#he does it like- wholly undisturbed and affectionately

[sleepieguy]

what does it say about me that I have gone insane about already-taken communist dick twice this year

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Novel ink (Namjoon x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, romance, Guesthouse AU

Pairing: Guesthouse manager!Namjoon x foreign!Reader

Warnings: No warnings apply

Summary: Each story begins with a word written in ink, noted down with a pen. And in a paradise of them, two souls from different cultures find a deeper meaning to a bond freshly smitten in the Seoul spring.

Author’s Note: I already dropped a teaser to this AU. However, this is merely the beginning.

Masterlist

Every person has their own source of happiness, a little something that can ignite the greatest of joys within at its occurrence. A cup of tea on a rainy day with a book or comic, a meal which might not be good for the body yet tastes too wonderful to simply turn away after a long arduous day, good company to explore an alien city that has only been read about before with and thus enjoy the sensation of continuously discovering new things like the famous explorers of contemporary and olden times. The memories of a beloved during beautiful moments in life even count among the means to personal happiness.

Withal, in some cases, it involves a sense of materialism which goes paired with the creativity that is executed by putting thoughts to paper and thus create worlds for others to enjoy.

Stationary.

Especially when it comes in all sorts of varieties that create endless possibilities to fill the journal that contains the inked manifestations and tangible images of a dreaming mind. So, when in Asia on a holiday and coming across a gigantic shop selling pens, memo pads, stickers and everything in between, it is very likely two precious hours meant for further exploration are as lost as the foreign valuta actually preserved for truly necessary means.

Although, the importance of the scribbling materials is keen to be disputed, likely resulting in the listener walking away due to having prematurely acknowledged fighting the argument they are valuable is futile. Or, mayhaps in the slightest, be convinced themselves of the opinion and share it in the least a bit. It can go either way each time the subject comes up in a conversation.

But on this occasion, it has an unexpected result.

Admitting, the sparked genuine enjoyment of the circumstances is not only triggered this afternoon by the greatest of discoveries but also, as seems to be the case on a daily basis, by the guesthouse manager who offered to show Seoul and leave the establishment in the hands of the co-worker, Hoseok; a handsome man with a tall face, kind brown glistening eyes and a cheerful energetic albeit serious when needed attitude.

However, what Namjoon did not anticipate, was the reaction to what was thought to simply be a regular store in a street wherein a multitude of them focused on beauty and fashion are located, only distinct in the assortment yet nothing special. Though, to be fair, the enthusiasm was once mirrored, as was later casually remarked upon while standing in front of the washi tape section, unable to walk away with merely one set while the blonde man seemed to solely have eyes for the indecisive scribbler and no attention for the assortment of wonderful decoration. The fingers brushing against the palm were noticed but ignored to not give off any false hope, too naively scared it would lead down a road that did not want to be wandered down again. Notwithstanding, the contact felt incredible, awakening an empty part of the soul left slumbering undisturbed at the last heavy farewell it had to endure.

When the contact faded, it was oddly directly missed, the craving for the shy intimacy immediately though not actively sought after.

Another astonishing feat was the energy that bursts forth regardless of the heavy bags filled with KPop albums, merchandise and massive stationary haul tinted with food to try at home with friends and family from the nearest Daiso - another event that could not have been prevented by the tall tanned broad-shouldered guy who has been acting like a person of confidence and almost a sort of guardian since first arriving in the city.

Like a true gentleman, it was offered to carry the most weighty of the three speed-reducing bags, even proposing to take on another after yet another purchase, twenty-two pairs of socks at the cheap price of twenty-thousand won in the underground mall of Myeong-Dong’s tube station. Nevertheless, the concerned smile on full deep pink lips turned into a sincerely amused one after dumping the load of new unseen pieces of clothing in the biggest back and almost falling sideways due to temporarily losing balance, having wrongly estimated the division of the weight.

And that same smile has turned slightly despairing each time it remembers the fact of ever having mentioned ARTBOX to a journal enthusiast in the first place, never having thought it would end like this the moment a wearied traveller from across the globe finally found some rest in the corner of the denim-clad couch while the blonde manager prepared the, initially wrong, room.

Joon has been nothing but an incredible host, allowing to first sleep a bit to catch up on some shut-eye after eleven hours of travelling and maybe only sleeping through two of them on the second flight, which consisted of nine hours of reading with non-seeing fancying eyes, before handling the details of the stay, moved by finding a barely conscious writing hobbyist holding a pen without penning anything down.

The store was brought up during the conversation upon the return from the first-day explorations in Itaewon, sheepishly mentioning the shared room in which luggage was placed and a short nap was taken was the wrong one and quickly helping with transferring everything to a private chamber at once. At the door, the avocation was inquired after and gradually lead to the name ‘’ARTBOX’’ at seeing the, apparently shared, love for noting down thoughts in words and images as the kind well-built walking tree - a lame self-mocking joke that brightened an exhausted expression when properly introducing one another to each other, clearly to the great delight of the joker - remarked how he comes there every once in a while to also get supplies for keeping a diary that lets a busy mind contain a sliver of sanity. 

At seeing the spark of wanton wishing to visit the stationary paradise, the sweet manager shyly proposed to go there together the following day and do some sightseeing within Myeong-Dong, rubbing the back of a caramel neck while doing so. Besides, no guests were set to check in and Hoseok would also be there to manage the place, thus leaving Namjoon with the opportunity to live leisurely for the next twenty-four hours. Not wanting to disappoint the obviously embarrassed man and actually having judged him good company to get to know better, the request was taken up and certainly worth the cheerful smile showing clean snow-white teeth.

That same content grin, albeit in an exhausted though affectionate version, is on those very same maroon lips as gentle dark brown eyes watch the stationary fanatic dart to and fro with a gradually getting quite filled basket. In certain places, the writing traveller hesitantly lingers due to inwardly debating whether or not that pen or the notebook over there should be bought regardless of it being the fourth of a similar kind howbeit in a colour not yet retrieved or with a different style of cover.

An hour has already passed, bags getting heavier by the minute as Joon’s arms grow agitated by the burden, but it does not matter because the concentrated interest in the variety of writing tools is, even obvious from afar, amusing to watch. Furthermore, there is a secret hidden joy each time a personal favourite is picked up, especially after having been vocally low-key advised to do so as the tanned manager stands close enough to give any other curious men enough of an idea that a potential bond of any sort is out of the question. Not that that is necessarily an invalid claim by both parties since, at least for the moment, each other is all which is needed and the attention from outside individual interference is fairly if not wholly unwelcome.

Be that as it may, everything eventually must come to an end and thus the seemingly endless quest in the paradise of memo pads, ink and notebooks results in a paradoxical close after finally paying for the materials, continuing to hold on to the indirect unspoken mutual opinion.

Something we both write about in our connected journals tonight.