Reader! Who enters the bar in a large and poofy princess wedding dress, face full of makeup, and hair slicked up snd out of your face, veil and phone tightly gripped in your hand.
And makes almost everyone in the half empty room do a double take as you make your way to a free bar stool, small ‘sorrys’ as you lift your dress that keeps brushing against tables.
The bartender gives you a questionable look, “Can-Can I help you ma’am?”
“Can I get a strawberry daiquiri, and- do you sell wings here?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Then that too. The biggest basket ya got. With a side of barbecue sauce. Oh, and ranch!” You plop your veil in your lap and you set your phone down on the counter, that’s still rapidly buzzing.
If the 141 would have imagined such a beautiful and blushing bride walking into their live — in a dingy bar on a Thursday evening no less. Had Gaz not shoved Soap over to you, the four men would’ve all thought they were under some type of hypnosis.
“Bloody ‘ell yer bonnie.” Soaps words fall out before he can catch them.
You look over at him, half stoic from running away from your own wedding right as your ex soon to be husband said his vows in the last 45 minutes, and half thankful— you let out an airy giggle, “Well I did pay the makeup artist to do a good job.”
John comes around to you, he’s steady, poised, “Are you sure you’re alright love?”
“I feel alright, I think.” You say, sipping the fresh frozen drink sat infront of you. Okay, maybe more than two sips, but your hearts still pounding.
“No- I mean- you’re in the wrong place. Shouldn’t you meant t’ be-“
“—At a wedding?” You finish, finally meeting eyes with this beared stranger. You tap your fingers at the bar, shrugging, with an exasperated laugh, “I thought so too, before I found out that the guy cheated on me. Numerous times. And even when my mom tried me to convince me, I had to ask myself, ‘what is this for? What is any of this for?’ I didn’t want the big ass wedding to begin with, but I wanted the poofy dress. But I couldn’t even get the one I really wanted, so what’s the point? I’m fucking Barbie, and your trynna marry me to fuck all, when I want Ken!” You take another swing of your drink, burping it out and covering your mouth.
“I want Ken, and Denzel, and Keanu, and David Beckem in his prime with a big ass house and pool and not being forced to have kids for some company with no money promised to me for- some cheat! Next thing you know, I’m running and calling a fucking taxi to a bar I’ve never been to and then I got a slurpie on the way. And I’m craving wings. And I hope they enjoy that 4 tier cake cause I know for fucking sure, I chose a damn good cake.”
And maybe you’re in a movie or something because you got a handful of cheers and applause. Your cheeks burn underneath your skin with embarrassment but you’re unashamed. Eyes only matching to the other handsome men at the end of the bar who seem to be with the beard stranger.
Simon snickers and raises his pint to you, “Got a pair of balls on ya luv.”
You stick your nose up, ends of your lips cracking into a smile, “they’re pretty heavy.”
Gaz smiles, “Next one’s on me then, anything’s better than a shite wedding, yeah?”
John gives you a warm smile, hand slipping onto your upper back, “mind having your reception with us then? Don’t think we’re too shabby compared t’ the bloody muppet who fucked you over, are we?”
Your eyes swirl over the four men in front of you, biting the inside of your lip, it can’t get any more than an hour ago, can it? “No, I’d greatly appreciate it actually.”
a/n: reader having an ego death and singing Bitter Sweet Symphony terribly and drunk by the end of the night while four big military men hype you up. This is dumb.
hi! i read a fic about theo and runaway bride! reader and ive been thinking about it ever since. how about a runaway bride! reader, hear me out, who’s sirius’ sister- that isnt on speaking terms because she was forced into becoming a death eater and marrying another higher up deatheater- x james potter. please tell me you understand the vision, im literally awful at explaining but you can play this out however you’d like!
p.s. i have no clue if you do emoji anonymous, but,
-🍓 <3
oh. ohhhh my darling...i'm so in love with this prompt. I did take a little bit of creative liberty and changed the 'isn't on speaking terms' just a little bit to make how i pictured it work better? I hope thats okay :3
also, i do take emoji anons and you're welcome to be a little strawberry <3
word count:
an: the Rowle's are a part of the Sacred 28 and known death eaters that assisted moldy voldy in the first wizarding war; we're ignoring the fact that one cannot technically apparate until their 7th year
Apparating was still new to you. You had only done it a few times before tonight, just messing around with Sirius and James at school. That was likely why you landed a little ways from your intended destination.
You weren’t even sure the place you were heading would accept you, but you had to try. They were all you had left.
Your lungs were still burning slightly from how far you’d run from Rowle manor, but that didn’t matter. You pushed yourself off the grass, ignoring the pain in your knees where you landed.
Glancing around, you were unsure which direction to head next. Panic was settling in slightly, knowing you’d have to figure out what way to go before you were fully safe.
Layers of tulle and white silk bunched in your hands to get to your wand held in your garter.
With a wave of your hand a silver sheen of a shield blanketed over you. All protective measures were being taken to assure Walburga could not find you.
This entire situation was her fault to begin with. You suppose your father was also to blame, but everyone knows Orion is simply just complicit. It’s always been Walburga Black who ran the most ancient and noble house these days.
Noble. Truly an ironic adjective to describe your family. Your older brother, Sirius, fled to the Potters’ last year. You were envious of his escape.
You could still hear the venomous way Walburga had spat the cruciatus at him that same night. It made your eyes well with tears even now.
Things had only gotten worse since he left. Barely a month after Sirius was gone, he had been completely wiped from the home. It was like he didn’t exist; but you could never forget.
With the ‘problem offspring’ gone, Walburga set her sights on those that were still in front of her; you and your younger brother, Regulus.
The two of you were going to be her saving grace in the eyes of the Dark Lord. You were set to marry Thorfinn Rowle, official planning able to be done after your 17th birthday this fall. Regulus set to be his youngest and most obedient servant.
Regulus and Sirius appeared like polar opposites to onlookers. Sirius was the outcast of the family, sorted into Gryffindor, making friends with blood traitors and doing everything under the sun to go against your family name.
Regulus was obedient. A yes man. Always doing what was asked of him. Only you knew the truth.
Obedience was Regulus’s way of survival as was Sirius’s rebellion. Now Sirius was free, and the two of you were only becoming more trapped.
Sirius could tell when he saw you at school after his summer of freedom that something was off. Your eyes had become more hollow, the smile completely faded from all your features.
Hogwarts was usually the place you expressed yourself. The lack of desire Walburga had to enter the grounds gave you a sense of freedom that usually displayed itself in style and makeup.
Those things seemed stripped from you at the start of your sixth year.
Sirius had noticed the change during the welcome feast. Really he had noticed how hard it was to actually notice you. It was Regulus’s activeness that finally caught his attention.
At first, Sirius was curious about who Regulus could be paying so much attention to; he had never shown much interest in girls years leading up to this.
It was when his brother brushed your hair behind your ear and your signature silver streak became visible. That’s when he knew.
But it didn’t look like you.
Sunken eyes swallowed by dark circles, your gaze never left the table. Sirius watched as Regulus pushed a plate full of food in front of you, lifting a slice of toast towards your mouth.
You turned your face away, Regulus visibly sighed. He then leaned down, placing a kiss on the top of your head. James was talking Sirius’s ear off that evening, but Sirius didn’t hear a thing.
Sirius’s scoured what felt like the entire castle for you the next day. Typically he would have felt immense joy that the feast was on Thursday night and thus, classes didn’t start for four whole days.
However, now that just meant there was possibly four days he had to try and find you alone to see what in Merlin’s name was going on with you.
His friends were courteous enough to help him, splitting off into groups of two for the search. Sirius and Remus made their way towards the south courtyard.
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, “You shoulda seen her, Rem. It was…Godric, I’ve never seen Sunny look so..”
“Gloomy?” Remus was half smiling as he finished the sentence.
Sirius gave Remus a shove with half strength, “Hell, Moony. This is serious!”
“I thought you were Sirius…” Remus smiled wolfishly before holding his hands up, “I’m sorry, Pads, I was just trying to-” Remus stopped dead in his tracks, head turning to face the corridor they’d just passed. His nostrils flared briefly.
“She’s this way,” Remus started moving, Sirius hot on his heels.
Again, it took Sirius a moment to even recognize you. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw you look so..small.
“Sunny!” Sirius called for you. He knew you heard him; your shoulders tensing at his voice.
He simply would not accept you ignoring him.
“Sunny!” he grabbed your elbow and you whipped around to face him, “Sunny, what the hell is wrong with you? What’s happened?”
You visibly shrank, eyes glancing from your brother’s to Remus standing just behind him. You tried to hold back the tears brimming as you shook your head.
“Y/n…” Sirius pleaded, using your full name, “please, talk to me.”
You wrapped your arms around yourself, “It’s all different now, Siri. It’s almost like…she’s gotten worse. I- I can’t stand up to her like you did.”
Sirius opened his mouth to respond only for his jaw to clench.
He watched in disbelief as Thorfinn Rowle approached, slinging his arm over your shoulder. Sirius was fuming as he noticed your body stiffened at Rowle’s touch.
A slimy smirk graced Thorfinn’s features before kissing the side of your head, “Rowle’s do not interact with blood traitors, love. Don’t worry, you’ll learn it all by the wedding next summer.”
Remus took two large, quick strides and wrapped his arm around the front of Sirus’s shoulders. The raven haired boy was nearly shouting.
“Wedding?! What wedding! Sunny, what the bloody fuck is he talking about?”
Your eyes cast downward, unable to meet your brother, “Walburga arranged it this summer…”
Your voice was meek, which only made Sirius’s heart shatter.
Thorfinn’s mouth twisted into a devilish grin, “Our parents thought it wise to unite two of the Dark Lord’s most loyal families. He’s going to grace us with his mark at the ceremony.”
Sirius reached for your wrist, only for you to be pulled away by your future husband, “Hand’s off, blood traitor. She’ll be a Rowle soon enough.”
James and Peter arrived at the scene as you were being pulled away. Peter was glancing from where Remus was holding Sirius back to where you were being guided farther away from them.
“What’s happened? Did you get to talk to her?” Peter almost sounded nervous. Rightfully so.
Even James could tell whatever was going on wasn’t good. Something inside his chest felt amiss. A sharp gnawing that started in the pit of his stomach and seemed to be spreading towards his chest.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on. What’s happened is Walburga. Sunk her bloody fangs into Sunny and trying to turn her into a slave for her hateful dreams,” Sirius was obviously seething.
When James and Peter still looked rightfully confused, Remus clarified, “Their mother arranged for Sunny to marry Thorfinn Rowle next summer. Dark Lord to give them his mark and everything.”
The sensation in James’s chest turned into a stabbing, each breath more painful than the next.
“Is there anything we can do to stop it?” James watched Thorfinn guide you like a predator with his prey. You were able to glance in the Marauder’s direction as you turned the corner. Eyes locking briefly with James before you were pulled out of sight.
Sirius shook his head in response, “Our best hope is maybe Rowle drops dead before it’s complete.”
On the day you were set to wed Thorfinn Rowle it was all just…too much.
The two of you were separated as you got ready; Thorfinn in his usual wing of the manor while you were in the guest wing. You had several house-women fawning over you since you woke.
Working on your hair, your make-up, your gown. Walburga going over and over how you should address the Dark Lord, how you were to address him, bow to him, do anything he pleases.
She spoke of the honor it was for you to be marked and married. But honor was not what you felt.
You had barely spoken all day, as every time you sucked in air it felt like bile rose in response. It was all so overwhelming.
The expectation of what to do, what to say, how to say it, how to nod, how to bow. Just..you needed a break, you needed..something.
You needed to get out of there.
“I-I’m sorry, could I…could I just have a quick moment to myself please?” You made eye-contact with the house-woman fixing the back of your gown in the mirror.
She nodded, “Of course, miss. We’ll be right outside.” She and the three other younger girls assisting curtsied before exiting the room.
Once hearing the click of the door closing, you began to move.
You grabbed your wand from the bedside table, doing your best to quickly yet quietly move towards the terrace doors connected to the south wall of the room.
Once outside you surveyed your surroundings. Thankfully, the guest wing was located near the back of the manor. Most of the guests and family members were in the front of house either helping Thorfinn get ready, or preparing for the Dark Lord.
Utilizing a floating charm, you assisted yourself from the second floor terrace to the grass below. After another quick glance of your surroundings, you started running.
Through the woods was the quickest way to get past the protection barrier of the Rowle manor. Something you had acutely noticed on your carriage ride in after arriving with your parents and younger brother.
You could feel your gown snagging on branches and twigs as you pushed your way through; simple cuts and scrapes were not going to deter you from your goal.
It was slightly harder to navigate as the sun was setting. However, you were able to physically feel when the barrier was broken, like pushing through a fog that was holding you hostage.
In that moment you felt yourself take your first full breath in hours. And with your exhale, you closed your eyes and focused on the place you wished you were instead.
The park in which you appeared seemed familiar. A simple playground in the middle, a pavilion with picnic tables to one side, park benches on the other. A large grass field to the south swaying in the early night breeze.
Then it hit you. James had spoken of this park several times, about how he’d come here as a child. You remember him talking about how sad he was when his parents told him he had to stop, given that he had started to show some of his magical abilities by making stones dance in his palm for friends.
You also remembered him telling you how the Potter manor was past the grass field.
Now you’re running again. Faster and faster until your lungs felt like they were going to explode inside your chest.
You knew there was an invisibility barrier for non-muggles around the Potter manor. Most higher class wizarding homes had them. In your mind you were to just run until a giant home popped into view. And that’s exactly what you did.
A large golden ‘P’ on a cast iron fence was your main indicator; the giant three story manor was the second.
With a sigh of relief your legs finally gave out, causing you to fall to your hands and knees. Your chest expanded to its fullest extent as you took in large breaths. Your arms shook slightly underneath you, whether that was adrenaline or exhaustion you couldn’t be sure.
You really wanted to just lay down, close your eyes for a moment and rest. With the strength you could muster, you raised your wand once more, a dancing twirl of flashing light leaving the tip and towards the manor.
James’s room was lively with the sound of exploding snaps. Sirius jumped atop James’s bed, throwing another before declaring victory like a mid-century knight.
“I, Sirius Orion Black, am VICTORRRRR!”
James threw a throw pillow from the sofa in his room and hit Sirius square in the chest, earning a grown and subsequent collapse from his friend.
“Pads, I beat you four bloody times before this,” James caught the throw pillow Sirius threw in retaliation with such ease one would think he summoned it to his hand.
Sirius opened his mouth to retort when a swirling string of brightness made its way through James’s window before disappearing with a pop right in front of Sirius’s nose.
James watched as Sirius’s alabaster skin somehow got two shades paler.
“What was that? What’s wrong?” James walked over to his window, inspecting where it might have come from.
“It’s…but it can’t be. We only made that charm for short distances, there’s just no way,” Sirius jumped off the bed and walked to James at the window.
“Merlin, I hate when you do that, Pads. Say stuff but not explain a blasted thing, what are you getting at now?” James unlocked his window and pushed the double panes open.
Sirius shoved his way in front of his much broader friend, “It’s something we used to do when we were younger; me, Sunny and Reg. We all had these bursting charms my uncle Alphard made for us to play in his garden.”
Sirius continued, “Mine was silver, Reg’s was green and Sunny’s was gold. It was like a game we had, and Alphard made it to where they would only hit one of us; wanted to ensure no one accidentally hit Walburga by mistake but..”
Sirius shook his head, “It…it’s not made to go very far, she’s gotta be close,” his eyes scanned the expanse of property in front of him, “Godric’s bloody sake, Prongs, why’s your family have to have so much land you rich prick.”
James was also scanning over Sirius’s shoulder, which was the perfect angle to flick him in the ear, “Bug off, it’s your land now, too.”
In the next instant James was smacking Sirius on the shoulder, “You bloody idiot! Do yours!”
Sirius’s expression was nothing short of extreme confusion.
James shook his head in disbelief, “You said you all had your own little charm and it’s only supposed to reach each other, yeah? Not meant to go far. Well,” James flung his arms towards the window, “Fucking…do yours! Send yours and then we can see where hers came from!”
Sirius smacked himself in the forehead, “Prongs I could kiss you, you filthy fucking genius.”
He retrieved his wand from his front pocket, giving a slight flick before the same string of light emerged. Only this time, it was a brilliant silver.
The string swirled around in different loops in the air, heading left from where the two boys stood at the window.
They watched as it went past the gates, just towards the end of the property line before bursting atop of what looked like a small pile of white sheets.
Before Sirius could even point it out James had turned and ran from the room. Sirius was quick to follow, but James was much quicker. By time Sirius was out the door, James was halfway across the lawn.
James cast his wand and the large gates flew open with a loud clang.
You were lying on your back when he reached you, one arm slung over your stomach hugging yourself with the other covering your eyes. James could hear the soft sobs leaving your throat.
Without giving it a second though, James scooped you into his arms. Your knees hung over the crook of his elbow while his other arm wrapped around your middle and held you close.
Almost instinctively your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his chest. James could feel his shirt become damn and your tears continued to flow.
Sirius had only just caught up, breathing heavily, when James turned back towards the manor.
“Is she,” Sirius paused, breathing deeply with his hands on his knees, “is she okay, is she hurt?”
James shook his head, “I keep telling you and Moony that you need to stop smoking.”
Sirius scowled; James frowned, “She seems physically alright, but there’s so much to this dress I can’t quite tell. There’s no sign of bleeding, but there’s a few tears in the dress near the bottom, could be from just her getting here.”
Sirius nodded, reaching for your left arm, “Did you check.”
James just shook his head. You gave no fight when Sirius gently pulled your arm towards himself. James placed a soft kiss to your forehead for reassurance.
Pushing up your dress sleeve, Sirius saw nothing but goosebumps on your forearm. A deep sigh of relief left both boys throats before they started back towards the manor.
James could hear Sirius spouting curses under his breath, talking something about a ‘plan of action’ on how to keep you safe.
In James’s mind, you made the best choice coming here. He wasn’t sure why you chose it exactly, maybe just because Sirius was also here. However, the two of you weren’t exactly on speaking terms since Sirius found out about the arranged marriage last fall.
A small part of him hoped that it was also his presence that led you here. He did always seem to gravitate towards you whenever you were around the marauders clan in previous years.
He liked to think you had also found your way close to him for reasons other than convenience. Those were inquisitive thoughts for another time.
Your arms tightened around his neck, causing James to instinctively hoist and adjust you against his chest.
“S’alright, darling. We’re almost there. We’ll get you inside and settled. Draw you a bath maybe, yeah?” James hugged you closer, feeling intensely protective.
As they reentered the manor, they made their way back to James’s room. Sirius pulled back the duvet enough to allow James to lay you onto the bed.
Sirius stared blankly as James tucked your feet under the covers before pulling them up to your shoulders. You tucked your hand under the pillow, turning on your side and pulling your knees toward your chest.
“I don’t know what to do, Prongs,” a quiver rumbled through Sirius’s voice.
James wrung his hands, “Dunno. She obviously is stunned or traumatized or something. Maybe we should give her some space or–”
Your arm shoots out from under covers, voice timid, “Please…don’t go, James.”
Sirius threw his hands in the air, mumbling to himself, “Oh sure, I’m your flesh and blood brother but don’t come here for me. Please, Prongs, get into bed with my sister.”
James glared at Sirius until he walked to the ensuite bathroom.
He turned back to you, “How can I help?”
You looked so frail and small, lip slightly quivering as you whispered, “Can you just…hold me for a moment.”
It felt like someone had grabbed hold of James’s heart and squeezed the life out of it. He nodded in agreement, climbing into bed behind you.
You turned to face him, arms close to your chest. James wrapped a strong arm around your back and pulled you closer to him.
“I’ve got you now. Whatever happened, it’s over. I promise no one can hurt you while you’re here with us. With me,” James wasn’t who he was trying to assure more; you or himself.
You nodded in response, burying your face in his chest once more.
Notes: PART 1 HERE! made myself cry BUT it’s fine. This was fun to write. If anyone has any ideas for anything else I could do within this universe/relationship, PLEASE send them my way!! and ofc, let me know if you’d like to be added to the Taglist
TW: runaway bride, homewrecker!Ben, cheater!reader, leaving someone at the altar
Mascara streaked. Hands clenched in the layers of her wedding dress. Veil crooked and wrinkled. He doesn’t even get a word out before she’s shoving her way inside.
Ben barely has time to close the door before she rounds on him.
“This is all your fault!”
She’s yelling. Loud, panicked, furious. Her voice is cracking already. “I was fine, Ben. I was—I was gonna marry him. I had a life, and you just—you ruined it.”
His brows lift, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“You knew what you were doing,” she sobs, shoving at his chest. “You knew that every time you touched me, I’d come back. That I couldn’t stay away. You knew.”
“Yeah,” he says calmly, voice low. “I did.”
That just makes her angrier. “God, you’re such a smug bastard—”
She hiccups on a sob, wiping her face with trembling hands. “I was supposed to get married, Ben. I was standing at the goddamn church doors and, I realized, I couldn’t do it. Because all I could think about was you. Your voice. Your fucking hands. The way you talk to me like I’m already yours—”
“You are mine,” he growls, stepping toward her.
“No,” she snaps, even as her eyes flood again. “No, I’m not—I didn’t want this. I didn’t ever want this.”
She slumps back against the wall, dragging her hands down her face as the sobs come faster—ugly, raw, gut-wrenching. The kind that feel like they hollow you out from the inside.
Ben watches for a second, jaw clenched, before stepping in. He gathers her against his chest despite her weak resistance, wrapping her in those massive arms like he can force the pain away.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I got you, sweetheart.”
“I hate you,” she sobs, face buried in his chest. “I hate you so much.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do,” she chokes. “I hate that you’re right. I hate that it was always gonna end like this. I hate that I didn’t stop it before it got this far.”
Ben’s grip tightens. “Should’ve left him the second I touched you.”
“I know,” she cries, broken. “But I didn’t. I was a coward, and now everyone’s gonna hate me. My family. My friends. I walked out on my wedding, Ben. Do you get that?”
He lifts her chin gently. “And you came here.”
Her lip trembles. “Because I didn’t know where else to go.”
“You are exactly where you need to be.”
She flinches like it hurts.
Because deep down—she knows it’s true.
And that might be the worst part.
He kisses her—gentler than he ever has before. No teeth. No hunger. Just warmth and promises he’ll never say out loud.
“I’ll take the heat,” he murmurs. “Let ‘em blame me. I’ll be the big bad wolf who seduced and brainwashed the pretty little bride. You just breathe.”
And she does.
Still sobbing. Still furious. But clinging to him like she’s afraid to let go.
••••••••
The sobs have quieted by the time he pulls her into the bedroom.
Her cheeks are still wet. Her eyes, glassy. But she’s not pushing him away anymore—not fighting the hands that skim her waist or the lips that graze her temple like a promise.
Ben hasn’t said a word in minutes. Not since she stopped yelling. Not since she collapsed into him, shaking like she hated herself for it. Now, he’s just watching her.
Like a man starving.
“You don’t get to be smug,” she whispers, voice raw and trembling. “You don’t.”
But he just hums, brushing the hair from her eyes. “Sure I do. You showed up in a wedding dress, baby. Might as well’ve gift wrapped yourself.”
Her breath hitches.
“You were always gonna be mine,” he says softly. “Told you that. Told you that months ago.”
“You said I’d never marry him.”
“Because you wouldn’t,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You were never gonna take his last name. Especially not when it was mine you wanted all along.”
She shudders when his fingers skim the delicate engagement ring still on her hand.
Ben’s expression darkens. Sharpens.
He takes her wrist gently, almost reverently, and plucks the ring from her finger—holds it up between them like it’s offensive.
“Ugly, cheap piece of shit,” he mutters. Then he tosses it.
She hears it hit the hardwood somewhere behind her, but she doesn’t look back.
Her heart’s in her throat.
And then he grabs her.
Not gentle this time. Not careful. He fists the soft fabric of her wedding dress and pulls her flush against him, lips dragging over her jaw, her neck, her collarbone.
“You really thought you were gonna marry him?” he says, voice low, dangerous. His thumb drags over the satin at her hip, slow and deliberate. “Walk down the aisle, say your vows, smile for the crowd—and what? Pretend you hadn’t been letting me fuck you six-ways-to-Sunday, in his bed, raw for months?”
She flinches. “Don’t—”
“You don’t get to act innocent now, sweetheart,” he says, hand dragging up her side, fingers brushing over lace and tulle. “You gave yourself to me. You know it. I sure as hell know it.”
Her eyes glass over.
“Did he ever even touch you the way I do?” he murmurs, cruel in how soft he says it. “Bet he never made you cry like I do. Not the right kind of cry, anyway.”
Her lip trembles, but she doesn’t answer.
He smirks, cocky and bitter and aching. “That’s what I thought.” He huffs a smug, cocky little laugh, “that limp dick little asshole couldn’t get you there. Not like I can. Not at all, if I remember correctly. This whole time sweetheart, you just needed a real man who knew how to take care of you and that pretty little cunt. And goddamn did you find the perfect guy for the job.”
Then he leans in and kisses her—slow and possessive, tongue dragging over hers like he’s reclaiming stolen property.
“You’re not his. You were never his.”
He lifts her onto the bed with one effortless motion, crowding her beneath him. Her dress hikes up her thighs, lace bunching in his fists.
“It’s a real pretty dress, baby… Keep it on,” he growls when she moves to unfasten it. “I wanna fuck you in it.”
Her lip trembles.
And she lets him.
He sinks into her like he was meant to, forehead to hers, breath hot, voice broken as he whispers, “should’ve been me from the start.”
He takes his time—slow but heavy, reverent but filthy. Possessive. Like he’s erasing the rest of the world. Like if he just marks her deep enough, no one else will ever touch her again.
And she takes it.
She clings to him like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Because maybe it is.
When he finishes, it’s with a groan against her throat, lips brushing her skin like a promise: never letting go.
And when he rolls them over, pulling her to his chest, she doesn’t say a word. Just curls into him—wedding dress wrinkled, mascara ruined, ring finger bare—and lets herself feel something that might be relief.
And surely all of what happened yesterday was a dream. Just like the morning of your wedding.
230 dinner plates, 250 butter knives, 210 chairs, 23 dinner tables, 210 thank you cards, call the florist and make sure she can get in the venue, call David’s mom and try to suck up to her, accept thr ‘something old’ with a smile, make your parents proud, and make sure Soap is making you waffles in the morning—
Ah!
That’s not— maybe it was your head ringing like an alarm, two heavy arms sling over you, nipples hard from the cold air hitting you, light from the shades blinking your face, your core aching— that’s when you manage to shoot up. Because none of that’s right. Should you be in your newly husbands hotel room. Not— fuck- where the hell are you runaway bride!reader?
The room you’re in is a mess, scattered clothes to the floor, curls now out and brushing against your neck, the veil tilting sideways on your head, big poofy white dress MIA in your tired eyes. You can see yourself in the mirror of the dresser now, little dark bruises all over your skin, makeup a mess, and you’re bug eyed now, eyes darting to the men who’s arms are still around you, a messy head of blonde hair mumbling for you to lay back down, a Mohawk lightly snoring— Ghost and Soap.
What did you— who did you screw last night? Your hand hits your face in anguish, trying to recall something- any-fucking-thing. You went to the bar after deciding you couldnt go through with the wedding. Met four men, they bought you drinks and food, food and drinks, and shots— you may have won two rounds of poker and won Gaz’s underwear, Ghosts shirt in the next round that was so warm on your body. John is a sick bastard of a cheater— him and Soap tagteamed you so fucking well you’ll have to steal the idea from them— you don’t know how they got you home— or where the dress is.
But you remember saying you needed to lie down. And that John’s bed was sooooo comfy.
Especially with Soap’s Cock in your mouth, your fingers running through John’s brunette locks while his tongue swirled around your buzzing clit, lapping you’re sticky cum through your folds till you started to get beard burn, bucking your hips in his face and slurping the side of Soaps cock to his heavy balls, let him fuck your mouth while John nezzled his girth between your slobbering hole— no- fuck
Gaz and Ghost folding you half between them, each of them taking their turn to thrust their dicks in you to the hilt, both knocking themselves against your g-spot till you were practically pissing your juices everywhere, velvety walls cleaning around Gaz’s length as he painted your insides, mouth latched the both of them in a sloppy in a heated and desperate kiss. Swiveled your hips back and forth on Soaps length, full lips wrapping around Johns hardened member, slapping the crown of Ghosts cock on yout tongue as Gaz used your plush ass cheeks like a pocket pussy—
Would God ever forgive you for such biblically accurate greed?
Maybe the heavens were already punishing you because you barley made it to the bathroom to pee, stumbling like a damn deer that got hit by a ca. silence filling the titled space with you and your thoughts, this was just the tip of the iceberg. What hell scape was your notifications in right now. No one knew were you were, your sure your mother was ready to damn you down to hell and try to salvage the “marriage.”
Maybe if your friends were true to you, they would’ve saved you a piece of the wedding cake.
Your goal is to get the hell out of this house, start over a state away or something, maybe community college while working part time— a normal life for once. One of your own.
You’ve got some money saved in a private account, you don’t need anybody, except your grandma. If you needed to talk to someone, she’d be there. Always.
Your dress is still missing, but you slide on someone’s jeans, your underwear ruined and added to the list of things youre missing. Easing the dresser drawer open and stealing a shirt and flannel, maybe a pair of socks too so you weren’t walking barefoot.
You attempt to sneak down the steps but your legs buckle at the last two, a yelp escaping your lips as you trip on your own legs.
“Here comes the bride~” John hums which has Gaz laughing.
“Mornin beautiful, hope we didn’t hurt you too much.” And Gaz goes to help you up and snatch yourself away, stumbling into the end table behind you but using it to steady yourself.
“No, nooooo. Never. You guys- shit- you guys—“ you’re at a loss for words, face palming once more as heat rises underneath your skin, remembering what happened last night. “I’m great, I’m perfect! Never been better!” You nod to yourself as if it would make it true.
John takes a moment, taking the state of you in, then checking in with Gaz.
Worry is in the older man’s eyes, ends of them crinkling, “Really need t’ leave so soon dove?”
“I’m sure you guys, have things to do. People to see.”
“Just you, sweetheart. Just— focused on you.” Gaz says softly.
And you can hear your ‘ker-thunk’ so hard in your chest, it shakes you even more. The attention you’d been dying for years, was so easily given to you last night, even in this moment. It’s, you, you, you.
You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I’ve really wasted your time.”
“Not at all.”
“…And the man, the ex-“ John clears he throat, “Did you two- really get married, on paper—“
“—It was supposed to happen at the reception.”
And theres a hint of relief on both of their faces, much easier to snag you with a man who’ll be gone from your existence when there are no legal documents you have to fill out. 
You give them both a forced smile, a chuckle, “I’ve gotta go! I’ve fucked a lot- I mean, I fucked up a lot in the past 24 hours. I don’t think I can hold up the hate [+] brigade any longer than I have, and you guys- must have-“ you finally swallow down a breath, “a life or something! The four of you, It’s about that time, I have an appointment at the laundry mat- with the dentist.”
You’ve got John smirking, arms folding across his chest, “Funny thing this one is, yeah Gaz?”
“Look,” Gaz starts but there’s a honk of your taxi outside.
“I have to go-“ and you take a step to leave but he grabs your arm in time. Not rough but enough for him to bend down to meet your pretty brown eyes, sliding a card in your hand.
“You call, we’re there. Anytime love, promise.” Gaz sighs, fixing the girl on your head before ever so lightly caressing your face, “Still the prettiest bride we’ve ever seen.”
“Ghost ‘nd Soap will wreck havoc that we’ve let you go dove, we’ll have to meet again. All five ‘f us.”
You suck in a breath, biting your lip, “I-sill think about it.” Your eyes flicker to the both of them, lifting the card along with your phone. “Thanks again.”
It’s easy to let a bird go, much easier to let you think youre free, track exactly where you’re going and move from there. Of course the 141 wouldn’t let someone as perfect as you go. Not when you had your way with them last night, too addictive.
You fit right in with the four of them, Thry couldnt let you go now.
If you weren’t the right bride for your stupid ex—
You definitely would be for the 141.
a/n: I love a morning after. Was Highkey waiting for that STOP THE WEDDING song to come out to write this but it played in my head so it’s okay.
