*****
The first time Jeon Jungkook saw Kim Taehyung, he thought he was just another rich customer with expensive shoes and a bored expression.
He didn’t know he was looking at the most feared man in the city.
The winter wind howled outside Golden Crumbs, Jungkook’s small bakery tucked between a flower shop and a bookstore in a quiet alley of Busan. The air inside smelled like warm cinnamon, melted butter, and fresh bread — a scent Jungkook believed could heal almost anything.
He was covered in flour, sleeves rolled up, humming softly as he pulled trays of pastries from the oven. His dark hair stuck to his forehead, cheeks slightly pink from the heat.
The door chimed.
Jungkook didn’t look up immediately. “Welcome! One minute, please!”
Boots clicked against the tiled floor.
Not rushed. Not hesitant.
Measured.
When Jungkook finally glanced up, he almost dropped the tray.
The man standing there looked like a storm dressed in black. Tailored coat. Sharp jawline. Cold, unreadable eyes. Hands in pockets like he owned not just the room — but the world.
Behind him stood another man, shorter, with soft features and calculating eyes.
“Hyung,” the second man murmured quietly, scanning the bakery. “You sure about this place?”
The first man didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on Jungkook.
Jungkook swallowed. “Uhm… what would you like?”
The man stepped closer to the counter. His voice was deep, smooth — dangerous.
“Something sweet.”
Jungkook blinked. “Everything here is sweet.”
A faint smirk tugged at the man’s lips.
“Then choose for me.”
The shorter man sighed. “Tae, we don’t have time—”
“Jimin,” Taehyung cut him off calmly. “Relax.”
Jimin raised a brow but stepped back.
Jungkook tried not to stare. Tae. That name felt familiar. Heavy. Like something he’d heard whispered in late-night news reports.
He quickly packed a box of chocolate croissants and strawberry tarts.
“On the house,” Jungkook said nervously, offering a small smile. “First-time customer discount.”
Taehyung studied him.
No fear in his eyes.
No recognition.
Just warmth.
He accepted the box slowly. “You always give things away so easily?”
Jungkook laughed softly. “Not everything.”
Something flickered in Taehyung’s eyes at that.
He placed money on the counter anyway — far more than necessary.
And left.
*******
That night, in a dim penthouse overlooking the city, Park Jimin leaned against the bar while Taehyung stared out at the skyline.
“You went to a bakery,” Jimin said flatly.
“Yes.”
“You — Kim Taehyung — Mafia king of Busan — went to buy croissants.”
Taehyung took a slow bite of one, eyes distant.
“He didn’t know who I was.”
Jimin went silent.
That… was rare.
“He didn’t look at me like I was dangerous,” Taehyung continued quietly. “He looked at me like I was… human.”
Jimin studied his friend carefully.
“This is dangerous, Tae.”
Taehyung didn’t deny it.
“I know.”
*****
Jeon Jungkook lived a simple life.
Wake up at 4 AM. Bake until noon. Smile at customers. Close shop. Spend evenings with his cousin Min Yoongi, who helped manage finances and occasionally complained about Jungkook giving free bread to struggling students.
“You’re too soft,” Yoongi muttered one night, counting cash. “One day someone’s going to take advantage of you.”
Jungkook grinned. “Not everyone is bad, hyung.”
Yoongi gave him a long look. “That’s what worries me.”
The door chimed again the next morning.
And there he was.
Black coat. Same calm presence.
Taehyung.
“You came back,” Jungkook said, surprised.
“I liked the croissants.”
Jungkook smiled brightly. “Then I’ll pack more.”
“No.”
Taehyung stepped closer.
“I want coffee. And five minutes.”
Jungkook blinked.
“…Five minutes?”
“With you.”
Jungkook felt heat crawl up his neck.
Yoongi, from the back room, narrowed his eyes.
He didn’t like this man.
Not one bit.
******
Days turned into weeks.
Taehyung came every morning.
Sometimes alone.
Sometimes with Jimin silently observing.
He never caused trouble. Never raised his voice. Never touched Jungkook without permission.
He would sit at the corner table, watching Jungkook move around the kitchen with flour-dusted hands and bright laughter.
It was addictive.
Dangerous men aren’t supposed to crave softness.
But Taehyung found himself waiting for Jungkook’s shy smiles.
For the way Jungkook would proudly say, “Try this one, I made it differently today.”
For the way Jungkook’s nose scrunched when he concentrated.
Meanwhile, rumors spread across the city.
A rival gang was rising.
And they wanted the throne.
******
One evening, Jungkook closed the bakery late. Snow fell gently outside.
He stepped into the alley — and froze.
Two men stood there.
Not customers.
Not friendly.
“You Jeon Jungkook?”
His heart pounded. “Y-Yes?”
A harsh laugh.
“So the king’s weakness is a baker.”
Ice shot through Jungkook’s veins.
King?
Before he could react, a hand grabbed his arm.
But then —
Gunshots.
Sharp. Controlled.
The men dropped.
Jungkook gasped as strong arms pulled him backward.
Taehyung.
Face cold. Eyes lethal.
Behind him stood Jimin, gun still raised.
“Did they touch you?” Taehyung’s voice was dangerously quiet.
Jungkook trembled. “Tae… what’s happening?”
Taehyung’s jaw tightened.
“I was trying to keep you out of this.”
“Out of what?”
Silence.
Yoongi suddenly appeared from the bakery, holding a metal bat.
His eyes widened at the bodies.
“…I knew it.”
He looked at Taehyung with fury.
“You brought this to our door.”
Taehyung didn’t argue.
Because Yoongi was right.
*****
That night, everything changed.
Jungkook sat in Taehyung’s penthouse, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the city lights.
“You’re mafia,” Jungkook whispered.
Taehyung didn’t look away.
“Yes.”
“The mafia king.”
“…Yes.”
Jungkook’s chest felt tight.
“You lied.”
“I never told you,” Taehyung corrected softly. “But I never lied.”
Jungkook laughed bitterly.
“That’s worse.”
Silence filled the room.
Taehyung finally turned toward him.
“I was going to disappear from your life.”
Jungkook’s eyes snapped up.
“What?”
“I thought if I stayed away long enough, you’d forget me. You’d be safe.”
“And you decided that alone?” Jungkook’s voice cracked. “You don’t get to choose for me.”
Taehyung stepped closer.
“You don’t understand what my world does to people like you.”
“And what am I like?”
Taehyung’s voice softened.
“Good.”
Jungkook’s eyes filled with tears.
“And you think I’m weak because I’m good?”
Taehyung froze.
“That’s not what I—”
“You don’t get to protect me by pushing me away.”
Taehyung’s control snapped.
He cupped Jungkook’s face, forehead pressing against his.
“You are the only soft thing in my life, Jungkook. The only thing untouched by blood.”
His voice broke.
“And I don’t want to stain you.”
Jungkook’s hands trembled as he gripped Taehyung’s coat.
“Then don’t.”
Taehyung looked confused.
“Don’t bring blood into my world,” Jungkook whispered. “But don’t leave either.”
****
Meanwhile, Jimin and Yoongi stood on opposite sides of the penthouse balcony.
“He’ll ruin him,” Yoongi said coldly.
Jimin shook his head. “No. Jungkook will ruin Tae.”
Yoongi frowned.
“In the best way.”
******
The rival gang struck again.
This time bigger.
They attacked Taehyung’s warehouses.
Ambushed his men.
Sent a message.
“If you want your baker alive, step down.”
Taehyung’s blood ran cold.
Jungkook had gone missing that afternoon.
The bakery was empty.
Flour scattered on the floor.
Yoongi unconscious.
Taehyung had never felt fear like that.
Not in gunfights.
Not in betrayals.
But now?
His hands shook.
Jimin stood beside him.
“This is war.”
Taehyung’s voice was ice.
“No.”
He loaded his gun.
“This is execution.”
*****
Jungkook woke tied to a chair in a warehouse.
He wasn’t crying.
Wasn’t screaming.
He was thinking.
“You look calm,” one of the men mocked.
Jungkook smiled faintly.
“You underestimate bakers.”
He had spent years kneading dough.
Lifting heavy flour sacks.
Waking before dawn.
He wasn’t fragile.
When one man leaned close, Jungkook slammed his head forward.
Chaos erupted.
And then —
The warehouse doors exploded open.
Gunfire echoed.
Men dropped.
And through the smoke —
Taehyung.
Eyes burning.
He reached Jungkook in seconds, cutting ropes with shaking hands.
“Are you hurt?”
Jungkook shook his head.
“You came.”
Taehyung’s voice was raw.
“I would burn this city for you.”
Jungkook gently touched his cheek.
“Don’t.”
Police sirens wailed in the distance.
Jimin had arranged that.
Clean escape.
Efficient.
As always.
*****
Weeks later, things were different.
Taehyung dismantled half his illegal operations.
Shifted investments.
Moved power quietly.
For the first time, the mafia king was building something legitimate.
Jimin watched with amusement.
“Love looks ugly on you.”
Taehyung smirked. “Shut up.”
Yoongi still didn’t trust him fully.
But he saw the change.
And he saw how Jungkook looked at Taehyung.
Not with fear.
Not with blindness.
But with understanding.
One morning, Taehyung stood behind the bakery counter, awkwardly wearing an apron.
Jungkook laughed.
“You look scary holding a piping bag.”
Taehyung leaned close.
“I can handle delicate things.”
Jungkook blushed.
From the corner, Yoongi groaned.
“Please. Not in front of the bread.”
Jimin sipped coffee calmly.
“Honestly, I preferred when Tae was terrifying.”
Taehyung wrapped an arm around Jungkook’s waist.
“I still am.”
Jungkook smiled softly.
“But not to me.”
And that was the difference.
The mafia king who once ruled with fear now woke up at 4 AM to help knead dough.
The baker who once knew nothing of darkness now understood it — and chose to stay anyway.
Because sometimes,
The most dangerous man in the city doesn’t need more power.
He just needs someone who smells like flour,
And believes he can be more than blood and bullets.
And sometimes,
A simple baker
Can tame a king.
