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.
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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.
