#oh my fucking god i'm ready to lie down on the highway

[powderblueblood]

If there’s a future where Lacy and Eddie split but won’t ever let go then I’m a motherfuckin Eddie Munson is a wedding crasher truther!!!

Lacy gets her life somewhat back on track and is getting hitched to the Ivy League dullard she was always destined for had she not gone broke and fell from grace.

Eddie crashes the hen party and they fuck but afterwards he just can’t say the words and Lacy is once again disappointed. On the big day he finds the words and is ready to say them but will Lacy be too pissed that it’s 1. too late and 2. he’s embarrassing her on her day and infront of everyone she knows

OR will she be fleeing in the passenger seat of a roofless vintage car, custom Westwood veil blowing down the highway with her forever partner in crime?

Either way Ronnie is stood infront of a crammed church trying to desperately think of an excuse for a runaway bride.

now mona you fucking listen to me

when did you crawl into my brain in the middle of the night and read my thoughts. are you in my walls. are you under my bed!!!!

couple fuckin things this made me think about which maybe god knows maybe i will write to full fruition one day but for right now.... christ

so. eddie, a year or so grown out of the buzzcut he had at twenty-whatever (which could've been the last time lacy saw him, the last time she didn't have any hair to run her fingers through when he went down on her so she had TWO things to feel crushing regret about when they were done) (the first one... letting him eat her out in the first place obviously), disguising himself as a cater waiter at her bachelorette. lacy is the kind of person to have cater waiters at her fancy bachelorette.

ronnie 110% snuck him in because naturally she hates lacy's new fella and knows that lacy actually hates her new fella.

also did the last time lacy hooked up with eddie cause her to actively spiral and purposely set a marriage trap with the first dumb boston blue blood she could find (answer: yes).

anyway eddie now looks like this (actively trying to grow his hair back out...) and fucks her on a pool table of the country house she's celebrating at.

(by the way, the only theme for lacy's bachelorette is 'gambling' (secret secondary theme: 'guns') (secret third theme: 'cocaine').)

there's an exchange (mid-fuck, while he's ball deep in her, mind you) that goes something like --

"what do they call you now?"

"my name."

"and what's that?"

"... lorelei." "lorelei. lorelei, that's not your name. your name's not lorelei, it's got forty fucking vowels and a shitty backstory. what's your name?"

she hisses. this tight sound. tight as the grip she's got on him.

"what's your name?"

"... lacy."

hearing it fucking unhooks him totally. he groans her name, the one that feels like her, into her ear over and over and over. lacy, lacy, lacy.

"lace, ah, fuck--"

she tries to press a yelp into his shoulder but he's so close and so attentive and he never lets up. never misses a single sound, the fucking asshole.

"and what's my name?" voice splits on the last syllable. "what's my name?"

"eddie," she's all strangled, high heels tearing the cloth top of the pool table. urging him deeper. "eddie, eddie, eddie-- oh god--!"

"that's fucking right. that's fucking right-- and who do i belong to?"

he can hear the curse on her breath. "-- no one."

"liar," he knows how desperate he sounds, "don't fucking lie. look at me, look. who do i belong to?"

the sweat beading across his brow. he presses his forehead hard against hers. trapping her. she can't escape him. never could. he's in the seams of everything. so is she.

"who?"

"me."

"christ, that's fucking-- right-- i belong to you. i'm all yours."

as far as the actual crashing of the big day itself, GUARANTEED lacy warned him not to come near the fucking place or she'd kill him on sight. and this time, the one fucking time in the history of the world, he actually listens.

and lacy is enraged, duh.

she leaves her groom at the altar and guns that rented rolls royce to the nearest motel six she's positive eddie has parked the van outside of to sleep in

also, speaking of guns. she has one. a hunting rifle that she aims right between eddie's legs and she's all,

"you stood me up! you humiliated me!"

eddie, on the verge of pissing his pants naturally because did i mention she has a gun pointed at his dick, "what are you talking about, i did exactly what you told me to do!"

"and since when do you ever do that! huh!"

"so, what, i was supposed to ride on in there--"

"yeah!"

"--guns ablaze--"

"yes!"

"--and beg for you to come with me?! is that it?!"

"exactly! wasn't that your plan?"

"i mean--"

"oh, jesus, eddie, the only thing more embarrassing than you crashing my wedding is you not crashing my wedding! that's high fucking treason, you rat bastard piece of shit!"

eddie swallows, because she can't find a veil opaque enough for him. he sees right through, right to the heart of how badly she hoped he'd show up.

and then he did, and then he went and fucked her over again. because he's a coward.

"and if i did that... if i went through the pantomime of it all... you w--... you would've come?"

lacy goes quiet. aim's still true.

because she might want it real bad, but can she let herself have it? this, with him? the uncertainty of it all, even if the bedrock is truer than anything she's ever felt?

she's a coward too, y'know.

this grin unspools on eddie's face. levity boy. "well, i mean, you always come, but--"

tcch-tch. the gun cocks, and his cock twitches. you get the picture.