Prompt: Best Man Lin sneaks alcohol to a wedding and asks a lonely Y/N for a dance.
Pairing: Lin x reader
A/N: It’s here! This is my longest fic EVER. This was inspired by the pictures from the Chicago magazine that, at the moment, I can’t seem to think of. But I KNOW you guys know what I’m talking about. The one with the blue suit? Lin was SO handsome in the pictures! Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think!
Three months ago, you received a wedding invitation from your childhood best friend. Even though you and Amelia have drifted apart over the years, you still remember your silly teenage conversations with her about the “perfect” wedding. With a quick glance at the beautiful gothic-styled church, you were delighted to find it was exactly what she imagined it to be.
You fidgeted nervously in your car, watching as strikingly dressed couples and families made their way to the church.
You’ve never been to a wedding alone before.
You tried not to linger on the last minute cancellation from your plus one, but you couldn’t help to feel anxious as you watched strangers pass your car. Other than her family members, you didn’t know a single person at the wedding.
Mustering up all your courage, you climbed out of your car, smoothing down the invisible wrinkles on your nude colored dress. You started to walk towards the church, smiling politely at the people you passed.
At the entrance, people were gathered around a table, signing the guest book. Three men donning blue suits and white button-up shirts were off to the side, greeting guests as they passed them.
Must be the groomsmen, you thought, giggling quietly at their contagious energy and gleaming smiles.
Seeing that the table was finally free, you stepped forward to examine the book. Guests signed their names and added a brief message to the couple. You tapped the pen against the table, pondering on what to write.
“Hi, are you with the groom or the bride?”
You turn towards the voice, surprised to find one of the groomsmen next to you.
He was handsome, with a five o’clock shadow and perfectly quaffed hair. An easy smile was on his lips, radiating a friendly attitude.
“The bride,” you say, returning his smile. “I was a childhood friend of Amelia’s,” you explain at his quirked brow.
“I’m Henry’s cousin,” the man, whom you officially dubbed Mr. Handsome, replies.
Silence settles in between the two of you, and the same uncertainty that you’ve felt earlier started to creep up your spine.
“Here, don’t forget to grab the bubbles,” he says suddenly, taking a couple bottles from a basket beside the guest book. “We’re going to use them after the ceremony.”
You accept them, chuckling, and tuck them into your clutch. “Thank you.”
He grins and was about to say something further when a frazzled young woman holding a clipboard grasped his arm and tugged him towards the other groomsmen.
“Pictures! We need pictures before the ceremony,” she urges, voice shrill.
Mr. Handsome barely had time to wave goodbye to you before he was ushered outside.