Not That I Didn’t Go Crazy Tryna Figure How To Make That Outline Tho - Blog Posts

actually really proud of the header i made for this one, fav color palette ever 😔🫶🏻💁🏻‍♀️

shades of you ★ jjk

gguk's ficbook

brief: helping you from getting caught by the cops starring: roommate!jk x f!reader tags/warnings: mentions of graffiti art, reader is sort of a rebel (she's got reasons), jungkook is lowk sus note: clearing my drafts and blurbs before i venture further! tbh it's been long, tiring and exhausting in here— but i love writing too much to let go <3

A dark brown leather, but worn out jacket hung over your shoulders, slumping due to the weight of the bag full of potential tools you had in them, the night washed over the sky, a few dimly lit, flickering street lights were the only form of brightness in your life.

literally. 

Kicking and rolling the few stones that lay unattended on the floors of the walkway, your eyes slowly lift up from gazing at the rocks, and fix them on the few clean and ready to be done walls sprawled out, as if it is welcoming you.

Stopping on your tracks, the sound of the bag being practically thrown on the ground stinged your ears because of the metal bottles of spray paint in them. 

Yes, those were your tools of comfort, the very ones that help you decorate the walls with talent. Your uni didn’t necessarily invite you in for the innumerable art competitions, even if you wanted to, let’s just say because you weren’t very reputable around.

To unpack the happenings from the timeline of your transfer to the new uni from your hometown — from where you were terminated during a collective campaign you launched with a couple of friends against the corrupted management system— the natural looks of loathe you got in the new school wasn’t exactly unfathomable. 

It was inevitable, you knew you wouldn’t be accepted in the right way anymore.

Exactly why now, you stood here in the utmost dingiest part of the alley with the shadiest surroundings— it was the typical place that screamed “unsafe”, but you still felt nothing but pure bliss when you shook the spray can, the light tapping sound reverberating through the atmosphere which was devoid of noise except the occasional chirp of crickets, as your hands moved freely with the strokes that accentuated liberty through art.

Ironically enough, it was something you were deprived of, all your life while fighting for it. 

Getting yourself enrolled in college again was the last thing on your mind, resorting to certain small jobs, but you had the will to live and fight your way along, against injustice. That landed you where you currently pursued studies at, and with a few connections, you managed to find housing right next to college.

It wasn’t anything big— but could call it home. It soon became one for two, as your hunt for a roommate rested when ultimately, Jeon Jungkook, a timid freshman started lodging with you.

You’d usually walk into the house after college and see him sprawled on the sofa, reading. Then you’d get out for some fresh air into the balcony, and there he’d be being an ever know avid reader, again.

And like that, you just decided to keep yourself away from him, so that you wouldn’t become a scar to his peace; a blemish.

Occasional greetings and fleeting moments in the kitchen whenever the two of you grabbed morning cereal or late night snacks were common, but apart from that he was just a regular compsci major.

The one who you were intrigued by.

Your thoughts are occupied with him, while you brush on the wall with the spray paint. Mindlessly, your hands, merged with the rhythm of your mind, stroked “田柾國”  onto the surface of the wall.

You were a Korean culture enthusiast, and thus mastered Hanja, a traditional writing system that consists of Chinese characters. A small chuckle escaped and melted into the air, as you suddenly snapped out of the daze.

Painting was your only escape, but you weren’t one who frequently zoned out while working.

“Shit- Did I just write his name in Hanja..” You mumbled those words contradicting the look of pure amusement in your face.

As you were about to paint more graffiti onto the wall, a faint noise of a siren, possibly of the cop vans, echoed vividly, around the empty alley like an alarm, a warning.

Your ears perked and the thought of getting into trouble electrified your spine like it usually doesn't and pieces of fear pricked into your head wounding your previously soft thoughts.

If you get caught, you will definitely be expelled again. Been through it once, but this time it’s different with Jungkook involved.

You somehow grew attached, and don't want to cease being his one and only roommate.

A warm fuzzy feeling coursed through you.

Beep. Wrong timing.

You were in the middle of fucking running away from cops.

Get your shit together, ___.

Hurriedly, you carelessly stuffed the supplies into the backpack and rushed with folding up the ladder you stood in, putting it aside to clear off any traces of your presence. T

he sirens grew closer and closer as your breath hitched seeing the vans pull up, the headlights illuminating the streets.

This was it. You were about to get caught.

But just as the cops were surrounding the place where you beautifully painted the graffiti on, a pair of hands swiftly scooped you into the nothingness of the small walkway behind the walls and in no time, the person, whoever it was, connected their foreheads with yours, in an attempt to look like you both were just mere couples minding their own business.

A torch light glimmered through the alley and into the small pathway behind and immediately retracted.

Cops were out of sight, but still the man had himself attached to you, his hands tenderly gripping your waist in a ring, his breath fanning over your face.

You were slow to notice the flavor of mint Jungkook timidly asks you to buy whenever you go out—the one smell that makes your heart tumble in an approximately infinite number of somersaults—filling your senses.

“Jungkook?” You cautiously whispered, his face too close to yours to let you breathe. 

“You’re one little troublesome thing aren’t you?” Now that’s not the Jungkook you know. His voice seemed deeper than the galaxies his eyes held. 

“I was just doing what I like.” You shrugged off, just like you weren’t standing wide eyed with a racing heart.

“Same.” He whispered before holding your jaw and diving in, bringing back your lips in his as you were utterly shocked, but your senses kissed him back, with the same passion. He walked backwards, out into the street where the wall stood, his name in Hanja shone brighter than ever, in the moonlight.

Pulling out, he rested his forehead on yours again, but you walked off towards the broken switches that controlled the flimsy bulb that hung over on the most dark alleyway and turned them up, the lights going out as the both of you were illuminated with just the dim moonlight, which seemed to disappear into the clouds, as if they were sucked in its vortex.

“Who are you?”

A question for a question.

As the night entangles its beauty into the walls that lay bare in front of your vision, you watch the letters in hanja, your art piece slowly disappearing from sight.