pairing: lin x reader (go figure)
prompt: dyslexic author writes a book that lin loves and he meets her and invites her to see hamilton
warnings: hastag makeout and swearing
word count: 3,069
a/n: happy to write some more for you all. this is one of my favorites. kind of pointless, very sweet. i love lin, but what’s new honestly (ps mY SISTER GOT ENGAGED AND IM SO HAPPY)
Today was hard. You could usually manage, but there was something about today that just made writing so fucking hard. God, you couldn’t even get through a paragraph without the little red line haunting every mistake you made while typing. You had an interview today with a publishing company - what if they asked you to read a chapter from your book? The job would be gone the first time you messed up your w’s and m’s. You groaned, pushing your computer away from you seat at the diner.
It was strange. You would go to type a ‘g’ and think, “g is the lowercase version of G,” and “G looks like a 6,” so you would type a 6. It took much longer for you to get your thoughts out, and you often had to stop and think about what you were writing. God, you hoped they wouldn’t give you a typing test. Do they even still do those?
The waiter brought over a plate of hash browns and your cup of coffee. You ate silently, hoping that maybe the food and caffeine would lift your moral. Dyslexia was hard enough, but being an author made it ten times worse.
Your mom laughed - actually laughed out loud - when you told her that you were writing your first book. She thought you had been completely joking. You pushed it though, not only proving her wrong, but more importantly proving to yourself that a disability wasn’t your definition.
And you did. Your first book was off the charts, every day gaining more attention and praise. You even did a segment on The Ellen Show; that’s what happens when you work your ass off.
You had just started packing up your laptop when a voice startled you.
Your head turned quickly as you jumped back slightly. You settled when you realized it was just a young girl. She was kicking the ground, embarrassed. You laughed lightly, “Yes?”
She looked back up to you - she couldn’t be older than ten. “Are you Y/N?”
You nodded, “What can I do for you, love?”
Her smile grew. She pushed a piece of hair from eyes behind her ear, “My mom read me your book and it’s my favorite.”
Taking in a breath, you grinned. This was a whole new community of people that you hadn’t expected to reach, “Thank you so much, that means the world to me.”
She smiled a little bigger, “I have dyslexia too,” she said. Then, instantly embarrassed, she looked back down.
Your heart swelled; you were rarely confronted about your reading disability. Still, rather than being sheepish over the comment, you felt empowered - inspired even.
You leaned in a little closer, touching her shoulder. “Don’t ever let it stop you from doing what you love, okay?”
She looked back up, then nodding a little, she gave you a hug before running back to the table where her dad sat. He gave you a nod of gratitude before looking back to his daughter.
Honest to God, this had never happened to you before. Sure, you had met a few teens who had read your book, but never anyone younger. Even then, never someone who had felt empowered by reading your story. It was a story about a beach house for God’s sake. And they probably had no idea how many times you spelt ‘beach’ 'baech.’ Still, your heart smiled at the gesture. Maybe today wouldn’t be so hard after all.
Pulling your bag over your shoulder, you headed towards the door before you were stopped once again.
“Wait!” Someone called from behind you, your foot halfway out the door. You were rarely noticed in public - and especially not twice in one morning.
It was a man with a shoulder length hair, the top pulled back from his face. He had a book in his hand. It wasn’t until he was right in front of you that you recognized the cover; it was your book. You let a small smile escape, a blush flooding your cheeks. He was handsome.
He let out half a grin, “Y/N?” You nodded, cueing him to continue. “I’m a huge fan - I’m actually kind of awestruck right now and I’m rambling because you’re very pretty and very talented and -”
You laughed, interrupting him, “Thank you.”
He took in a sharp breath, shoving an outstretched hand towards you, “I’m Lin.”
You shook his hand, thinking about how Lin shouldn’t be too difficult to remember. “Y/N,” you greeted, hoping your hands weren’t too clammy.
After a moment of holding your hand too long, he quickly pulled back, scratching the back of his neck.
“What can I do for you?” You asked softly, bringing his eyes back to yours.
“Oh!” He laughed, extending the book towards you, “I was wondering if you could sign my book for me.”
You fished around your bag for a pen for a moment before realizing that he had a sharpie in his hand. You giggled before started writing in his book.
Thank you so much for reading my book. And don’t worry - your nervous ramble was adorable.
Rereading your note to make sure you hadn’t mixed any letters up, you debated on adding your phone number, but you figured that was much riskier than you felt like being.
He gratefully took the book back, shutting it before even reading it. Shaking his head slightly, he smiled, “My cast is going to flip.”
“Cast?” You questioned, suddenly confused.
“Uh, yeah - I’m in this musical about Alexander Hamilton.” He said sheepishly.
Your eyes went wide, “The one here?”
He nodded, “Why? Is there more than one?” He threw you a wink, making your heart skip despite your eye roll.
Still, you giggled before shaking your head, “I don’t think so. My sister just saw it a few weeks ago.”
He smiled with his entire face, “Really? What’d she think of it?”
“She said it was incredible.”
Lin laughed before doing a little dance, “I can try and score you some tickets - the cast would love to meet you. We’ve all read your book.”
You snatched his copy from his, causing his brows to furrow. Quickly, under your name you scribbled out your number. He smirked at the addition, accepting the book once more.
“Call me?” You asked, using your back to push the door open.
“Definitely,” he said, waving slightly as you walked off. Once you had turned around completely, he gave himself a power fist. “Go Lin,” he smirked.
And call he did. Ten minutes after you left the shop, actually.
“I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a fake number,” he defended.
Feeling flirty, you teased back, “Why would I give a cute guy a fake number?”
“Because you’re way out of his league?” He curbed, making your face flush red.
“Tease,” you mumbled under your breath.
He called that night too: “I wanted to double check it wasn’t a fake number.”
“Lin, you already called me. You know it’s real.”
“Okay, maybe I just wanted to talk to you some more.”
And again in the morning, you hadn’t even gotten out of bed.
“Good morning!” He chirped, eliciting a groan out of you as you quickly turned down the volume on your phone.
“Too early,” you mumbled.
“Noted,” he said before continuing. “I got you a ticket for Friday night.”
This seemed to wake you up, “Really?”
He nodded before realizing you couldn’t see him, “Does that work?”
“Yeah,” you said, sitting up and smoothing back your hair. “What do I wear?” You thought aloud.
He laughed, “A dress. But comfortable. It’s a long show.”
“Okay,” you grinned, “Thank you so much.”
“Of course,” he answered quickly. “But you have to promise to meet the cast afterwards - they’ll be pissed if they know they didn’t get to meet you.”
“Absolutely. I’ll be the starstruck one.”
“Doubtful,” he said. You could practically hear his smirk through the phone.
You were writing again the next day. Your mind was elsewhere, thinking about Lin and what dress to wear and Friday. Still, when you went back to correct your mistakes, your writing had a different tone to it; much lighter and more fluid.
Friday came soon enough and you were a wreck. You had called your sister and explained what happened. She instantly gushed about how attractive Lin was - and how talented he was. You called him after, frustrated that he hadn’t told you he was the star of the show.
“You’re telling me that my writing is good, but you’re an Emmy winner for your musicals! I feel like you gassed me up.” You heard him laugh through the phone, making you frown. “Lin,” you whined.
“Okay, okay!” He giggled, “I play Alexander Hamilton in Hamilton, but I didn’t gas you up. I’m actually obsessed with your book.”
“Shut up,” you grumbled. He only laughed again.
“You’re adorable,” he settled on, making you blush. “But seriously, Jasmine - you’ll meet her, she is so talented - was the first to read it, right? She gave it to Pippa - you’ll meet her too - and then Diggs -“
“His name is Diggs?”
“Daveed Diggs, he’s ridiculous. He’s a rapper.”
“And then they gave it to me because they wouldn’t shut up about the book, and they were annoyed that I couldn’t talk about it with them.”
You were smiling by now, listening smoothly, “So you’ve got a book club,” you teased.
He threw his head back, “I suppose you could call it that.”
The two of you talked for the rest of the night, by the time it was midnight, he suggested that you just come over.
“Lin, it’s the middle of the night.”
“Well, it depends how you look at it, in some parts of the world -“
“Lin,” you laughed. “For someone who has a never ending supply of energy, how is it that you don’t need sleep? It’s so ironic.”
He smiled into the phone, “Says the dyslexic author.”
You let out a hard laugh. It was new to laugh so freely about something that had limited you for so long. He wasn’t using it against you, simply acknowledging it.
“Too far?” He asked, suddenly nervous.
“Absolutely not. It feels good to laugh about it. To recognize it.”
Lin smiled, “I’ll see you tomorrow at the show?”
“In a dress,” you returned.
“Goodnight,” he said, lingering.
“Goodnight, Lin,” you said. You waited a moment before handing up the phone. You fell asleep smiling that night.
You spent an hour picking out a dress. An hour. Even then, you settled on a simple low cut red dress - it wasn’t even that excessive! Still, you curled your hair and did your makeup, giving yourself ample time to get to the theater.
The show started at seven and you arrived around 6:30. A few people noticed who you were, a pair of teenage girls even asked if you were planning on writing more.
“I’m working on something right now, actually,” you smiled, playing the tease you knew you were.
Their eyes lit up as they begged for details. You laughed as you shook your head, “Sorry! You’ll just have to wait.”
After snapping a photo with them, you found your seat, still clutching your playbill. You flipped through the book, a paper falling out with the cast list on it. The cast changed frequently, so they used scrap paper instead of printing the bios and photos of the new actors. Your heart leapt when you saw Lin’s name across the dotted line of Alexander Hamilton.
The lights dimmed and the show began, the beat instantly pulling you in. You had no idea what you were in for, but boy, did you love it.
You weren’t sure what to do at the end of the show to be completely honest. After the final bow, you were overwhelmed to say the least. Sure, you had written a book. But that? Hamilton? They just made magic onstage.
You waited a few minutes before deciding to text him. What was he thinking? What were you thinking? You had absolutely no idea where to go or who to talk to. Before you could get your phone out of your bag, however, an usher had placed a hand on your arm.
“Miss L/N?” He smiled. When you nodded, he continued, “Mr. Miranda asked that I invite you backstage.”
A smile rushed your face as you followed him towards a back door, still gripping your playbill as if your life depended on it.
The guy who had played Hercules Mulligan was waiting for you behind the door. Thanking the usher, he pulled you back into the dark hallways with a grin so big it filled his face. He hugged you, making you jump for a moment before accepting the gesture and returning it quickly.
“I’m Oak, I love your book.” He said as he pulled away.
“I loved your performance,” you smiled, feeling awestruck.
He laughed but was abruptly shoved away, “Oh my gosh,” the girl behind him said.
“Jas, this is Y/N,” Oak introduced.
A curly head bobbed over, instantly hugging you, “You are one of my biggest inspirations.”
You took in a breath, softly thanking her before hugging her back. When you pulled away, you squinted before asking, “You’re Jasmine, right?”
She nodded quickly, slightly slapping Oak on the chest before turning and whispering, “She knows who I am.” Suddenly, Jasmine was pulled away from you to reveal a dressed down Lin. He had on some sweats and a black Hamilton tee. The sight of him made your heart skip. Who the hell looked that good in sweats? He was unreal.
He puffed up his cheeks before slowly breathing out.
“Hi,” you said.
Lin shook his head slightly before offering a hand and leading you away. Gratefully, you accepted. His hand left yours, resting on the small of your back, flooding your body with fire; making you burn.
His lips trailed to your ear, slowly breathing out, “You look incredible.” Electricity traveled down your spine as his words hit you.
You tried to push your smile down, but his hand fit perfectly and his hair was messy but he was so damn hot and you couldn’t help it.
“Only one person to dress for,” you quipped, moving a little closer to him, as if there was any room between you. He let out a soft groan, moving you more curtly to his dressing room.
He took a deep breath when he got into the room, as if to calm himself down. Lin pulled you to the couch, sitting much closer than two friends would.
“So what did you think?” He asked, nudging your shoulder, “Was your sister right?”
You let out a laugh before you nodded, “For the first time in her life.” You turned to face him. His grin made it’s way to his eyes, “You are ridiculously talented,” you said, still starstruck.
“Then I won’t let you see Javi play Hamilton. You might like him more than me,” he laughed. His laugh was breezy, like the conversation wasn’t filled with heat.
“Who says I like you?” You said, your brows furrowed, a teasing tone making its way off your lips.
“That dress,” he said quickly, easily. You let out small gasp, rarely allowing yourself to flirt so liberally. Speechless, you shook your head with a smile on your lips. He played off of this, taking your hand in his. “But seriously, you liked it?” He asked, turning the subject.
You nodded instantly, “It… was the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
He rolled his eyes, “That’s exaggerating.”
“Maybe, but it was still amazing.” You shrugged.
He was closer than he was before. When did he get so close?
“You’re amazing,” he tried.
You crinkled your nose, “Cheesy.”
He giggled, placing his other hand on your cheek before touching his lips to yours. Melting immediately, your hands found his neck and you pulled him closer. His hands dropped back to your hips as his lips molded yours. Your lips parted as his kisses got longer, hotter. You sighed into him, tugging his hair lightly when he nipped your bottom lip. The fire in your chest had traveled to every part of your body and you had never felt so good.
“Dude! Why didn’t you tell me Y/N was here - oh shit!” Someone yelled, barging into the dressing room and causing you two to pull apart. Accidentally, you smacked Lin in the face as you jumped back to the end of the couch.
“Shit,” you both groaned, you in embarrassment, him in pain. Reaching towards him, your placed your hand back to his jaw where it had previously been in much different context.
He laughed lightly, “I’m okay,” he assured you. Your eyes were still worried so he leaned forward and pecked your lips once more, making you smile.
A curly haired boy walked in sheepishly alongside Jasmine. Lin laughed, flopping back on the couch. “Go figure.” He laughed.
The boy furrowed his brows, letting out a slight huff.
Throwing a hand up, he introduced you, “Anthony, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Anthony.”
You offered a small wave, your blush undeniable. Quickly, Jasmine broke the tension with a laugh, “You couldn’t even lock the door, Lin?”
Lin face palmed, slapping a hand over his eyes. You looked down, trying not to giggle (and failing). Maybe it was the way Jasmine leaned so easily against the counter, like this was something enjoyable for her to see, or maybe the way Lin had kept one hand around your waist during the entire affair, but you weren’t nearly as embarrassed as you should be.
“We’re going to get some pizza if you want to come,” Anthony said, scratching the back of his neck.
Jasmine was quick to kid, just like Lin, “Unless you guys are preoccupied.”
Lin groaned, standing up and ushering out the door, mumbling something in Spanish before turning back to you, “I am so sorry.”
You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it. I love your cast.”
He was back to the couch, sitting just as close as he had before. “Oh yeah?” He grinned, giving you no time to respond before his lips were back on yours.