Taekook Oneshots

Good To You

Some people say that love can never be enough because it's never equal. They claim that nobody is willing to hand that much power over to another. Nobody is that selfless, and nobody is in love to that extent.

But they're wrong. There is one set of scales that has never truly been unstable. One set that has never tipped over.

Jeon Jungkook, twenty one, sits on one side of the balance. He's the leader of a gang, that deals with drugs and people alike. It's a family run business, in a way, one that's been going on since the beginning of time. He is cold, calculating, a raging fire made of ice, that's curled up and waiting  to strike, like a sleeping cobra. He's immensely strong.

His body is crossed with endless scars that are only visible if you ignore the body art, if you ignore the dragons and the snarling tigers. If you look close enough, there is a name written on his left collarbone in small purple cursive, and the final flick of the final letter of that name continues in a line that travels round his body like an extra blood vessel.

But do not be fooled by such a tattoo.

He could kill you with his little finger if he wanted to.

But there is one person he will drop the tough act for, one person he would die for if given half the chance. There is one person that can cool the fire with flowing elegance and grace, with soft brown eyes and softer tanned skin, the colour of honey. There is one person whose deep, melodic voice and quiet reasoning can tame the cobra like a snake charmer. In seconds.

Kim Taehyung sits on the other side of the balance.

He's the son of a well respected millionaire, one that believes that he's dead, with two degrees and a Master's to his name, his skin flawless except for a single set of lowercase initials inscribed on the inside of his right wrist in thin black font. jjk.

His body is slender, his attitude innocent and somehow captivating, and he seems like the polar opposite of the man on the other side of this balance. But there is something hiding, a silent strength that hibernates deep within his skin like a bear waiting for the end of an endless winter. It will only wake up when it is needed, when he is truly threatened.

But that doesn't happen often.

Sometimes, Taehyung's older brother will see him, standing by the window of his house, and he will double take. He will wonder if what he's seeing is real, because Kim Taehyung officially died three years ago. But then the figure at the window will disappear, and he will blame it on grief, blame it on indigestion.

After all, it's incredibly difficult to lose a loved one. And moving on can seem almost impossible.

But he doesn't know that he's not hallucinating at all. He's just being tricked by one of the most powerful couples in the country, maybe in the world. Tricked into believing something that was never real from the beginning, by someone who's much more intelligent than they seem. By a young male as clever as he is beautiful.

For Taehyung isn't dead. He's alive.

And he lives with the leader of a gang.

The balance is unstable, it always has been. But there's something about that lack of stability that keeps the two of them going, something that keeps them coming back for more. Despite the occasional fight, which is more like a disagreement than anything else, despite the danger and the chance of Taehyung's living status being discovered by his family, they stay together. They don't care about the potential consequences.

Love can do that to a person, if they're not careful.

It blinds them to reality, gives them rose tinted glasses that can only ever see the light. It takes away any common sense, any rational thought, and replaces every negative thought with something positive. It's almost sickening, how much people turn to mush in the hold of love.

And that's why both sides of the balance refuse to become blinded by love.

They're together. They are in love. There is no doubt about that. It is just the nature of their love which keeps the balance level, the nature of their interactions which stops it from tipping  too far either way and causing the whole thing to go down in flames.

"Princess, do me a favour and hide in our bedroom for an hour. Don't answer to anyone but me," the younger commands one day, his eyes dark and cold, despite the hidden fire that rages within him. The elder male doesn't argue against the order, simply nodding and walking smoothly into the room in question, seeming to glide rather than walk. The click of the lock is the only noise he makes.

The pale, powerful gang leader blinks once, his eyes burning with passion for the one he's just told to disappear, then all emotion drains away. In its place sits a practised smirk, one that warns of death to anyone who angers Jungkook.

He will return to his love later. When everything has calmed down.

And that promise is kept. The younger returns an hour later to see that his lover has followed his instructions, and the knowledge of this is strangely satisfying.

The balance quakes, and for a moment seems to tip over, as something goes wrong, and disagreements push weight onto one side.

"Fucking hell, Tae, I do this to keep you safe! We can't go around telling people where you are, that you're alive just because you regret ever meeting your own boyfriend!"
"He saw me again! He's my fucking brother! I miss him, okay!? I miss him more than anything!"
"Don't forget why we decided to fake your death, Kim. This is for you. Not me. I would've left you there, but I couldn't."
"Sometimes I wish you did!"

The younger takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his face and sighing loudly. "I'll sleep on the couch. We'll talk in the morning," he says firmly, stalking out of the room with all of the strength of a coiled spring. "I'm not talking to you when you're annoyed."
"Won't fuck me then, either, I suppose," the elder male mutters, not expecting his lover to hear him.

He does, and it causes him to freeze in position, shocked out of his mind.

For a moment, they seriously consider it,  heat collecting in their abdomens like a petrol fire, then the younger lifts his head, shaking it once, eyes turning to ice in moments. "No. I won't. I may be irritated, but I would hate to hurt you," he says tightly, leaving before he can change his mind. Even if the idea is more tempting than he wants to admit.

The elder watches him, slightly surprised, but he does nothing. He understands. If he goes after the pale gang leader now, chances are that the balance will tip completely, and everything will break into pieces. Both of them could get hurt, badly, and the whole relationship could be ruined.

He doesn't want that.

It doesn't take long for them to make up, however, and the younger is quick to leave marks on the empty canvas of his lover's skin, purple and red, like blooming flowers opening after a storm. And that, after all, is what they are.

Proof that they can right the scales once more, bring back the balanced nature of it. Stop everything from falling apart.

Because if it did, they too would shatter.