#why does no place sell regular earbuds anymore

[toastysol]

Remember when you used to be able to charge your phone and listen to music on earbuds at the same time? Yeah, I miss that

[today-we-will-survive]

Our Infinite Summer

made by me

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. OT6)

Genre: summer romance, fluff, some angst

Warnings: none

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: @dimpled-gukkie asked for a summer “cuddling with JK” fic and...well...it turned into this. Also, I listened to Jungkook’s 2U, Nothing Like Us, Paper Hearts, Purpose and We Don’t Talk Anymore covers while I wrote this fic.

Spending the summer months at your family’s lake-house has been something you’ve looked forward to ever since you could remember. It’s always the highlight of the year, leaving everything that’s so familiar to you, everything so mundane, and getting away to the small house with its old, kind of rickety dock that juts out into the dark greenish colored water. You’ve spent many summer days sitting on the edge of that dock, earbuds filling your ears with whatever artist you were currently into, scribbling in your notebook, feet dangling in the chilly water while the sun kept you warm. This lake has always been a popular vacation spot so even when you were the sole occupant of the dock, there were people swimming and splashing, riding on jet skis and inner tubes, zipping past in speedboats, cups of beer raised to anyone that would wave back. You aren’t usually alone though.

*

*

You met Jungkook the summer after you turned twelve. You were sitting on your dock on your first day there, listening to music and writing—surprise, surprise—when a jet ski flew by a little too close to the shore carrying a swell rapidly toward you and causing the water to rise significantly enough to seep up through the cracks between the boards and dampen your shorts. You’d jumped up in surprise, notebook slipping off your lap and dumping into the lake in front of you. You’d stared at it as it floated just barely below the surface and watched the ink of your written words begin to bleed. Retrieving the soggy notebook was futile, even as you held onto the edge of one of the boards and stretched your foot out as far as you could, you only managed to nudge it with your toe, causing it to drift further and sink a little lower. Your stomach dropped, feeling heavy and cold like a wet rock as you sat and watched it float away from you.

You were too wrapped up in your misery, you didn’t even hear the soft sputtering of the jet ski motor until it came into your line of sight, a lanky arm reaching down into the water to scoop up your waterlogged notebook. Only then did you lift your eyes to look at the boy responsible for making you drop it, then saving it again. His dark hair stuck out every which way in wet spikes and his nose was a bit too big for his boyish face but he was cute and you would have even felt a little shy if you weren’t so annoyed with him. As he handed the notebook back to you, you didn’t know whether to thank him for retrieving it, or chew him out for being so careless in the first place.

You decided to act coldly toward him, snatching it out of his hand and clutching it to your chest as you glared at him, trying to ignore the fact that the front of your shirt was currently acting like a sponge and soaking up more cold water with every second, causing goosebumps to break out across your skin. You held your glare though, locked onto this boy’s wide doe eyes.

“Uh…sorry about your notebook,” he said awkwardly diverting his attention when you jutted your chin out. “I’ll just…go then.”

You still didn’t say anything even when he used his foot to push himself away from your dock and then started the motor back up, keeping it low until he was far enough away from you to keep from getting you wet. Finally, when he was several feet away, he twisted the throttle and the jet ski kicked forward in a spray of water. Only when he was far away, did you pull the notebook from your chest and look down in dismay at the giant wet spot that had been growing beneath it.

That was your first encounter with Jeon Jungkook. Your second was later that evening when your parents decided to be buddy buddy with the neighbors and invite them over for a BBQ. Low and behold, when you stepped out onto the deck, a plate of sliced tomatoes, pickles and onions balanced on your palms, your eyes fell on the familiar boy as he trailed behind a set of adults decked out in some pretty outdated summer clothing that could really only be rivaled by the outlandish garb your parents always drag out of the attic once the temperature begins to soar and were now wearing.

“You’re kidding me,” you’d uttered when his eyes landed on yours and immediately went wide.

The rest of the night, the two of you didn’t say much to each other, and not without both sets of parents trying to get you to interact and play nice. As if you could become friends with a boy that had such a huge disregard for another person and their personal belongings.

Your parents seemed to hit it off though, already planning outings together and who was going to host dinners on what nights. It was obvious to you that Jungkook was going to become a regular part of at least that summer. Little did you know, he would become a familiarity in your life every summer after that since his family just happened to own the house next to yours. Even though the friendship didn’t start out the smoothest, over the years, he became another thing you looked forward to every year. He became your best friend, if only for a couple months, and then you had to leave him behind again. As if the lake house weren’t already a different enough world from your own, now there was an inhabitant in this different world that made it all the richer.

*

*

It was always a bit surreal returning to the lake house every summer, the beginning of the season punctuated by the slamming of the car door and then the crunch of the gravel under your sneakers as you make your way up the driveway, backpack slung over one shoulder. The lake was always shining, water rippling in the breeze, kids already swimming and goofing off. It was always the same.

The first evening of the start of your summer at the lake house was always the same too. You’d wait until sunset, having spent all day helping your parents unpack groceries, stock the fridge and the cupboards, put your clothes away, everything that had to be done before you could start vacationing, and then you’d make your way across your backyard that gradually sloped down to the dock, and there at the end, feet dangling over the edge, you’d wait. It was never a long wait, but during that time you’d look out at the water and try to imagine how much he’d changed in the last year.

It’s always weird seeing him initially. A year can do a lot to a person. Especially a teenage boy. You’d seen him grow taller, broader, witnessed his voice change, his style, his laugh, his jokes. Every year you were always startled by how different he looked, but then he’d smile and you’d see glimpses of the twelve year old you met so many summers ago.

*

*

At the end of last year, he’d broken the news to you that his parents, now retired, had bought an RV and were going to spend the rest of their days traveling around the country, which meant they wouldn’t be returning the following summer to their lake house. You’d felt your heart sink into your stomach, your shoulders sagging, your teeth raking over your bottom lip as you tried to keep your tears back.

“What about you?” you’d asked him, meeting his eyes through blurred vision, his face a shimmering gold in the glow of the setting sun.

Jungkook had shuffled closer to you on the dock, his hands digging holes into his pockets as he looked down at his feet. Your friendship had definitely changed over the years. Each summer bringing you two a little closer. “I don’t know,” he’d said. “I’m heading off to college next week and my parents are selling the house and—”

“And the lake house?” you’d interrupted.

“They’re gonna start renting it out.”

“Oh.” Then you’d looked out at the water and brought your arms up to wrap around your torso. “Why’d you wait until now to tell me?” you asked. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner that this would probably be the last summer I’d get to spend with you?”

Jungkook had sucked in a sharp breath. Neither of you had ever outright expressed your feelings for each other, but they were pretty obvious. You’d noticed the way his hugs would linger, when his fingers would brush yours as the two of you would walk together to the small minute mart a mile away, or how his eyes would sometimes dart down to your lips when you were talking. You never said anything, afraid that things would become awkward between the two of you. Besides, you liked the way everything was seeming to progress naturally, unhurried by any sort of slip of the tongue. You thought you had more summers with him. But apparently not.

“I’m sorry,” he’d said and you’d finally turned back to look at him again, your heart sinking further when you saw the regret reflected in his dark brown eyes. “I didn’t want you to be sad all summer. Especially not if it was going to be the last one I got with you,” he said and stepped closer.

“But Jungkook, if I’d known,” you said then hesitated. If you’d known, then what? You would have told him how you felt? Would that have just made things worse?

He looked down at you intently his thick brows knitting together. “What?” he asked. “What would have happened if you’d known?”

You looked down at your feet, tightening your grip on your middle in hopes of containing your heart that was currently ramming itself against your ribs like a wild animal trying to bust out of its cage. “I would’ve…” you took a deep breath, “never mind.”

Then you felt a finger under your chin and you sighed as Jungkook guided your head back up with his hand. His eyes moved back and forth between your own, as if your feelings were written across your irises. You didn’t need to tell him, and he didn’t need to tell you. You both knew.

You’d watched with a racing heart as he’d leaned in, keeping your chin held between his thumb and finger, until his mouth sealed against yours, the warm weight of his lips such a new and different sensation that heat bloomed under your skin, your thoughts dissolved and nothing else mattered in the world except for this boy and kissing him. And then, like the summer, it was over too soon and he was walking back up the dock, leaving you to watch the back of him and wishing it wasn’t for the last time.

*

*

This year the sound of the car door shutting, the sound of your feet crunching on the gravel, the sound of people already out enjoying the water doesn’t fill you with the same excitement. Instead of bounding toward the house with a spring in your step, you turn, looking over your shoulder at the house next door, a heavy feeling settling in your stomach at the knowledge that it’s empty, and even if it weren’t, he wouldn’t be there.

You’ve gone through the familiar motions of putting things away and getting your room set up. Now you’re on the end of the dock, though this time without the headphones and notebook. You’re just laying there with your eyes closed, trying to figure out what the heck you’re going to do all summer without Jungkook to keep you company.

You feel rather than hear the rumble of a jet ski, the vibrations growing stronger as it draws closer. Even as it does, you don’t open your eyes, letting the warmth from the sun seep into your skin and keep you distracted from the fact that you feel so lonely. But then the rumble cuts out abruptly and you gasp when you feel the lake water climb up your legs and soak the rolled up hem of your jeans. You jerk up ready to chew out the person but the bitter words fall to the ground unsaid as you gape open-mouthed at the boy sitting atop the jet ski smirking back at you.

His hair sticks out in dark, wet spikes and his eyes glitter with mischief and he’s sucked in a breath, surely to make some teasing quip but before he can, you leap from the edge of the dock, clearing the couple of feet between the two of you and nearly knocking him off the jet ski when you crash into him. Your bodies connect in a tight hug just a moment before your lips meet.

His large hands squeeze your waist, his big arms pulling you tighter against him where you’re sandwiched between him and the handlebars. This would feel like a dream if not for the cold, wet reality of his skin against your own. You haven’t said a word to each other but you feel like you don’t need to. Still, when the two of you finally pull away, you feel like it’s going to take forever to breathe normally again. There’s still so much you feel you need to say to him.

“Are you really here?” you whisper as you touch your forehead to his and trace the faint scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. The scar you accidentally gave him the summer after you turned fourteen.

Jungkook lets out a small laugh. “I think so. Or else this is a really vivid dream. And that would suck.”

“Yeah it would,” you laugh. It all just feels surreal. Especially since you thought you’d never see him again. This summer was going to be a lonely one. One where you’d spend your time writing and missing Jungkook. But now, here he is under your fingertips, skin golden and glistening, cold with the underlying warmth of his blood pumping through his veins with every thrumming heartbeat, arms stronger, thicker than they were even last year.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” you say.

Jungkook reaches up to tuck a strand of your hair back behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. “Well, I told you my parents were renting the lake house out, right?”

You nod.

“I’m kind of gonna be the renter.”

“Just you by yourself?” you ask.

“Well, not exac—”

He’s cut off by the sounds of whoops and hollers and the growling of several more jet skis and you twist around in front of Jungkook to see three more coming around the bend, each with two guys sitting atop them.

“Who are they?” you ask curiously.

“Guys from my frat.”

Now you turn back around again and smile. “Jeon Jungkook is a frat boy? Who would have thought the lanky little twelve year old would turn into this?”

“Have I changed too much?” he asks scrunching up his nose.

You let a hand trail down his neck, across the broad planes of his bare chest and then over to curl around one bicep. “You’re still the same brat,” you say. “You just look a little different.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot.”

“Good different?”

“Definitely.”

With a smile, he leans back in, his hands cupping your face. Your eyelids flutter shut just as you feel his lips brush yours and then you’re jerking away with a gasp when a spray of cold water hits your back.

“JK! What’s up with just leaving us all behind like that? Namjoon couldn’t get his jet ski to start and you’re—”

You’ve twisted around again, stare settling on the boy responsible for interrupting you and when he sees you, his eyes widen.

“Oh hi,” he chokes out.

The one sitting behind him swats his arm playfully. “Way to ruin the moment, hyung,” he scolds shaking his honey brown head. “Jungkookie, when were you planning on introducing us all to your friend?”

You feel Jungkook’s arms wrap around you possessively and you can’t help the way your chest swells with pride. “Uh, well, that’s Taehyung and Hobi-hyung,” he says to you then tells them your name and you give them a shy wave.

Just then the other two jet skis reach you, carrying the other four boys and Jungkook introduces the rest of them to you as well, each beautiful and built like him, causing heat to flood your cheeks. It’s all a little overwhelming actually. So much has happened in just the past ten minutes and your head is swimming and it’s all too much. You find yourself beginning to have a bit of trouble breathing and you swat at Jungkook’s arms to get him to release you before you get to your feet and climb back up onto the dock.

You hear him say your name and ask if you’re alright and you can only nod as you make your way back down the worn wood planks toward the house. Behind you, the purring of his jet ski cuts out, and he asks the others to give him a minute. You don’t look back but you hear the others leave, the sounds of their own jet skis growing fainter the farther away they get.

“Hey,” Jungkook says from just behind you and you feel his hand wrap around your wrist. You let him spin you back around to face him, and when you do, your heart skips a beat.

You don’t even know what to say, really. Just the sight of him renders you speechless. This boy that you’ve spent every summer with since you were twelve, the boy you developed feelings for, told secrets to, spent so many warm nights laying with on the dock and looking up at the stars. Went swimming and jet skiing and walking with. Had bonfires and BBQs with. The boy you looked forward to seeing every year and felt heartbroken over when you had to say goodbye, the one that you thought you’d never see again. He’s standing here in front of you, hair mussed and damp, eyes starry and filled with concern for you. He’s here. And you were prepared for him to not be.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say. “I just…this is all a lot to take in.”

Jungkook nods and steps closer, his hand reaching for yours so he can bring them up to hold between you. “I know. I should’ve texted you or something. I should’ve let you know I was coming and that I was bringing the guys too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Jungkook?” you ask. “I came here fully expecting to spend the summer alone. I haven’t heard from you in a year.”

“I wasn’t really planning on coming back,” he says bringing the hand that isn’t entangled in yours up to rub at the back of his neck.

“What changed your mind?”

“I went on a date last week.”

The confession makes the air rush out of your lungs too quickly and your fingers loosen from his. He squeezes tighter though, not wanting to let you go. You’ve gone on a couple dates since last summer as well but not in a while. You’d never really been able to get him or his goodbye kiss out of your head.

“I don’t understand what that has to do with me,” you mutter shaking your head.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he says. “I’ve dated a few girls but like I’d go and hang out and I just didn’t want to be with any of them. And I know that sounds stupid, especially since things ended so...weird last year and, I mean, it’s been a year, and I feel stupid that I was having such a hard time moving on,” he’s rambling by this point. “And all I wanted to do was text you but I didn’t think you wanted to talk to me. And then summer started getting closer and I don’t know, it just made everything worse cuz I knew I wasn’t going to be able to see you and then I went on this date last week and the whole time I just wanted her to be you and I needed to see you and…” his voice finally trails off when he notices you just staring at him. “What?”

How can you tell him that you’ve been feeling the exact same way all year? That you’ve tried moving on but you just couldn’t? Not when you knew the person you wanted most was out there.

“Why would you think I didn’t want to talk to you?” you finally ask him.

Jungkook shrugs sadly. “I don’t know. I thought you were mad after what I did last year.”

“You mean when you waited till the last day to tell me you weren’t coming back and then kissed me and just left without ever actually saying goodbye?”

“Yeah that,” he utters. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know this doesn’t make up for what I did but, in the moment, I couldn’t think of doing anything else. If that was going to be the last time I ever saw you, I guess I just needed to know what it would be like.”

“Well, was it worth it?” you ask him.

Jungkook bites his lip and lets out a heavy sigh. “It was all I could think about for weeks,” he finally says. “And I felt so guilty knowing that was the last time I’d get to see you.” Then he looks at you again. “And then I got busy and the guilt kinda went away but never really completely. And then in the last few weeks it came back stronger.”

“So you showed up because you were feeling guilty?”

“No, no,” Jungkook says quickly. “I had to see you again. And I don’t want to spend the whole summer with you and then leave again.”

Your heart starts to race now. “What do you mean?” you ask him.

The breeze has picked up, sending tendrils of your hair whispering across your skin and you watch Jungkook reach up to brush it away from your face.

“I can’t do that, Y/N,” he says. “I want what we have to continue past summer. I know we go to different colleges but they really aren’t that far apart and…I mean, I want this if you do.”

“I don’t know, Jungkook,” you say. “Maybe I should just kiss you and leave and see how that makes you feel.”

The boy looks down at his feet. “Yeah, I deserve that.”

“No you don’t,” you say and he lifts his head again. “A kick in the shin maybe, but I won’t do that either.”

Now Jungkook’s mouth spreads into the shy bunny grin you fell in love with years ago and his arm wraps around your waist to pull you closer. Your own hands clasp around his neck and you pull him down to you. You can’t help getting lost in him. Your kiss earlier was so fevered, your thoughts such a mess you couldn’t really savor it, but now you notice that he smells like lake water and sunscreen and tastes like strawberry lip balm and you find that you never want the moment to end. But of course, it has to and at last you pull away.

“Alright, so should I just walk away now, or…?”

Jungkook pinches your side eliciting a squeal and he burrows his nose into your neck. “You brat,” he growls before looking at you again. “For real, though, do you forgive me? For everything that happened?”

You reach up to cup his face in your hands and you can’t help but smile at the way his doe eyes and pouty mouth turns down in the corners. “Yeah,” you say and he smiles back at you, nuzzling his cheek against your palm. “And uh…you should probably get back to your friends. Don’t want them to think you abandoned them for some girl.”

Jungkook wraps his arms around you tighter, lifting you into the air and spinning you around until your laughter echoes across the lake. Then he puts you down again and presses a kiss to your nose. “You’re not just some girl. I’ll be back later, I promise.”

“I believe you,” you say with a giggle and then watch him jog back down the dock and get onto his jet ski. He looks at you one more time, flashing that bright smile and causing your heart to soar before starting the motor back up and speeding in the direction his friends went. You watch until he disappears around the bend, your fingers touching your lips as if you can still feel his there.

*

*

It’s been so hot today, the sun beating down on you, reflecting off the rippling water and tinging your skin pink as you found relief in it’s cool depths. The air here always smells like the trees surrounding the lake, campfire smoke and the scent of old, wet wood and algae. It’s a smell you’ve come to miss during the rest of the year when you aren’t here.

You’ve spent the last day at the lake house swimming with Jungkook and his friends and now you sprawl out on the dock, the old, worn wood, smooth against your bare back as you lay with your face to the sun, letting it dry your hair and evaporate the droplets on your skin. Laughter fills the air around you, the underlying sound of speedboats and faint music from houses across the lake a constant in a place like this.

Just then you feel an icy hand wrap around your ankle where it dangles over the edge of the dock and you immediately sit up and lock eyes with a mischievous Jungkook.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask narrowing your eyes at him.

He quirks his brows. “Oh nothing,” he says innocently. “Just thought you looked a little too dry up there.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“Not if you ever want me to kiss you again.”

Immediately his fingers loosen from around your ankle. “You drive a hard bargain,” he says shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Just then Seokjin seems to materialize beside him and he grabs your foot. “Nothing I can’t live without,” he yells and you have barely enough time to let out a squeal before you plunge back into the lake. When you emerge again, the other boys have dissolved into fits of laughter, including Jungkook. The laughter is infectious and you can’t help but join them, but only after sending a wall of water right in Seokjin’s face.

You’ve grown so close to these boys over the summer, spending every day with them, swimming, riding jet skis, listening to music and just chilling on the dock. It’s sad you have to leave them tomorrow but you know you’ll see them again. Especially now that you and Jungkook have promised to see each other as often as you can. This summer has gone so differently than you expected it to. Instead of spending it wallowing by yourself, you’ve gained a new group of friends that you could never imagine going the rest of your life without. Not only them, but more importantly, you have Jungkook back in your life where he belongs.

*

*

The day drags into the night until it’s so late that no one else is out and all the windows of the houses surrounding the lake have gone dark. Your parents went to bed hours ago and now the eight of you lay on the dock, you sandwiched between Namjoon and Jungkook as you all just stare up at the stars. Whispered conversations start up every so often but you’re all exhausted so they always die down again into silence. You’ve almost drifted off a few times now, the closeness of both Namjoon’s and Jungkook’s bodies keeping you warm even though the air has grown chilly with the setting of the sun. The sounds of the water lapping against the dock and the low voices of the others have caused your eyelids to grow heavy, yet any time you feel yourself slipping, you give your head a sharp shake to bring yourself back. You don’t want the summer to end. Sure, you’ll see the guys every so often when you go to visit Jungkook at his school, but you’ve loved being able to hang out every day. You love how goofy they are and how quickly they welcomed you into their circle—even with their first encounter with you being a bit dramatic. You love how sweet Jimin and Taehyung are. How playful Seokjin is. How calm and laid back Yoongi and Hoseok are and how they all seem to look up to Namjoon as the big brother even though he isn’t the oldest.

In fact, seeing these guys interact just makes you feel proud. Sure, you haven’t known them for long, but to know that these boys are out there in the world, proving that frat boys aren’t all just selfish horn dogs that seem to only ever want to get drunk or get laid gives you hope. And it makes you that much more excited to see them again.

The exhaustion has seemed to finally win out when Yoongi, having already been caught snoring several times, sits up and stretches with a loud groan.

“Alright,” he utters, his voice deep with tiredness. “I don’t really feel like sleeping all night on a dock, so I’m heading back to the house. Anyone else coming with me?”

You hear a chorus of groggy “yeahs” and then your chest floods with disappointment as the others’ shadowed forms start making their way down the dock. Namjoon utters a goodnight to you and Jungkook before stumbling after the rest of them and you sit up too just so you can see them go. When the six have disappeared over the crest of the hill in your backyard, you let out a huff and slump onto your back again beside Jungkook.

“What time is it?” he asks rubbing his eyes sleepily.

You shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to know how little time I have left of this.”

You hear Jungkook rustle beside you and then his darkened face enters your line of sight. “We’re not leaving till tomorrow afternoon,” he assures you. “We still have time.”

“Not much,” you mutter.

Jungkook looks down at you for a while longer and you stare back. Without his and Namjoon’s body heat soaking into either side of you, goosebumps have formed on your skin and you’re beginning to shiver. After another beat, Jungkook gets to his feet and holds out a hand. “Come on,” he says. “You’re cold.”

“Don’t care,” you say crossing your arms stubbornly.

Jungkook chuckles. “Come on, Y/N. I have an idea.”

Too curious to help yourself, you reach out and let him pull you up. Then he doesn’t let go as he leads you down the dock and up toward your house.

“What, you gonna tuck me in before going back?” you ask teasingly.

“Not quite,” he says then pushes the slider open and pulls you inside. Even in the darkness, you can see perfectly as he navigates the two of you to the couch and then falls down on it. “Come here,” he says.

With a sleepy smile, you sink down onto the soft cushions and lay down, letting Jungkook envelope you in his strong arms and pull you against his chest. He’s warm through the thin material of his t-shirt and you press your nose to his chest and breathe him in. Still the faint smell of lake water and sunscreen lingers but besides that is an underlying scent, something musky and comforting and very much him. A scent you could get used to.

His chin rests on top of your head and his throat vibrates against your cheek as his soft humming fills the silence. Your eyelids are already heavy and the way his fingers trace designs on your back just makes them slide closed.

“I love you,” you utter, your words so quiet that you think maybe he didn’t hear them. But then the humming ceases and the tracing on your back stops, his palm now laying flat against your spine. Then he’s hugging you tighter as if he’s afraid if he lets go, everything will vanish like waking from a dream.

“I love you too,” he says at last.

You feel your mouth curl into a smile against his skin and then you nuzzle further into his arms and with the comfort of knowing that he feels the same way you do and that he isn’t going anywhere, let sleep finally take you under.

[ariesfm-blog]

            hi ! my name is link ! i go by he / they pronouns , am 21+ & live in the cst timezone ! i’m an obnoxious aries & this is my idiot , max , who also happens to be an obnoxious aries because i believe in writing what i know JHGKFDLHLF . i’m really excited to be here , because plotless slice of life rps are my thing & i’m excited to get to know all of you & write with you !!! under the cut you’ll find misc. info & some wanted connections , but here are links to his stats page & his pinterest board , which hopefully will give you some extra insight . feel free to like this if you’d like to plot .but if you wanna plot on d*scord ( which is easier for me ) you can add me @ demogorgon ramsay#0039 !

( johnny seo, cismale, he/him ) who is that ? oh, it’s just MAXWELL “MAX” BAE the TWENTY-FOUR year old has been in beauhart for HIS WHOLE LIFE and is currently a BARTENDER. i’ve heard they can be CONFIDENT and HONEST, but also IMPATIENT and BRASH. maybe that’s why their anthem is SANCTUARY by JOJI and CAFFEINE JITTERS, DIRTY CONVERSE PAIRED WITH ALIEN SOCKS, PHONE NUMBERS WRITTEN ON NAPKINS makes me think of them.

misc. info : ( cw : mentions of death & drug use )

his mother died giving birth to him. though he doesn’t remember her ( obviously ) he still holds a bit of guilt & think it’s his fault that she died. but his dad is always quick to snuff that line of thought & holds absolutely no ill will towards max about it

all he’s ever heard is good things about her so he loves her or the idea of her really. he likes to imagine himself in the stories people tell him about her & it’s a comfort to him. it makes him feel like he kind of grew up with her even though he never got to meet her

his dad is a sweet person. full of laughs & kindness. also bad jokes ( this is where max gets his own humor from ). he’s the kind of dad that people wish for. he’s always been supportive of max no matter what & he listens to him whenever he needs it

when they were little they played catch & watched yu-gi-oh together. max still has all his yu-gi-oh cards stuffed in his closet somewhere. now they’re more likely to sit on his dad’s front porch & drink together while listening to music

his dad has never dated or remarried after his wife died because that was his soulmate & he doesn’t want to settle for anyone else & his dad has always told max to find that one person for him

max was miserable in school. he wasn’t good at it & none of it made any sense to him. so he struggled in graduating high school. & he tried college but he couldn’t stand it so he dropped out thankfully with no negative feedback from his dad

he’s kind of anxious & fidgety so it’s hard for him to pay attention ( anxiety & adhd nation make some noise !!! ) but if he gets focused on a project he’ll ignore his need to eat or anything else to work on it

he picked up making drinks from his dad at a young age ( imagine a twelve year old making cocktails that’s basically how it was ) & is really good at it so naturally he became a bartender. it’s not his dream job per se but he enjoys it a lot & makes good tips from it so he has no complaints about it

basically he’s pretty happy-go-lucky but he’s also an idiot & annoying about it. he can seem friendly enough at first but once you get close to him he’ll turn up that aries personality & get on your nerves ( but he’s also like a leech & will stick to you )

he’s really into aliens. he even has a ufo tattoo ! he will fight with anyone who doesn’t believe in them ( or cryptids or the supernatural in general ). the x-files is his favorite show & he wishes to be fox mulder every day of his life. he’s also a diehard boogara

he’s a big conspiracy theorist. he believes in lizard people, the illuminati & that queen elizabeth is a cannibal & that’s how she’s stayed alive for so long. he’s very paranoid about stuff. he’s one of those people who read the terms & conditions on everything so that he doesn’t agree to some company stealing his dna & selling it on the dark web. he also refuses to pick up the phone because he thinks the government is listening in on them ( he only makes calls when he’s high & out of it )

& he loves true crime. he’s always listening to true crime podcasts & watching true crime docs

he loves energy drinks & coffee. he drinks them so much that he’s shaking about 75% of the day but he never listens when people tell him he’s gonna get a heart attack

he’s messy. his apartment is messy. his hair is messy. his entire energy is just messy. but he thinks his personality makes up for it

he can kinda cook but honestly he’s lazy & just prefers to order in food 95% of the time. also he has a bad habit of forgetting stuff like he’ll turn the oven on then get distracted then wonder what the weird smell in his place is

for the most part he’s nice but he does participate in “friendly” dragging. if you’re friends he will clown you & sometimes he can hurt someone’s feelings even when he doesn’t mean to ( more than likely he will not apologize for it he’ll just ignore it til the other person gets over it hopefully )

always losing his headphones. he settles for those crappy $5 earbuds that you find at dollar stores so he won’t feel bad for losing them anymore. honestly he loses everything. who knows how many sets of keys he’s gone through

he’s super clumsy. always tripping, always running into stuff. he’s broken a million glasses at the bar

he’s pretty flirty, pretty charming. he uses it to his advantage at the bar, draws in customers in order to get tips & phone numbers

he’s a soft thot. he’s easy to sleep with but he’s kind & caring about all his partners

he’s a really good boyfriend & he falls in love easily,  but he’s forgetful & accidentally negligent sometimes. like he’ll go days without responding to texts or checking up on people. he doesn’t mean to he just does

he loves pins, patches & colorful socks. everything he wears is covered in them. most of the things he wears aren’t even related to his interests because people just give them random things & he wears them anyway

he can never open jars his beefy arms are useless

a fan of punny humor. he’s the king of dad jokes

he’s that person who puts his legs up on the dash of the car or hangs them out the window

wishes he knew how to skateboard but doesn’t even know how to ride a bike

takes in random cats & dogs he finds on the street. sometimes he tries to find their owners & sometimes he doesn’t but it’s fine

he’s addicted to those edited audios that are like “( song ) but you’re listening to it in the bathroom at a party & you’re crying because you’re alone” & he’s obsessed with joji so of course those are his favorite 

he’s one of those pansexuals who call themselves gay constantly 

uses uwu in texts to be ironic & annoying. most of his words have w replacing certain letters to sound like a smol

he gets stoned at like three am & tries to call people & ask them stupid high people questions like “if two vegans fight is it still called beef”

he’s also never left beauheart or gone too far away. just a few cities at most. he has a bit of a stoner paranoia about it. like if he leaves the state something bad will happen to him or his dad or loved ones

he’s terrified of horror movies. especially ones with clowns. he refuses to watch them because he’s convinced that he’ll accidentally summon a demon or a ghost through osmosis or something JHGDLFKGHD

wanted connections :

rooommates ( one or two )

exes ( any gender. it can be messy or friendly. i’m willing to have max be the issue though with him it’ll always be baby issues since he’s nice & a tryhard JGHKFDHFKGFD )

hookups / fwbs ( any gender. singular experiences or regular type things )

childhood plots for those who’ve lived in beauheart ( childhood friends, first kisses / crushes, all that good stuff )

high school sweethearts

flirtationships that don’t go anywhere

one-sided crushes ( don’t mind who has the feelings ! )

mutual pining but they’re both idiots & have no idea

party buddies. conspiracy theory buddies. true crime buddies. any of these can be combined

tinder date ( it can go well or not )

frequent customers ( better yet, frequent customers that he flirts with. give me the cliche phone number on napkins plot)

maybe you don’t tip him for whatever reason & he’s had a bad day & he’s like “bro wtf”

teach him how to ride a bike KJFDHSLGJF

maybe you try to get him to leave beauheart & you have to deal with his crybaby ramblings about how something bad will happen

beef with him over the existence of supernatural things

be the person he calls at three am after eating too many edibles & deal with his stoned questions

try to make him watch a horror movie

for someone newer to town: be that person who makes a “your mom” joke & have to deal with that awkward “my mom’s dead” conversation

maybe he “accidentally” stole your cat or dog & you try to get it back but he doesn’t believe that it’s yours even though you clearly have proof

maybe you’re the person who always ends up finding the stuff he loses & you’re stuck in this constant act of returning & you’re tired of it

literally anything you can think of i’m probably down for it

[blame-canada]

I Think - Crenny

Kenny is just starting to tiptoe into the realm of boyfriend terminology with Craig when he gives him a gift he could never repay him for. The way to Kenny's heart is his family, after all, and with the way he's gotten to see all their smiles so brightly this Christmas Eve, he's about ready to pop the question. He thinks, though, he thinks.

Hello everyone! I was given the opportunity to post the Secret Santa gift fic that I wrote for @kotaii-san! It’s some Christmas Eve fluff, just in time for Christmas Eve. It’s a bit long to be posting on Tumblr, but I guess that’s what cuts are for, haha. I hope you enjoy. :) Read it on AO3 here!

“I don’t mean to be a bratty teenager, but this sucks.”

The words hurt Kenny more than he wants to let on. At thirteen, Karen has had her fair share of pubescent girl meltdowns, and Kenny’s cleaned up the aftermath more times than he can count. In Kevin’s defense, he’s helped too, but the older he’s gotten, the more detached he’s become. His mother tries, sometimes, but more often than not she gets so overwhelmed so quickly that before Karen’s even done screaming, she’s reaching for the nearest illicit drug. It’s frustrating, but it’s life, he supposes, and Kenny sometimes wonders if in a different world he could have been dealt a better hand. It’s not worth the trouble to dwell on it now though, because the three of them are busy sitting huddled in the center of the living room, touching shoulders for warmth because the heat is at a bare minimum, and finding patterns in the stains on the carpet with their mouths shut and their fingers curled around small hands of cards.

“It’s not your fault,” she adds on, because apparently he hadn’t hid his disappointment well enough to keep it a secret and she reads him like a book anyway. “You do your best. It just kinda sucks.”

Kevin shivers while he nods, and the guilt in the pit of Kenny’s stomach weighs him to the floor so that he sinks further into the circle they’ve made, nearly touches noses with the discard pile. Sometimes in December he dreams of Stan’s house, or even Cartman’s, where it’s warm and there are soft lights and candles everywhere and pine needles wrapped around the banisters and fallen on the tree skirt that adorns the very bottom of their Christmas trees.

The McCormicks have never had a Christmas tree. He isn’t sure if it’s because his parents never thought it was important, couldn’t afford it, or both. He’d been planning on surprising them all with one this year with a meager savings he’d accumulated from the jobs he’s been working to help pay the bills, but it had to go to an emergency window fix, the glass punched out in a fit of rage. Kevin’s hand is still scabbed over and bruised on the knuckles.

“Do you think mom will be home in time? For midnight? Uno,” Karen asks as she drops a card onto the pile, because for some reason they still care that their family is together while the calendar turns to the twenty-fifth. Their father walked out ages ago, which was probably for the best. Now their mother works late into the night and early in the morning, and they don’t see her very much anymore. Kenny understands, but they all miss her, regardless of how horrible she can still be. It’s not a perfect place, and maybe when they move out they’ll each have their own revelations about just how toxic and abusive the household they came from was, but for now it’s all they’ve got.

“Dunno, Kare,” Kevin mutters, and Kenny puts his cards facedown on the ground to pat the top of her head instead. She protests with a whine and ducks away, but he still messes up the top layer of her thin hair. When she straightens up, she’s smiling, and Kenny smiles too.

“Love ya, kiddo,” Kenny says, because they don’t say ‘Merry Christmas,’ because it doesn’t really mean anything. They never were taught the story of Santa Claus. There isn’t much merry about their seance for warmth in a cold, dark house.

“Love you too, Kenny,” she replies, her voice small and fragile, and she adds, “love you too, Kevin.” Kevin grunts.

They finish their game and fall back into silence, and Kenny reaches for his phone, practically a burner several years out of circulation. He has a new text message, and he feels a flutter in his chest, because the name of the sender is a short string of emojis and there’s only one person in his contacts without a regular name.

His phone buzzes in his hand as another text comes in, from the same tiny spaceship between two stars.

   You home

   Answer if youre up for a good time :P

Kenny licks his lips, glances up at his siblings while he contemplates the offer. They’re each using one earbud to listen to music. The screen from the old iPod they still use is lighting up their faces, because night is setting in and the last drops of sunlight are fading from their profiles so that they turn to silhouettes. Ordinarily he would say yes, of course, in a heartbeat, because his spaceship crush is a deadly combination of addicting and rare. Tonight he hesitates though, because it is Christmas Eve, and as he realizes this, he thinks to ask him why he’s looking for a quick visit today of all days.

  tf u doin xmas eve that u wanna fuck around instead @_@?

The response is almost immediate. His spaceship is always lightning-fast, the same way it traverses the galaxies like ponds and hops stars like lily pads.

   Nothing important

Before Kenny can reply, he sends another.

  Thats not true. Im doing important stuff. Which is why I need to know if you are part of the important stuff.

Kenny sighs. Though it’s tempting, and he feels like maybe it’s selfish, his family needs him more. Maybe they’re fine, he doesn’t know. It just doesn’t feel right.

   i gotta spedn it w the fam dude. xmas sux but u kno. its family

  *spend

There is a long pause in which Kenny does nothing but stare at his phone. There isn’t much to do on it like the newer models, so it feels like more of a brick than anything else. He switches between watching the clock tick by and watching his brother and sister share music together. It’s approaching eleven, and he isn’t sure his mother will make it home in time after all. The pile of cards they’ve abandoned sits neatly at their feet. The brick vibrates.

   Well. Dont go anywhere.

Kenny’s curiosity is piqued, but he’s not sure if it’s too forward to ask what he’s talking about. His spaceship likes to keep secrets sometimes, within its indestructible metal walls. That’s not quite true, Kenny corrects, because he knows how to destruct it, and it’s one of his favorite things to do. The faint high of excitement and nerves makes his stomach flip, and he tucks his phone away in his pocket, reaching out to hold Kev and Karen’s hands again per tradition.

Karen drops her head on Kenny’s shoulder and starts to doze off then, and he starts blinking away sleepiness himself as the ambient noise of his house lulls him to sleep. He doesn’t want to fall asleep though, so he keeps snapping back up to attention, jolting his head up and blinking his eyes rapidly awake. Kevin seems to be doing the same thing, and eventually, Karen starts gently snoring against him. He adjusts his arm so she can rest her head on his lap and in her sleepy stupor she obeys- something she hasn’t done since she was nine years old. He pets her head with his now free hand and tries not to think about how much she deserves better.

A knock on the front door startles all three of them so that they sit up straight, and Karen gasps as she returns to the waking world. “Mom?” Kevin asks, and Kenny shakes his head.

“Nah, she don’t knock. Lemme check by the window.” Kenny stands, walks across the room carefully to avoid the squeakiest floorboards, and peeks out the window to check out the scene.

He’s met with a view of a mass of dark green.

He is even more confused than before. He looks back at his family and nods his head roughly to the left, silently telling them to hide behind the hallway, and they obey quickly. Kenny takes the metal bat he keeps by the door in his hands, shifting it in his grip carefully and weighing its potential fatality, and in a streamlined motion he’s practiced before, he yanks the door open and pulls his bat up behind his head, ready to swing.

“What the-” a familiar voice rasps, and its owner leans backwards, his eyes wide with surprise. “Kenny what the fuck,” he exclaims, and it takes Kenny a moment to take in what he’s seeing.

Craig, his spaceship between two stars, is standing on his doorstep, and in his arms is a big pine tree as tall as he is. Kenny drops his bat down against the wall, and takes a deep breath in through his nose. “You answer first. What’s goin’ on?”

Craig blinks, then shakes the tree a bit to his right. “I said important stuff.” He shrugs, a motion made awkward by his bulky cargo, and Kenny points at it.

“What is that?” he asks, not wanting to get ahead of himself, but he thinks he knows. He has a pretty good idea that he knows.

“The fuck does it look like?” Craig shivers and Kenny realizes he’s left him standing outside inappropriately, and he jumps to the side so Craig has room to enter his humble abode- emphasis on humble. “I got you a tree,” he says as he lugs it in, and with a small grunt of effort, he leans it against the wall beside the door.

Kenny is silent for a moment. “You sure fuckin’ did,” he replies, weakly, because he’s not really sure what else to say. “Where the fuck d’you find a tree on Christmas Eve?”

“Farms sell them till the last minute. I knew you didn’t have one this year. I got a stand and shit too, because, you know.” It’s unspoken that Craig most likely knows that it isn’t just a this-year thing that they don’t have a Christmas tree.

He can’t really help himself; Kenny wastes no time in planting a sloppy kiss on Craig’s lips, not caring that maybe their relationship status isn’t the most defined or that his sister might see. He doesn’t care at all about anyone except the angel gone rigid in front of him who then wraps his arms around his back like he’s hugging him for dear life, like he always does. He feels tears prick at his eyes and tries to blink them away, but he’s not entirely successful. He wants Craig to know how much he loves this moment so he doesn’t try too hard.

Kenny doesn’t say anything at first because there’s not much that he can say to make it better. The silence between them is their usual comfortable normal, the adoration in Kenny’s heart beating so rapidly he’s sure Craig can feel it against his chest. “Thank you,” he finally decides on, whispering it, and Craig hums, the vibration of his Adam’s apple tickling Kenny’s cheek. “Is this real?” he breathes against his collarbone.

“I think so?” Craig replies, but the way it sounds genuinely like a question makes Kenny laugh.

“Craig, I don’t,” he begins, but he truly doesn’t know what to say, and so he says, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Craig murmurs, and he kisses the shell of his ear, and suddenly Kenny is floating miles above his own body. His soul dances in his chest like a ballerina, jumping and spinning in joyous circles that make him laugh. He must look crazy, doing that, laughing for no outward reason, but he doesn’t care.

“Kenny..?” a timid voice calls, and he remembers he banished the other two-thirds of his family behind the corner of his house for their protection. He leaves Craig’s arms as he turns around and Karen is peeking around the corner, her tiny hands gripping the wall and hair spilling straight down towards the floor.

“You can come out,” he says softly, his smile warm and glowing, “it’s just Craig.”

He can see the sigh of relief in her shoulders before she hops out from the hallway. She catches sight of the tree and gasps. A big smile is slowly growing on her face until it becomes too strong to hide behind her lips and her teeth poke out with glee. Kevin saunters out behind her, but rests his back against the wall, crossing his arms and keeping watchful distance.

Before she can crash into them, Karen screeches to a halt in front of him and Craig. She looks back and forth between the two of them, her eyes crinkled slightly closed from the pure intensity of the blissful grin on her face. “Um,” she begins, suddenly growing shy and clasping her hands in front of her sheepishly, “is that for us?” She looks over at the tree then back at Craig, waiting patiently.

Kenny looks to Craig too, whose expression is essentially unreadable at first but melts into a gentle smile, the kind that makes Kenny melt too. “I had an extra, so.” Karen giggles and Kenny sees Kevin chuckle a bit too before he kicks away from the wall to join the rest of them. “We gonna put this shit in the window or what?”

The rest of their evening is punctuated by happy chattering and giggling while they put together the small string of lights and miscellaneous baubles that Craig has likely stolen off his own Christmas tree for them, and Kenny wishes he could have recorded it. He wishes he could have committed every single second to memory, to savor the glow and genuine joy that pulsed from each of their chests so that every moment felt sweet, soft, and safe. He can, however, memorize the little flashes of things: the way Craig’s eyes get so dark they look black when the room is lit only by Christmas tree lights. The way Kevin smiles when he’s truly, really, happy, with one side of his mouth higher than the other and his tongue stuck between his canines in a smile. How Karen looks at him when no one else is looking, with so much innocent hope in the rosiness of her cheeks that he’s forgotten his worries entirely.

The way his mother looks shocked, confused, then overjoyed when she walks through the door at twelve fifty-three in the morning, officially Christmas Day.

They hold their breath as she steps quietly across the room and looks up at Craig, who struggles to keep eye contact and has to look away after only a few seconds. “Um,” he starts, but she pulls him down into a tight hug, and she starts to cry.

“Thank you,” she says, “oh, thank you for doin’ this for my babies. Thank you so much, Craig. Yer a good kid, you know. Your momma must be proud.” Craig’s cheeks are flushed with embarrassment after that, and Kenny can’t help but giggle at him, his heart in the clouds. “Well come on in now, kids. It’s Christmas, come on!” she insists quietly, her arms opened wide on either side of her, and Kevin, Karen and Kenny pile into them with Craig squished between them all.

She sighs, but it’s happy, and she holds them for a moment longer than usual. “Look, look,” she murmurs, twisting each of her children around by their shoulders- Craig too. “Look at all them pretty lights. You ever seen somethin’ so beautiful in this room?”

Kenny looks up, studies the way the white lights glow against the window and the wall, and he thinks to himself that he has. He’s seen four things so beautiful in this room in fact, and he sees them all around him, and it’s the most beautiful this room’s ever felt for as long as he can remember. Craig’s shoulder is bony against his own, and, remembering his proximity, he twists his hand around his forearm to search for his fingers. They find his and wrap together, warm and clammy, and Kenny breathes out deeply. For a moment, as his lungs empty, so do his troubles.

“Craig,” Kenny mumbles, his eyes struggling to stay open, the streetlight outside the only thing telling him that Craig’s eyes are open too across from him on his mattress.

“Hmm?” he hums, the way he does where his lips buzz and resonate with the vibrations of his heart. Their hands are clasped between them, meeting in the middle between their pillows and bathing in the white light that paints crescents in Craig’s dramatic knuckles.

“I think I love you,” he whispers, letting the smile in his heart overtake his lips, and Craig’s eyes widen before they return to half-lidded. Kenny watches his lips stretch into the widest closed grin he’s ever seen on Craig’s face. He looks so silly, like a caricature of a smitten cartoon.

“Oh yeah?” he questions, and Kenny laughs a bit.

“Yeah,” he says, “I think so.”

“Well,” Craig murmurs, in the deep, raspy voice that he adores that precedes his sleep and preludes his mornings, “I think I love you too.”

He squeezes his fingers in time with his racing pulse and closes his eyes, resting his forehead against the soft, flat back of Craig’s hand. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Craig hums again, and he falls asleep dreaming of the day he isn’t afraid to leave out ‘I think.’

Not yet, but maybe next year.

[schuylersxster]

Welcome to Heathrow Airport, III

PART ONE | PART TWO | masterlist

summary: You meet Lin at the airport during a painfully long layover in London on the way back to New York. You talk and are nerds together. It’s cute.

words: 1922

author’s note: I did the thing! S/O to @fragmentofmymind for liking my other stuff and making me finally want to finish writing this and put it up.

warnings: There’s cursing because it’s me, but that’s it.

In contrast to your everyday life, you woke up in what most people consider to be the morning hours, 8:30 AM to be precise.

Normally, after a deadline, there was an entire week where you barely woke up before noon every day.

Normally, after a deadline, the pit in your stomach had dissolved, but it was still present when you swiped away alarm after alarm after alarm but continued to lay in bed.

Literally, it’s just coffee. Get out of bed, you freak.

“Great encouragement, there.”

Your first instinct after escaping the bundle of sheets was to go and make a cup of coffee, but you had to stop yourself. Coffee with Lin, right. Breakfast, then?

Grabbing your first post-deadline read from the empty space on your bed, you flip it open to your current location and read it while getting some of the quiche you’d made yesterday out of the fridge. For the next half hour, you’re curled up on the couch with a new fantasy novel that you’re supposed to be reviewing and sending in a blurb for. Well, it was really due a week ago, but the author’s a friend of yours who pushed back the date because he knew you were turning in the last edits of your book.

When it gets to a few minutes past nine and you get to the end of the chapter, you close the book, abandon the plate on your coffee table, and go spend the next thirty minutes trying to look cute but not trying to look like you’re trying to look cute because then Lin would think you’re trying to impress him which you’re totally not doing but it also totally is. The coffee shop is only a couple blocks away, but you leave half an hour early anyway, plugging in your earbuds and turning on the audiobook of Neil Gaiman’s newest release as you lock your apartment door and head out.

You had planned to be the early one. And you were still early, but as you pushed the door to the coffee shop open, you saw Lin leaning on the counter, chatting with the barista.

Double checking your phone, you confirmed that you hadn’t entered a parallel world and you both were 15 minutes early for your date. Not date. Coffee . . . meeting? That’s too formal. Fuck it.

You thought about just slowly backing out of the shop and walking around until it was closer to 10, but a familiar face walked out from the back of the store. “[Y/N]! We thought you’d gone missing. It’s been so long since you’ve stopped in!”

Juliette, the owner, was walking toward you with arms wide. You chuckled as the older woman embraced you. Over her shoulder, you saw Lin had turned towards you.

God, I thought he attractive in an airport. This isn’t fair.

You pulled out of the hug and looked at the woman who had single-handedly supplied you with enough caffeine to get through your second book. “I’ve missed this place, believe me. Editing in an airport lacks both good music and good coffee.”

“Are you still drinking the same thing?” Juliette walked her towards the bar with her hand between your shoulders. You nodded. “I’ll get it started for you. And it’s on the house because I’m happy you’re back.”

“You don’t need to do that, Juliette. I can pay for it, really.” But she wasn’t having it, so you slipped a $10 bill into the tip jar as she turned to start the coffee.

“I do think you failed to mention you were a regular here.”

Oh, right, Lin. “This is where I lived and breathed while I was working on the second Labyrinth book. I came here every single day and sat in that seat by the window with my laptop.” You turned to face him properly since the first time you came into the café. “It’s nice to see you again.”

He glanced at the watch on his wrist. “You’re early.”

“I’m going to pretend not to be offended that you sounded surprised when you said that.” You shook your head and took the coffee from Juliette over the counter. “Thanks, Jules,” you thanked the woman.

Juliette was hardly behind the counter anymore—she was always either at the register or in the office at the back—but she always seemed to be around whenever you stopped in for a drink, and every time, she insisted on making your drink herself. “You sure you don’t want anything, sweetie?” she was looking at Lin expectantly, “it’s on the house if you’re with her.”

Lin ordered and insisted on paying, but Juliette refused because any friend of [Y/N]’s is a friend of mine.

It was no surprise to you that Lin was a busy man. Honestly, that wouldn’t be a surprise to most people who were at least aware that the internet existed that Lin-Manuel Miranda was a busy man. Being as such, he could only stay for a little over an hour in the little coffee shop before needing to leave.

“We should do this again. Soon,” Lin was checking the time one last time before he stood up to leave.

“Definitely.”

“Could you do the same time next week?”

After a second of running your schedule over in your head, you nodded, “For sure, I’ll see you then,” and you stood to hug him goodbye.

And so it went for the next few months. Every Tuesday at 10 AM, you and Lin would meet at the café a few blocks from your apartment. You’d talk about your lives, your terribly embarrassing pasts, and your aspirations. I mean, I literally wear a bracelet that says What Would Neil Gaiman Do? so if I could someone looks at me the way I look at Neil Gaiman, I’d be content. — I just want to keep making a difference. I don’t want to be just “the Hamilton guy” forever. I want to take that and use it for good.

Jen was sure you were meant for each other. “There’s more than one way to have a soulmate, y’know? You can be soulmates with someone without falling in love and having ten kids.”

“There’s no world in which falling in love means having ten kids, Jen.” You were lying on the couch in your apartment while Jen was sitting on the floor with her laptop. The two of you were supposed to be working, but the idea of work had flitted away from the both of you once she asked if she could schedule a meeting for Tuesday morning.

“You know what I mean,” Jen set her laptop on the coffee table with the screen pointed towards you, calendar open, “you two are, like, kindred nerds.”

Barking out a laugh, you turned towards the screen, looking at the tentative schedule for tour dates. “Wow, thanks for that one day off in the middle of this two-week tour.” It was twelve cities in thirteen days, and Jen had one travel day on day seven so that you could get from Texas to Seattle without losing your goddamn mind.

“Do you wanna whine about it or do you wanna sell books?” Jen grabbed the laptop back to lock in the dates with the bookstores. “What would Neil Gaiman do?”

“Sell books,” you mumbled, grabbing your phone and walking into the kitchen. “Do you want tea?”

“Ooo, yes, peppermint please.”

“Herbal tea freak,” you muttered, pulling the singular box of caffeine-free tea that remained in your kitchen for Jen and only Jen as you turned on the kettle. Upon unlocking your phone, you saw a few messages.

There was one from your mom, a few from your longtime best friend who was coming to New York in a few weeks, old messages from Jen that you’d never opened, and about six from Lin. He was a texter because he was busy. You hated texting and had been notoriously bad about not answering messages since you got your first phone in college.

From Lin: 12:27 PM

Can’t do coffee tomorrow, meeting w Lac

From Lin: 12:27 PM

He’s only in NY for a few days and he only had two hours for me in all of it

From Lin: 12:40 PM

You have to get better at responding by the way

From Lin: 1:58 PM

At least tell me you didn’t have a heart attack at hearing we couldn’t have coffee tomorrow

From Lin: 2:02 PM

[Y/N]???

From Lin: 2:24 PM

Could you do dinner this week? I don’t want to go another week without seeing you

To Lin: 2:45 PM

Shit. Sorry. I was in a meeting with Jen about tour-book stuff. Dinner sounds great! I have meetings pretty much every day but my evenings should be free.  

From Lin: 2:47 PM

SHE LIVES! How about Friday? 7?

“Are you dying in there?” Jen called.

You shook your head, pouring the water into two mugs. “Some of us have big girl tea that doesn’t require the water to cool down before actually making the tea. This is your own fault for drinking shitty tea.”

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter while you were walking back to Jen, a mug in each hand. “Someone’s popular today. It kept going off during the meeting. How did you not hear it?” You shrugged nonchalantly and went back to grab it.

From Lin: 2:48 PM

Or I could do another day, but Friday’s probably easiest

You smiled before typing in a response.

To Lin: 2:49 PM

Friday works!

“What are you smiling at?” Jen rested her head in her hand and batted her eyelashes at you. “Is it the Music Man?”

“Why does that look automatically accompany a question about Lin?” She just batted her eyelashes in response, a smile now on her lips. “It is, but it’s not whatever you’re thinking.”

“Oh, please, tell me, [Y/N], what am I thinking?”

“I don’t want to know.”

“You’re going on a date with Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

“It’s not a date.”

“It’s dinner, on a Friday night, at seven o’clock. It’s a date.” You shook your head and turned back to your laptop, where you saw the all-knowing face of your longest friend. Morgan, the girl who you’d met in gymnastics class at five, had been by your side for every big event in your life. You’d both grown in the same shitty suburb of Chicago, had gone to school together, gone to college together, and inevitably separated when you went to New York and she stayed in Illinois.

Now, she was living out her domestic dream. She’d always wanted to be a teacher, a wife, a mom. Now she had all of that, and she was so happy. Her husband was being an angel and letting you steal your friend away from her family for a week so that you could spend time with her for the first time in ages.

“Charlie, get out of that!” Morgan was yelling at her son from the computer, who was off-screen being a messy child, you were sure. “Hey, sorry, [Y/N] but I gotta go. Make sure to send me pictures of what you’re wearing though. I require outfit approval.”

“It’s not a-” but the screen cut off with another shout from Morgan, “date.” You shut your laptop and shook the thought from your head as you grabbed the open book from the coffee table and began reading. “It is not a date.”