “Ah. I’m afraid that is not possible, Taehyung-ssi. It’s confidential.”
Taehyung felt his right eye twitch.
“Confidential? What could possibly be confidential if I provided those papers myself!?” he cried out, raising his arms to the sky in an attempt to prevent himself from slapping the dumbass in front of him.
“I apologize, Taehyung-ssi. Now, I have another appointment, I must ask you to leave,” Wang simply stated, effectively cutting off their discussion as if Taehyung had not been telling him he was in total risk of bankruptcy, and stood up to offer him a hand to shake.
Taehyung looked at him in disbelief. He laughed in incredulity, so hard that a few tears actually escaped (although those might have been from nerves), then grabbed his bag from the chair and headed towards the door, completely ignoring Wang’s handshake.
“You can take that hand and put it deep up your ass.”
He slammed the door on his way out, just to be petty.
*
“How did the meeting go?” greeted Jin as soon as Taehyung stepped foot inside the bakery, looking at him with wide, expecting eyes. He was hands-deep into frosting up the cupcakes, the dark red uniform shirt stretching nicely over his shoulders and around his biceps, the beige apron hugging his small waist.
Uh. No wonder they always got more clients on cupcake days. Maybe it wasn’t only for the pastries.
Taehyung sighed loudly, dropping his bag in a chair behind the counter and reaching for his own apron. He tied it in a perfect bow behind his back, then leaned backwards on the table, letting his head fall between his shoulder blades.
Then, he screamed.
Jin startled, dropping the piping bag on the counter in a loud noise. The cupcake he was working on looked like it got its brain blown out, frosting smashed and unequal.
His employee cursed, looking at the poor pastry in desolation, before he sighed in acceptance and picked it up, cutting it in half and offering one part to his boss.
“There. Looks like you need it.”
Taehyung accepted it sadly, munching on the sweet like it was the last thing he would ever eat in his life.
Shit, maybe it really was.
It was a good cupcake. A really good cupcake with soft, velvety frosting and a moist, delicious cake. Didn’t it deserve to spread its wings and be shared with the rest of the population, blessing taste buds and palates alike, offering young and old folks a piece of happiness?
“... Alright, I’m going to assume the meeting didn’t go well.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung breathed out, taking one last bite of his precious, priceless, irreplaceable cupcake. “We didn’t get funding.”
Jin gasped. “What? How is that possible?”
He shrugged, stepping away from the table to go wash his hands in the sink. “The pigface said we didn’t provide the necessary documents.”
“But we did, didn’t we? I checked with you.”
Taehyung nodded, grabbing a cloth to dry his hands, before turning around to face his employee again. Jin looked dumbfounded, his pouty lips open in surprise. “Yeah we did, but that knucklehead said one of the papers must have gotten lost at some point.”
“Uh? And how is it our fault that they’re incompetent dumbasses?”
Taehyung smiled at his friend's animosity. Shit, he wouldn’t be able to continue paying his wage if they didn’t get funding. The bakery was still relatively new and, while they did have a good amount of clientele, it was still not enough to sustain the entire business without exterior help.
Jin seemed to be able to read his thoughts. He stepped closer and put a reassuring hand on Taehyung’s shoulders. “Hey, don’t worry about me, alright? I’ll be glad to help around for some time if you need it, even if you can’t pay me.”
Taehyung immediately shook his head. “No way. You’re my friend, but you’re also my employee. You’ll get paid for as long as I can manage,” he promised, although a part of him wondered how long that would be.
“Can’t you take a loan, otherwise?”
Taehyung sighed again. “Can’t. They wouldn’t let me with the amount I already took on to open this bakery. Shit. Why is life so complicated?” he whined, grabbing the handle of the coffee maker to prepare himself some dark, bitter coffee.
He hated coffee – even more plain, black coffee – but he needed something that would make him feel as bad as his current situation. Sue him if it made him look dramatic.
“Coffee?” he asked Jin, who was looking at him in silence, his sharp eyes shining with a mysterious glint. Taehyung ignored it. He had enough mysteries on his plate, namely: The Story of The Paper Who Disappeared; followed by volume two, a thriller: The Desperate Boy who Became Bankrupt and Turned to Crimes to Fund a Bakery.
“Sure.”
He hummed, setting off to make the drinks, the movement coming up to him like second nature. Shit, that coffee machine alone had cost him 8,000,000 won, and that was without counting the coffee grains, the different milks, and the other accessories required to make (flavorsome, mouth-watering) drinks.
Maybe he should drink more coffee. Enjoy the high quality before he would eventually have to get rid of the coffeemaker.
He set a steaming cup in front of Jin, and took a sip of his own.
He immediately scrunched his nose.
Ew. Absolutely disgusting. Utterly vile drink. Maybe the coffee machine wouldn’t be a big loss.
“What if…” Jin started, and his doubting tone, so atypical of him, made Taehyung look up questioningly. “What if you went to ask Jeon Jungkook for help?”
He blinked. “Who?”
Jin stared at him as if he were looking at the dumbest person in the room and yeah, granted, maybe he was. For his defense, he hadn’t pursued higher education like Jin had (although he was a star student in high school, thank you very much.).
“Jeon Jungkook? Local legend, mob boss, Jeon Jungkook?”
Taehyung took another sip of his revolting drink, before he resigned himself to adding soy milk to it, then turned to face Jin, raising one eyebrow.
“Never heard of him. But I’m not sure recommending me to seek help at the feet of a mob boss is what a best friend is supposed to do. Shouldn’t you, you know, prevent me from doing crimes?”
Jin raised his shoulders, completely unbothered. “You don’t exactly have a straight moral compass to begin with.”
Taehyung pondered for a second, then ultimately nodded. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
“Anyways,” Jin left his empty cup in the sink (how could he drink that disgusting thing so fast? It made Taehyung nauseous just thinking about it), washed his hands and went back to piping his cupcakes. “You should look into him. I have a friend who asked for his help and as long as you complete your part of the deal, then you shouldn’t have any issues.”
“And what could a mob boss possibly want from me? Free pastries for a year? A lifelong supply of coffee as black as his soul? My first son?”
“I heard he’s a big fan of sweets, so your first suggestion might actually work.”
Taehyung scoffed, and he was about to retort something else when the bell from their front door rang, announcing a new client.
“Welcome,” they greeted in unison and, just like that, the conversation faded into thin air, both men focusing back on their tasks. Taehyung offered his most beautiful smile to the old lady, a regular customer since day one.
Cakes first, panic later.
*
The bell shimmed again.
“Welcome! I’ll be with you in just a second,” Taehyung yelled from the back, busy taking out some fresh pastries from the kitchen to bring them to the front. “Sorry, my colleague just went out for a delivery and– Oh. It’s you.”
The man smirked at him from where he was leaning over the counters, elbows resting on the surface, arms crossed. Tattoos were peeking out from his rolled up sleeves, his white shirt hugging every corner of his stupidly muscular body, the golden skin of his neck and chest glistening under a delicate silver necklace. Of course, the first three buttons were undone, begging everyone to look at the display of complexion.
Taehyung huffed. As if.
“I see my presence brings you joy, darling. It’s always a pleasure to be so warmly welcomed,” the man teased, and Taehyung felt the beginning of a headache reach his temples. “Well, for all it’s worth, I am delighted to see you today, doll.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes, delicately placing the new pastries on the trays, before he wiped his hands on a nearby cloth and headed towards the counter where the newcomer was standing.
“Welcome to Scenery! What can I get started on for you?” he greeted in an overly sweet voice, putting a very obvious fake smile on his face, and tilting his head to the side in a cute move just for good measure.
The man grinned, his black eyes glistening with amusement. His long, ashy hair was pulled back into a man bun today; Taehyung only noticed it because it gave him a clearer view of his jackass face, of course. There was something… triggering in that stranger’s smile. He had perfect teeth and infuriatingly rosy lips, which seemed to always be pulled up into a mocking grin. Why did handsome strangers always have to be flirty assholes?
What a waste of good looks.
Stranger wasn’t the appropriate word to name the man, though, considering he had been coming to the shop and making advances at least once a week for the past six months and, periodically, even twice or thrice.
He could be considered a regular. A regular, with a niche expertise in exasperating cheesy pickup lines and who, for some reason, seemed intent on getting into Taehyung’s pants.
He also apparently loved cream puffs.
“This shirt looks lovely on you,” he commented, ignoring Taehyung’s snarky remark. “This color really makes your eyes pop out.”
Damnit. Now he would think about it every time he wore this outfit.
“Is it new? I don’t remember seeing it on you.”
Yes it was. Taehyung didn’t know whether to be impressed or scared. “You’re aware this makes you sound like a stalker, right?”
The man chuckled, his tongue darting out quickly to toy with his bottom lip piercing.
Because of course, he had one. And many on his ears as well. Not that Taehyung was looking or something.
“You wound me, my dear. I am simply observant,” he purred and, suddenly, he was leaning over the counter, coming dangerously close to him, the potent notes of his musky perfume reaching Taehyung’s nose. He smelled expensive and warm. Whatever that meant. “I like to pay attention to pretty things, you see.”
The husky tone of his voice took Taehyung off guard, his belly simmering weirdly with emotions he would not name. He took a step backwards, giving the excuse of going to grab his pliers.
“The usual?” Taehyung asked after clearing his throat, turning a deaf ear to the other comment, wanting nothing more than to attend to the man rapidly and get him out of his shop. The simple, innocent question, however, brought a delectable smile to the regular’s face.
“You know my order? I’m flattered, sweetheart. I didn’t think you paid that much attention to me.”
Taehyung felt his left eye twitch. “Don’t think too highly of yourself. You come here a lot, that’s all.”
“Can you blame me? Everything looks delicious. And…” he looked intensely at Taehyung, tilting his head invitingly to the side, in a way that showed off his sharp jawline. “I love sweet things.”
Taehyung scoffed in annoyance, rolling his eyes and moving towards the display to grab the man’s habitual order, consisting of a mix of their bestselling cream puffs. If his cheeks got a little hotter, he blamed it on the stuffy air of the bakery, and not on the foolishly handsome client unabashedly making him advances. Sue him. It had been a long time since someone had flirted so unashamedly with him. He was out of practice. It was a normal bodily reaction.
Who would even fall for such sweet words?
“Anything else with this?”
He guessed the man’s response before it even left his mouth. “Your phone number would be a nice addition to this sweet treat,” he replied with a cocky smile, and Taehyung sighed, ringing the order in the cash machine.
“You know, you should update your pickup lines. I’m tired of hearing them.” He looked up at the man with a blank expression on his face. “That’d be 9,000 won.”
The stranger took out his wallet, and Taehyung let his gaze wander at his tattooed hands for a second. “Demanding, I see. I’ll make sure to come back with praise that is up to your standards. I just want to please you, darling.” He took out a 50,000 won bill and put it on the counter, grabbing his pastries and retreating towards the door. “Keep the change, sweetheart. Consider it me paying for our first date at a coffee shop. Romantic, right?”
He winked and left without awaiting a response, and Taehyung was left there with the change still in his hand, looking at the closing door like an idiot.
He huffed. How annoying.
*
So. Taehyung had done his research.
Never in his life would he have thought to be, one day, unironically looking up “how to make an appointment with a mob boss” on Google, but here he was.
Jeon Jungkook seemed to be pretty well known in this area, he gathered, although he managed to find no pictures of the guy. Taehyung imagined the mafioso from the movies, a man in his fifties, with gray hair, a clean-shaved beard and a scar across the eye, always clad in a dark-toned suit.
Taehyung had fallen down the rabbit hole and looked up as much information as possible online, and he had ended up on a suspicious website where a few anonymous people were praising the mob boss for deals they had made with them, and how he had changed their lives through miracles. It seemed he wasn’t the only one in a desperate situation; he wasn’t that surprised. He didn’t exactly reside in the fanciest neighborhood of Seoul. He knew quite a few people struggling to make ends meet around him.
With his extensive research done, Taehyung set out to the only location he could find related to Jeon Jungkook, a laundromat (cliché much?) located twenty minutes away by foot from his workplace. With the amount of praise he had heard about the guy, he had one thing in mind: getting out of this meeting with a plan to save his precious bakery, no matter the cost.
This bakery was his life-long project, god dammit. He had used all the inheritance from his grandmother’s passing to honor it, knowing his halmeoni, the person who had raised him, wanted him to make his dream a reality.
Scenery would survive, mark his freaking word.
*
The laundromat itself looked like… any normal, innocent laundromat, to be honest, with several washing machines on and a strong smell of soap.
Uh. Not what Taehyung had imagined.
He stepped foot inside, looking around for an adjacent room or something, and on the lookout for if a random mafia man decided to attack him out of nowhere. Taehyung had done three boxing classes five years ago, he was ready to take them on.
(He had barely learned anything. How much could you learn when you spent half the lessons avoiding punches and the other half running away in fear?)
The loud alarm announcing the end of a washing cycle startled him badly, and he whipped around with a hand on his chest. “God dammit! Oh, for fuck’s sake, I almost had a heart attack,” he mumbled to himself.
The corner of the shop had a staircase leading to another floor, and Taehyung guessed he was more likely to find some offices there than in the middle of soap and dirty laundry.
He went up the stairs silently, then found himself in front of a closed door. He pondered for a second. There was no sign indicating what was behind it. Taehyung didn’t really know what he had expected. Maybe a neon sign board claiming “we make your dreams come true! Come talk to daddy mafia” or something.
He knocked.
Silence greeted him. He raised his fist to knock again, but got interrupted by a come in from the other side.
Alright. There we go. In the seconds before opening the door, he prayed to his grandma to protect him if things went south.
God knows ajumma spirits can be brutal.
The room was… well. Underwhelming. The space wasn’t luxurious with chandeliers and gold frames, didn’t have hostages crying while being chained up to the wall, and there weren’t any visible guns or a group of gangsters smoking while laughing mockingly.
There was, however, a dark-haired man sitting behind a clean, white desk, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. There was a huge scar crossing his other eye, starting from his forehead all the way down his cheek.
Ah. So he had guessed at least one thing right.
Taehyung closed the door behind himself, and stood there in silence like an idiot before realizing the guy wasn’t going to talk. Maybe his tongue had been cut off?
“I want to talk with Jeon Jungkook,” he claimed with utmost confidence. A group of mafia men wasn’t going to scare him. What frightened him, however, were the bills he was going to receive at the end of the month.
The guy chuckled, looking amused at his demand. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Taehyung frowned. “Why not?”
“Well, you see,” the man started, twirling a pen expertly around his fingers in a display of truthfully impressive skill. “Boss is busy. And he doesn’t talk with people… like you.”
Taehyung huffed, crossing his arms. “What is that even supposed to mean? People like me?”
“You know.” Scar-eye signaled him with a vague movement of his free hand. “People who look like they sleep with teddy bears and sell cupcakes for a living.”
Taehyung blushed suddenly. What. Surely it was just a coincidence, right? There was no way this guy knew those things about him. Even Jin didn’t know he still slept with a teddy bear!
Frustrated, he stepped closer to the desk, planting his hands on it. Sure, he knew he looked as menacing as a baby chick with his fluffy hair, round glasses and cozy sweater, but Taehyung was determined, and in particular, he was pissed.
“I didn’t know I needed a scar across the eye and a brooding look on my face to be an acceptable member of the mafia community,” he retorted, and the man in front of him looked genuinely surprised by his remark, his smile sliding into a smirk. “But I’m not leaving until I have met Jeon Jungkook.”
Admittedly, maybe talking back to someone from the mafia wasn’t the best idea if he wanted to stay alive, or simply earn their favors. His grandmother, bless her soul, had always told him his bratty mouth would be both his rise and downfall. He guessed he had to figure out which of the two it would be, today.
Taehyung wasn’t one to get mad easily, but there were a few exceptions that made his blood boil immediately:
1. Groups of people who walked slowly while taking up the entire space on the sidewalk,
2. Infuriatingly good looking regulars who keep trying to get into his pants with stupid pick-up lines,
3. And people who believed they were better than everyone else because they held even the most ridiculous amount of power. Fuck off.
Somehow, he was sure this dude belonged to all three categories. He felt like he was back at the bank, standing in front of a useless worker who thought he was better than everyone else because he wore a suit and made more money. Uh. Maybe the mafia was overrated.
The man seemed unaffected. “You know, for someone who came here to ask for a favor, you sure have a rude mouth.”
Taehyung refused to feel embarrassed at being called out. “Yeah, well, I’d be more polite if you didn’t immediately judge me based on my looks. I came here for a reason. I want to talk to Jeon Jungkook.”
The man’s smirk widened, a pleased glint in his eyes. Was he amused by his temper and imagining all the ways he could kill him and get rid of his body? He certainly looked very entertained. Taehyung felt a bit like a strange animal in a zoo being laughed at by spoiled little kids who would throw rocks at him to make him trash out.
“You’re right, that was shallow of me. I apologize,” the man recognized, and Taehyung wondered if this day could get any fucking weird. Getting insulted and then receiving an apology from the mafia wasn’t exactly in his five-year plan, but then again, seeking out the mafia had not been in his plans at all. “But I already told you that’s not possible. You can join our waiting list, though, and maybe… we’ll consider you.”
He had said it in a tone that suggested Taehyung would absolutely not be considered, and he felt his nerves boiling.
He was about to explain, very calmly, that he could not freaking wait and that was the literal reason why he was here, when an adjacent door (that he hadn’t even noticed) opened, and a gorgeous man with soft, blond hair and a cherubic face came out of it.
“Yoongi, baby, have you seen– Oh, hi. I didn’t know we had company.”
Taehyung squinted his eyes, eyeing the newcomer up and down, then down and up, and looked back at the raven-haired man behind the desk. “So you won’t accept me because I look like this, while he’s working here looking like that?”
A bunch of hypocrites, all of them. The new boy looked like he belonged on magazine covers or working around children in a nursery. He looked like an actual angel, for fuck’s sake.
The blond giggled, apparently not offended at all by his remark, and he walked to the other man, plopping down on his lap. Taehyung’s eyes widened, taken off guard.
“He wants to talk to Jungkook,” explained Scar-eye, his hands wrapping naturally around Angel’s waist, in a way that looked way too gentle and soft.
Uh.
“That’s usually what people come here for, indeed,” Angel teased, and Scar-eye gently bit his neck in retaliation, making the blond giggle again, and the entire scene was so unexpectedly domestic that Taehyung felt all his temper disappear into thin air.
Maybe he went to the wrong place and those guys were just playing along to make fun of him? He did think that the room didn’t look very mafia-like. Shit. Maybe this was actually a simple laundromat.
“And what did you say?” continued Angel, completely unaware of Taehyung’s internal turmoil, turning around slightly on the other’s lap to wrap both his arms around his neck.
“That Jungkook was busy.”
Taehyung pouted. That was not exactly what he had said. He had found it necessary to mock his fashion style and life choices.
“What did you say your name was?” Angel asked him directly, while Scar-eye was tucking a blond strand of hair behind his ear, from which was dangling what looked like a very real, very expensive gemstone. Taehyung startled, not expecting to be brought back into the discussion so quickly.
“K-Kim Taehyung.”
Both men instantaneously froze and looked at each other, before they broke out into laughter.
Taehyung didn’t know what caused this reaction to his name, but he wasn’t sure he was enjoying being the laughing stock. He very much felt like a third well left out of the loop.
Angel got up from Scar-eye’s lap, then, going around the desk to stand in front of him. He was slightly shorter and, from this close, Taehyung could see how flawless his skin was. Damn. Maybe he truly was a model. That industry was pretty sketchy, right? They probably mingled with the mafia.
“Come, Taehyung-ssi. I’ll guide you to Jungkook.”
Taehyung couldn’t help but gasp in surprise. That was it? It worked?
Forget modeling. That man was probably an undercover angel sent straight from above. There wasn’t any other explanation he would accept. Even mister Scar-eye seemed whipped for him.
Taehyung nodded frantically and followed him to the door he had just exited from. That was it. That was the moment he had been expecting for… at least the past two days. His sole savior was standing in the room on the other side of the door, a solution to Taehyung’s problem at his fingertips.
He breathed in once, twice. He needed to make a good impression. He had to convince the Big Boss that he deserved his help, and would be willing to accept whatever price he deemed fit in return.
Angel knocked but didn’t wait for a reply before opening it and stepping in, Taehyung hot on his heels. There was a man sitting in a desk chair facing away from them, and Taehyung couldn’t see him apart from the mop of black hair on his head.
“Kook. You’ve got special… company. Came here just for you,” Angel announced, a dangerous-looking smirk on his face and, for the first time, Taehyung could understand why he belonged here.
The chair squeezed when it began turning around, and Taehyung held his breath.
That was it. There was no going back, now. He had to nail this.
The chair turned, turned, turned, annoyingly slow, agonizingly unrushed, until, finally, a man was facing him.
Taehyung’s breath left his lungs like a punch.
“Hello, sweetheart. It’s nice of you to seek me out for once.”
Good impressions be damned. Taehyung groaned loudly, his head falling back in annoyance.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
From the other side of the room, Jeon Jungkook smiled at him with the same smile he always sported when he came to flirt with him at the bakery.