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trashmouth-richie · 1 year ago

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ᴴᴱᴬᵀᴱᴰ

MODERN! EDDIE x FEM! READER

MODERN! KING! STEVE x FEM READER

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

summary: taking the back roads to Indianapolis was Eddie’s idea. the day trip there was Steve’s. But when Wayne’s borrowed truck grinds to a halt on the hottest day in September, the tension and the boys’ tempers aren’t the only thing to rise.

warnings: 18+ smut, alcohol use, drug use, drug mention, kinda sadboy! Eddie, king Steve being king Steve, modern times so things such as google and Snapchat are mentioned. no use of y/n, reader has a nickname, pet name usage.

The blazing swell of the late September sun had been pelting down on you all day. Stuffed right between your best friend Eddie and his best friend Steve, the humid Midwest air trickled through the open windows in a hazy wave of oven door heat.

Between Steve’s hair-brained idea of driving to Indianapolis for tickets to the annual Irvington Halloween Festival and Eddie’s even more ridiculous idea of taking Wayne’s single cab truck, without A/C to make the 4 hour round trip drive— it was no surprise when the clunking metal of the brown ‘86 Chevy spluttered to a grinding stop alongside the highway.

100 miles from Hawkins, and nothing but pent up anger boiling at the surface to keep you all company.

“Oh this is just great Munson,” Steve groaned, swinging open his door and slamming it shut with a metallic bang. A ring of sweat set deep in the Hawkins athletic shirt he was wearing, a heavy hand pushing his hair from his face, “dude, let’s take the truck!” he mocks the long haired metal head, “fuckin’ told you this would happen!”

The boys weren’t exactly getting along for the entirety of this trip. Eddie and you had made plans to decorate your apartment tonight for Halloween, a month too early just like you did every year, a night full of themed snacks and cheesy 80s horror movies, the perfect opportunity to finally make his move.

But when Steve showed up at the light blue trailer looking for his wingman to help him score at Hargrove’s party— he was less than impressed to find you peeking around Eddie’s outstretched arm holding open the door, a shit-eating grin on your face. Even more pissed when Eddie told him that you would be tagging along. A roll of his eyes and a scoff on his lips as he pounded down the concrete steps.

Steve wasn’t your favorite and you definitely weren’t his. He didn’t get the appeal.. Always too loud, too annoying, acting like one of the boys when clearly you were just too insecure to have any friends that were girls.

As he stomped through the dead grass he told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that you turned him down freshman year, never mind that it was six years ago and Steve had plenty of girls added to his belt, his snap score and drawer full of stolen panties proved it. Never mind that his bruised ego from that night at a bonfire in the woods pushed him into his King Steve era. He flicked a cigarette into the dirt, muttering under his breath.

“Fuck off, Harrington.” Eddie gripes as he shoves the gear shift into neutral, he lowers down to his left and pulls the hood jack towards him. “It’ll be an easy fix.” He says to you, his breath fanning your sweaty cheek as he shoves open the door and jumps out, boots crunching along the gravel as he pushes the hood open.

To be fair, Wayne’s truck had about a 50/50 chance of making the trek to Indianapolis, but Eddie had wanted to take it for a few reasons, and not one of them was for a trip down memory lane like he had told Steve.

The first reason he wanted to drive the truck opposed to Steve’s BMW, was lol was because it was a stick shift. An opportunity to let him float the gears and have his veins pop out that he knew was a panty wetter for most girls, he had only hoped you fit into that category.

The second reason was simple: there was no air conditioning, meaning the small tank top you were wearing would undoubtedly become very hot, and maybe… just maybe you would think of taking it off to cool down.

And finally the third reason mimicked the first… you would be sitting bitch in the middle, and with each shift between gears, his arm would be sliding around the soft plains of your luscious thighs. The same thighs that were bare besides a high waisted pair of cut off shorts that had his mind flipping the perv meter to dangerous levels when you hopped off your bike this morning.

Greeting him with the same smile that cooked his brain to mush for years.

Only today— you were starting to flirt back with him, pushing your ass out and bending at the waist just to untie your shoes. Even though in the history of forever, you had never once taken off your worn converse in the Munson trailer. You also were wearing a tank top, accentuating your curves, and Eddie was ready to chew a hole in the makeshift drywall of his trailer when you bounced up the steps to greet him.

Usually you hid your body with a baggy shirt and a pair of jeans, your fuck-off attitude is what earned you the right to have Eddie as a friend in the first place.

Tonight he was going to push the limits, share a joint with you when the yellow harvest sun dipped low into the indigo trees, kiss your ear with chapped lips while he held you when the movie had a jump scare… he had a plan. And Steve ‘cockblock’ Harrington was being the worst wingman of all time.

Sliding out of Eddie’s door, the Navajo rug blanket snags against the cracked leather of the worn seat. The back of your knees were sticky and shiny with sweat, same as your cleavage, not a single stitch of wind to be found along the gravel road— unless you counted Steve’s annoyed huffs.

—

Steve bitched and moaned the entire time Eddie was bent over the truck. Investigating what had gone wrong, “aren’t you supposed to be some sorta mechanic?” He grumbled, pushing his hair from his forehead, slotting his hands back into place around the Levi’s on his athletic hips, “swear to God if you make me miss this party, and what Lily has been teasing me with on snap,” his eyes roll into the back of his head at the thought of it, almost letting out a desperate whine.. “I’ll shoot you dead Munson.”

“Take it easy Stevie,” Eddie grunted, his jaw tensed and an irritated tone on his lips. His brows turned inward in concentration as he twisted a wrench with strong grease covered hands from behind the hood, “just need’t.. fuck.” Dark smoke started billowing out around him.

His foul mouth spewed a string of words that barely made any sense, ending his fit with a slam of the hood and his wrench thrown into the ditch.

You walk pointed nails across his sweat covered bare back easing his bruised ego with a sickly sweet voice, “it’s okay,” you preen, pushing your chest into his side when he wiggles from your tickling fingers, his dark eyes swirling into calm and the huff from his breath lost in his throat, “I’ll just call AAA.”

AAA did not service in your area, and according to google— the nearest gas station was twenty miles away, a podunk hole in the wall that sold newspapers for a quarter and had 1 star reviews.

“Fuck,” Eddie shouted, kicking the tires and hiding the burn of ache traveling up his leg, “the hell are we gonna do now?”

“Guess we’re fucking stranded! Great idea Munson, gonna die by the inbred hands of the family from The Hills Have Eyes, but god we just had to take this piece of shit!.” Steve spit as he flopped back into the bed of the truck.

Eddie pointed a greased finger into Steve’s chest, “you,” he said prodding with emphasize, “were the one who didn’t want to buy them online, oh God Eddie let’s just get out of Hawkins for the day, make Lily sweat a little bit, make her think I have a bitch in Indy..”

“Fuck off,” Steve said shoving Eddie’s hand away, sitting up, casting a stank eye in your direction, voice laced in venom, “at least my dick is getting w—”

A pack of cards hits Steve right in the chest, hard and knocking the insult from his lungs.

It was your idea.

The slick pack of cards in the glove box with paisley red design on the front was sure to lend some relief and make time pass between now and when Robin would be on the way, driving Steve’s BMW with white knuckles and the radio off no doubt. You had texted her when the boys were arguing, explaining the situation and promising her a small white baggy from Eddie’s stash when you got back.

“great idea,” Steve accuses, “s’ gonna take at least 2 hours to get here,” his hands fly in the air in defeat as he yells, “she’s failed her drivers test four fuckin’ times because she drives like my grandma, and that old bag has been dead for years!”

“Cool it, you didn’t have any other ideas besides whining Steve,” Eddie defends, fingers wrapped around the neck of a foggy glass bottle filled with amber liquor, he hands it to you in a slick move of his wrist bending and presenting both a blunt and the bottle like a flower blooming in his open palm, “might as well relax a little s Sswhile we wait, make it worth our while.”

The liquor went down with a burn, hotter than the pinked shoulders of Eddie’s sunburnt skin. And the small band of splotchy salmon across Steve’s nose.

Eddie wrestled a dusty moth bitten blanket from behind the seat, and spread it on the bed of the truck. Before you could push your ass up onto the tailgate, he had wrapped his hands tight along your hips and hoisted you up. A grip so tight he didn’t want to let go, your body feeling just right in his palms, and you were feeling it too.

As the liquor bottle got lighter and lighter, the tension eased, Steve was actually laughing at Eddie’s jokes and wasn’t rolling his eyes as much when he had to give you a card or when Eddie praised you for winning again.

When Steve threw his cards on the blanket and twisted his arms in a pout at losing another round of Go Fish, it was his idea to play another game.

“It’s real easy,” he explained around a puff of smoke as he shuffled the cards back into the pack with his large tanned hands, a single bead of sweat sloping down from his temple and curling around his chin. “You hold up five fingers, and if you’ve never done what one of us says, you keep a finger up, but if you have… you put a finger down and take a sh—- hey dickhead!”

Eddie’s lips turn sinister around the glass bottle as rogue drops of Crown dribble from his chin. “Ooops,” he says coyly, eyes bigger than Betty Boop’s and already feeling the combined high and drunken stupor take over his body, “were you needing this?”

Dragging a hand down his face, Steve sighs, “yeah it’s kinda the whole point of the game, fucker,”

“Hey…” Eddie whines, “be nice Stephanie.”

With another ten minutes of arguing about Eddie being a jackass and Steve being crabby in hot weather, you all agree to play the game, the loser has to finish the bottle and strip off an item of clothing.

“Okay so let’s start this easy,” Steve explained, “never have I ever been arrested.”

Eddie puts a finger down and scowls, “good one Harrington,” he adjusts his legs and leans back against the frame of the truck, “just because you got away doesn’t mean your ass wasn’t just as guilty as mine.”

“Shoulda ran faster,”

The boys make annoyed faces at each other and it’s Eddie’s turn, “never have I ever… nope I’ve done that… never have I.. shit.. okay pass! I gotta think.”

“Your turn,” he says, passing you the bottle of almost empty liquor.

“Okay, Uhh..” you hold the bottle with both hands and gently peel back the label with your fingernail, rubbing the sticky residue between your fingers, you rack your brain for something that would get them both, “never have I ever… peed standing up.”

The boys roll their eyes, and each put a finger down, “cheap shot,” Steve whines, and glowers when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Oh I got one!” Eddie says rubbing his hands together, splaying a wicked grin on his face, “never have I ever, socked Billy Hargrove in the face.”

You push Eddie’s shoulder and slap his chest playfully, as he laughs like a hyena, “he deserved it!”

Steve chokes on his inhale of the passed blunt, “that was you?!”

“Fuck yeah it was!” Eddie says proudly, “that’s why she’s banned from the pool.”

Laughing at the now funny memory of Billy slapping your ass as you walked by him in your swimsuit.

The way Eddie’s fist felt in your hands as you shoved it down, the rage in his eyes as he was ready to beat the bricks off of Billy.

The sick twist of his mustache when it formed a grin knowing that Eddie was on his last strike with Hopper and couldn’t defend you.

And the satisfying crack of his molars splintering in his gum line when you knocked your fist into his jaw.

The pain and swollen fingers were worth it.

“And I’d do it again,” you say lowering a finger and taking a swig from the bottle, the burn of the liquor barely there now.

Steve laughs, a new sense of almost admiration, as he looks at you with his hair in his face, grabbing the joint from Eddie’s fingers and holding it firm between his teeth, “my turn,” he says clearing his throat, “uh..never have I ever… kissed Eddie.”

You and Eddie look at eachother and giggle awkwardly around the cloud of dense smoke, but your fingers never budge.

“Seriously?” Steve says incredulously, looking from you to Eddie and back to Eddie and then you again, “can’t lie in this game, dude.”

Eddie had come close to kissing you on a few occasions. Once in high school at Steve’s party after winning the beer pong tournament, he looked at you the way someone would a lover, wetting his lips and looking at your mouth, but in the end he gave you a bone crushing hug and twirled you around the room.

Another time during the 4th of July fireworks last year when you had both smoked two bowls from the pretty pipe he gifted you earlier that year on your birthday.

The air was warm, just like today, and you leaned your back into his front as you laid lazily on the roof of his van. He was singing a song you were too high to comprehend and when you turned your head into his shoulder and looked up at him.

His fingers wrapped around a lock of your hair and you hummed in approval. Snuggling further into him. And the next thing you knew it was nearly dawn and you had fallen asleep.

It just never seemed like the right time.

“So who’s turn is it?” Eddie said clearing his throat.

“Oh n-n-n-n-n-n-no!” Steve said leaning further into the circle, clearly interested to know what’s going on, “we aren’t just gonna skate past this.”

“Drop it, Steve,” Eddie said all too fast, his boots stretching out to kick at his thigh.

The bottle in your hands is suddenly heavy and you set it down with a clunk on the bed of the truck. And you pick hastily at your nails, avoiding two sets of brown eyes.

“Fuck it,” Steve says, tongue dancing around his mouth trying to stop a smirk, “I dare you to kiss her.”

You're certain your heart stops beating.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs. Running his hand on the back of his neck, his open cut off flannel shirt showing off his tattooed chest.

“Y-you don’t have to Eddie, it’s okay…” you say trying to brush the tension off, not noticing the way his hands are fiddling with the ends of his shirt and how his eyes haven’t left you, “but I dare you to.”

It could have been the combined high. It could have been the fact that you hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eddie since you parked your bike against his trailer this morning.

He was always good looking, in that goofy best friend kind of way. And although your friendship was never normal, Eddie’s hands always searing through your skin like grill marks on a hotdog, it never crossed the boundary into something more. And you’d be lying if you weren’t curious about how his lips would taste.

That was all the convincing Eddie needed before he pushed himself up in a fluid motion, balancing on his knees, and leaning back with a second guess, but it’s you who leans up on your knees too, meeting him halfway.

His dark curls swing around your face as he gets impossibly closer. “You sure?” he asks, working a finger under the tip of your chin.

And your surprised when your nod is followed by soft lips, slipping against yours.

He tasted like the liquor you’ve been drinking and matches. Musky, and woodsy. Your tongue swipes against his bottom lip and catches into the corner of his mouth, the brine of sweat on your tongue has you whining into his mouth and he swallows your noises with glee.

He shudders when you pull him closer, fingers hooked into the fabric of his shirt. His eager hands holding your face, lips smacking against yours, and for the first time today, it’s not the heat that has your panties wet.

Kissing Eddie is like finding money in your jeans after they go through the dryer. It’s easy, and slow, and so fucking good.

Seconds, minutes, days? go by before Steve clears his throat and mutters an ahem!

Eddie finished the kiss by nudging is nose down the apple of your cheeks and kissing behind your ear.

“Fuck…” is all Steve can muster and you bite your lip and sit back down, lips still buzzing with Eddie’s spit still on them.

Eddie is smiling and looking at you, eyes drunk on lust.

“I— uh, yeah, it’s my turn I guess, ” straightening your back and crossing your legs in a pretzel, you know damn well you’d get at least one finger down from Steve. “Never have I ever… kissed Nancy Wheeler.”

Steve rolls his eyes and puts a finger down, and when a long finger covered in grease despite the many wipes against denim jeans also disappears into a fist… a sloppy grin lines Eddie’s mouth as Steve looks like he might throw up.

“Are you fuckin’ serious man?”

Eddie explains to a butthurt Steve, “let me explain, fuck— it was like a hundred years ago, after junior year, she kissed me!”

It was true.

Nancy went to Eddie to buy some “forget-‘ems” (Eddie’s coined word for ecstasy) after Jonathan left her for the pretty long haired new boy from California. She was scared and didn’t want to be alone while she took the white pill. Drug use being foreign to her entirely.

Eddie? She had asked kindly, unsure about herself for the first time. Take it with me?

His long curls bounced as he nodded his head, taking one of the pills from her dainty hands and placing it between his teeth. Tipping his head back with a quick jerk and a rough swallow, hoping it looked cool, he looked into her blue eyes and gave her a grin.

It was strange, having the preppy Nancy Wheeler in his trailer with her proper fitting cardigan and light wash skinny jeans.

He could tell she was uncomfortable, the normal glow of her skin was lost behind shallow cheeks and dark rimmed eyes, pressed tight with setting powder to try and hide it.

maybe she should have had a smaller dose, being that her small frame had never dealt with drugs before. And right when Eddie’s high took over, Nancy Wheeler had started to feel it too.

She ran around the trailer giggling and feeling the rough edges of the peeling wallpaper. She did flips on Eddie’s bed and spilled cereal all over the kitchen, laughing with dark wide pupil filled eyes. Completely rolling.

The high lasted longer than Eddie had thought it would, and she started to cry when thinking about her mom, crying harder when she asked Eddie about his. Forgetting she was gone.

She took it a step further by kissing Eddie square on the mouth, wet cheeks and harsh lips pressed to his before he could pull away. And immediately after, Nancy threw up all over his lap.

Ending the high and the four hour sudden friendship they had gained.

Eddie had told you the story one night when he got too drunk, making you swear to secrecy the next morning that you’d never tell a soul, and you hadn’t. Keeping the pinky promise with your friend all the way to your grave— if he hadn’t just spilled it all to Steve.

“See,” you say to try to smooth things over, voice calm and cool through your own high, “no harm no foul, Stevieee,” you chirped, hiding a small giggle behind bit lips.

“Really?” Steve spit, flustered and a bit bold trying to mask his hurt with venom. Tongue pressing deep into his cheek and his dark eyes locked on your own, hands tapping onto his bent knees, “then maybe we should even the score, huh?”

Eddie blows a ring of smoke into the air, following its lazy descent into the dense humid sky. “You wanna kiss Chrissy?” He looks at you with a quizzical expression, laughing at your stunned face, not understanding what Steve is getting at, “be my fucking guest, dude.”

“No,” Steve says firmly, not breaking eye contact with you, dark knives of fury peel back each layer of skin, “her.”

Eddie says your name in disbelief, and you’re stunned to your core, realizing the air was suddenly much stickier and hotter than before.

He sits up straight and leans over the discarded card game, pointing at Steve, eyes narrowed in on him, “you don’t even like her.”

“Sure I do,” Steve lies, sniffing loudly, his wicked eyes glance towards Eddie and he licks his lips when he turns his head back to you, eyeing you up and down, as he leans back on his palms, “don’t I, Taffy?”

Eddie’s nickname he had given you when you were kids for love of the cavity inducing candy, felt wrong falling from Steve’s mouth, especially in the grim sentiment it was said in.

Of course he was referring to the way he had approached you at that party at the lake all those years ago.

You could still smell his Acqua Di Gio cologne, the way the sun highlighted his hair that summer, the freckles on the bridge of his nose, the warm beer on his breath.

You make a face in disgust towards him, “I’m not kissing you, Harrington.” Crossing your arms in finality as if your words held enough power to command an entire kingdom.

Eddie shoves Steve’s shoulder, “what the fuck man,” mixed pleasure of pain and concern painting his face, “don’t be weird.”

Steve knew how much Eddie liked you, having spent many nights on the roof of his practically abandoned home listening to Eddie through FaceTime over analyzing how to make his move.

“‘m not,” he says with a shrug, long fingers tapping against the metal of the truck bed behind him, legs stretched out so the tops of his air forces skim your bent knees, eyeing what he wanted, you.

“just trying to get even,” Steve said nonchalantly.

“She’s not gonna kiss you,” Eddie said, shaking his head and throwing his hands around, hurt lacing his voice, “give it up.”

Steve wiggled the toe of his sneaker against your knee, shooting you a wink, “not until she does.”

It’s not as if the question hadn’t crossed your mind. It had more times than you’d like to admit. What would it be like to kiss Steve Harrington?

“Dude! She doesn’t wanna do it. Fucking leave her alone.” Eddie’s voice was loud and on the cusp of breaking as he pleaded with his friend.

What would have happened if you fell for his charm instead of turning him down? He was definitely sweet back then, taking your hand in his and guiding you along the rough terrain of the woods.

“Let her speak for herself!”

Eddie’s eyes fall to yours in desperation, his heart aching for you to tell Steve off, “c’mon, tell him, Taffy.”

Pressing your eyes shut tight you can feel Eddie’s hand on your knee, rubbing soft circles in an attempt to remind you that he’s there.

“One.”

“What?”

“What!”

“Just one kiss, then you need to shut up, got it?”

“Taff, you don’t have to do this, we can— we can just get home and I’ll pay him or something.” He’s desperate, willing to do whatever it took to not have this happen.

“It’s okay, Eddie, what’s one stupid kiss gonna hurt?”

You don’t hear the way he groans and throws himself back against the side of the truck, pinching the corner of his eyes between his fingers trying to ignore Steve’s low chuckle and smirk planted on his face.

“C’mon then,” Steve presses, man spreading his legs and patting his lap, “get over here.”

You roll your eyes and push yourself up again, “cocky aren’t ya?”

“all confidence babe,” he says back, licking his lips, and you roll your eyes again before kneeling in front of him.

Eddie groans and kicks at Steve’s leg again.

“Sorry dude, just bro code,” he said to Eddie, “and you,” he says addressing you with a nod, “ready?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

He doesn’t move like Eddie, he’s grabby and rough, taking what he wants and not waiting for cues. He bullies his way into your mouth with his tongue, colliding yours with his and massaging it wildly. It wasn’t bad, just completely different than how you were just kissed by Eddie. When his teeth bite the flesh of your lip you yelp in surprise.

You turn your head and Steve’s lips trail down your neck, hungry hands grab at your waist and pull you into his lap. Your eyes are closed but his are open, looking at his friend and moving his hand in a wave to beckon him over.

A second set of hands is on your shoulders and you feel Eddie’s lips against your neck.

“This okay baby?”

His breath is hot and stuttering as you reach up and fist your fingers in his hair, your answer muffled by Steve’s mouth.

You moan their names, and it drives Eddie wild.

Eddie’s hands lower the strap of your tank top scraping your skin with the blunt of his nails. He groans when he sees the absence of a bra strap, diving into your warm skin with a lapping tongue, thrashing slow against your skin, working a strawberry shaped bruise into your skin.

Steve’s hands are already working to pop the button on your jeans, and you whine when you feel his hard cock beneath your leg.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” Eddie breathes as you crane your neck to meet his lips, desperate for your lips to connect with his sgain.

His hands fumble on your tank top straps and he groans when his fingers skim over the swell of your tits, you twist his hair in your fingers when his rough hands pinch at your nipples.

Steve takes his shirt off and tosses it carelessly, his skin is warm on your bare chest as he licks at your exposed neck and earns another moan from you, causing you to whine into Eddie’s mouth and move your hips against his cock.

You’re all a tangle of bare chests and sweat coated skin. The boys are barely giving you any time to breathe between open mouth kisses and lazy tongues before the other one commands your attention.

“oh, fuck,” Steve whimpers when he works your shorts down, his large fingers find their way into the wet folds of your pussy, “no panties?”

Eddie pulls his mouth from yours to let out a desperate groan as your hands unzip his jeans, “shit, all day and no bra or panties,” his hands caress your cheeks and his thumb slips into your mouth open, which you close around him and moan, “you’re a bad girl, huh?”

“With the tightest little pussy, fuck,” Steve groans as he pushes a finger into your slick walls.

“Mm’mm” you answer them both at once, grabbing needy at Eddie’s cock through his boxer briefs as it flips into your hand, heavy and leaking a pearl of cum from the slit.

Noises of all kinds flood the bed of the truck.

Wet sloshing from you gushing over Steve’s fingers, him coaxing an orgasm from you as quick as he could, determined to hear your pretty mouth hum.

Eddie almost in tears as your mouth devours his length and the head of his cock slides into your throat.

The velvet skin of Eddie’s heavy cock slides in and out of your mouth at a slow speed, a small patch of hair rubs on your nose as you take him deeper.

He’s muttering incoherently and Steve is egging you on. His lips wrapped around your nipples and teeth nipping harshly.

“Jesus Jesus sweetheart, Taff— I’m gonna, don’t want to shit shit shit,” you open your mouth and he slides out on accident as you cum all over Steve’s fingers. Sloppy and wet as he rubs at your clit like a DJ.

“Thas’it,” he encourages, “so fucking wet, pretty little pussy, yeah, you like this? The two of us giving you what you want huh?”

“Yes, Jesus Christ yes!” you’re a blabbing mess, as your high peaks and Eddie spins you away from Steve.

Steve’s jeans are soaked from you and he’s pitching a tent big enough to host a family reunion.

“My turn baby,” Eddie says kissing you sloppy on your lips, “been wantin’ to taste this sweet pussy for years.”

He helps you lay down on the blanket, making a makeshift pillow with the discarded clothes from the three of you.

You’re covered in sweat and more than likely sunburnt in places no one ever should be, but you could care less. Being worshiped by Steve and Eddie had you feeling like the sexiest woman alive, and nothing could compare to the separate high that alone was giving you.

Eddie nudges his nose in the crook where your thighs meet, tongue lapping up the pleasure leftover from Steve. “What’d’ya think Stevie boy? Wanna bet I can make her cry?”

Steve’s busying himself with unthreading his legs from his jeans, his cock in his hand as he strokes it up and down at the sight of you spread out and naked for them.

“You’re on, Munson.”

Eddie’s tongue was tantalizing. Demon-like against your puffy clit and going further into your pussy than any tongue has before, including Robin’s.

His nose pushes up against your clit as he goes deeper, swirling his wicked tongue and slurping your folds into his mouth.

You’re buzzing all over. Vibrating from the intense pleasure. Moaning and yanking Eddie’s hair between your fingers as he moves and licks and darts his tongue.

Pretty whimpers elicit your body and are swallowed by Steve’s lips, as he hungrily works his tongue into your mouth. The swirling and twirling is all too much. Their tongues work like hands on a clock and your second orgasm arrives quick fast and in a hurry. The tears spill from your eyes as your writhe and moan beneath them, clawing every inch of their skin.

Eddie cleans you up with his tongue holding your hips in place as you shake and try to wiggle away from him. Too sensitive as you lay practically lifeless on the bed of the truck.

“Told you,” Eddie says as he sits up, with a sheen of your arousal all over his face. Smiling wide. “I’m just that good.”

Steve sits up and tucks his cock back into his boxers, pushing his hair back from his sweat slicked face, “yeah yeah, whatever…” he says, looking out towards the blue sky and the wavering, heat wave horizon, a stupid grin on his lips, “better get dressed sweet girl.”

“Thought we were just getting started,” you whine as Eddie kisses his way up your body, laying on his back next to you, his finger threaded with yours.

Steve chuckles and points a long finger to the road, “it’ll have to be another time, princess, our ride is almost here.”

I have a part two partly written .. lemme know what you would think of that?

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #steve fanfic #steve x female reader #steve harrington smut

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anxiousgaypanicking · 2 months ago

Text

Oreo

Synopsis: As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails. Taglist: @renys @falsemood

Part Eight: Movie Theatre Mayhem Masterlist

“He’s running late,” Virgil hisses as he sits on Logan’s porch. Janus sits next to him on his phone, and Logan sits next to Janus with a book out.

“He’s not running late,” Logan objects, flipping to a new page. “The movie doesn’t start until six. It’s only 5:30.”

“That doesn’t even factor in the previews,” Janus adds, nudging Virgil playfully in the side. “The trailers and advertisements start at six; the movie itself probably won’t even play until a quarter past.”

Virgil’s leg jumps as he sits. “I’d still prefer we leave early.”

Janus gives him a smirk. “Why? Excited to meet up with your boyfriend? It was very kind of him to offer to pick us all up; you might want to consider thanking him somehow. Like with a kiss, perhaps-?”

Virgil shoves Janus away, scooting away from both him and Logan. Janus snickers openly at his groan of disgust, while Logan presses the back of his hand to his mouth in order to hide his amusement (though, in Virgil’s opinion, he’s doing a terrible job).

“What movie are we seeing anyway?” Logan asks, though he doesn’t really sound like he cares - more like he’s just trying to move on. “I believe we decided against the horror one?”

“Roman said it’s called ‘The Misadventures Of Ms. Marjorie,’ or something,” Virgil answers, pulling his knees to his chest. “I think it’s some stupid kids movie, but there isn’t really anything else playing.”

“It’s a musical,” Janus further explains, turning to Logan. He shows Logan his phone, which has a synopsis of the film pulled up. Logan sets his book down on his legs in order to properly read through it, and seems to glance back up at Janus, before nodding in appreciation.

Virgil meanwhile pushes his head into his hands with a groan. “Is it?” he responds, sounding more aggravated by the minute. “I can’t believe that’s what you and Roman decided on.”

“It’s less stupid than plotless gore,” Logan replies. “It would have been dull watching poorly-achieved special effects splatter around what’s supposed to be a bloody scene. That, or outright bad computer-generated imagery used to create what could otherwise be done ten times better with props. At least a kids movie will have a story to follow along.”

Grumbling under his breath, Virgil really has no counter and so just makes a few angry noises to just his discontent, though he’s mostly ignored by the other two.

His phone sits right beside him, and he subconsciously keeps his hand rested on it, waiting absentmindedly for any vibrations. And when it does vibrate, he has it up within seconds, unlocking it and pulling down his notification bar in hopes Roman has some explanation for why he’s still not here… twenty till.

Instead, there’s a message from Virgil’s father.

‘I’m sending you grocery money. Extending my vacation by another week or two. Love you,’ followed by Virgil getting another notification of money being sent to his account. It’s enough to cover groceries - enough to cover a month’s worth of groceries in Virgil’s case - and it makes Virgil click his phone off and drop it back onto the porch, pulling his legs tighter to his body as he tucks his face into his knees and stares barely over them out towards the road.

Janus and Logan are talking quietly beside him, as they’ve both set down their entertainment in favor of each other’s company, but Virgil can’t find the energy to join them.

At 5:50 is when Logan starts to look a little antsy, and leans forward a bit to direct his words to Virgil as he asks “any word from Roman? At this point we’re set to miss the trailers, and I’m not too thrilled with that notion.”

Virgil gives a half hearted shrug. “I don’t know.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “Can you check?”

Staring at him, Virgil feels the brash impulse to chuck his phone at Logan and make him check, or ask why they can’t communicate with Roman considering they had no qualms regarding tagging along, but instead he just bites his tongue and lifts his phone briefly. Seeing no new notifications, he curtly responds “he hasn’t said a thing.”

Reaching towards Virgil, Janus sets a comforting hand on his upper arm, which encourages Virgil to take in a deep breath.

Focusing on breathing for just a moment, Virgil immediately finds himself feeling a little better, and so adds quietly “I’ll… I’ll send him a text, and ask what’s taking him so long.”

“You did remember to give him Logan’s address, right?” Janus jokes, which has Virgil frowning at him, but relaxing nonetheless.

But as he pulls up Roman’s contact in preparation to text, a familiar white car comes rolling slowly into view, with it parking on the curb shortly after. As it stops, Logan and Janus look towards Virgil for affirmation that this is in fact Roman, and the flush on Virgil’s cheeks says everything they need to know.

“¡Mi vida!” Roman calls, waving towards Virgil, and hurries towards the porch. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

Virgil stands immediately, and avoids Roman’s affectionate hands, making a beeline towards the car instead. “It’s fine,” he sharply replies, in a way that lets Roman know it’s in fact not fine. “Let’s just hurry and get there before we end up missing the movie.”

He gets into the passenger seat and watches Roman through the window as he talks a moment more to Logan and Janus, before they follow suit to the car as well. Janus and Logan slide in the back, while Roman gets into the driver’s seat, buckling up and checking around to make sure everyone’s done the same. He then flashes Virgil a sweet smile that Virgil responds to with a piercing glare.

“I am really sorry I’m late,” Roman begins again, as he starts the car. He speeds a bit down the block in an attempt to make up for lost time, though it just makes Virgil feel carsick as they hit a few turns too fast. “Remus’s tutor ended up having to cancel, and there was a whole issue between our mom and dad involving… custody stuff.” Roman looks uncomfortable, even while walking through the rather vague explanation. It has Virgil actually turning to him with a bit more curiosity, but Roman stares straight ahead at the road, lips pressed shut. Displaying visible discomfort, Roman didn’t look as though he was going to elaborate any further.

And so Virgil shifts away again and musters up a meager “okay.”

The car ride is silent past that point, with not even Janus and Logan making conversation in the back. The air is thick, and Virgil’s fingers run along the window’s buttons, debating whether or not he should roll them down to try and make things feel less hot and cramped.

However, he doesn’t get the opportunity to before they’re pulling into the movie theatre parking lot.

“Ha!” Roman exclaims, as he shifts the car into park. “We’re here! And with five minutes to spare! That’s plenty of time to get concessions and get settled!”

“I’ll pass on the concessions,” Logan says, as he steps out and onto the asphalt. “I’d rather get into our auditorium as soon as possible.”

Circling around the car, Janus stands a bit too close to Logan as he nods and says “I’m with Logan on this one. I’m not necessarily hungry for oversalted popcorn anyway.”

Roman smiles at them as he moves towards Virgil, bringing out his wallet and pulling out two twenty dollar bills. Passing them to Janus and Logan, he explains “I assume we’re all going to sit together, but because I’d like food you guys can just buy your tickets separately. That way you won’t have to wait up.”

Janus immediately plucks the money from Roman’s hands, as Logan can’t help smiling and thanking him for his consideration. Virgil frowns.

With Logan and Janus walking ahead of them, Roman keeps at Virgil’s sluggish pace, and links their fingers together without hesitation. The action causes Virgil to whip his head towards Roman, hissing out an embarrassed “what the hell do you think you’re doing?” which just has Roman giving him a shy smile.

“Well,” Roman answers, cheeks pink, “this is like a date.”

“We’ve already been on a ‘date’ asshole; I don’t understand why you’re smiling like a dope.”

Roman shrugs. “That was like… a trial date. This is like a date date.”

“There’s no difference.”

Cheesing from ear to ear, Roman responds “there totally is.”

By the time the two of them step inside, Logan and Janus are already making their way down the hallway in line to their theatre, though Virgil watches Janus glance back and smirk at them as he sees their hands intertwined. Virgil is almost tempted to rip free of Roman’s hold, but doesnt, and instead lets Roman lead him to the concession counter.

Virgil pulls out his phone while Roman strikes up a short but friendly conversation with the worker, before he tells Roman what seats Logan and Janus got so they can sit by them. Getting a good look at the concession screen, Virgil can see the theatre is completely empty, which does make him feel a little better. Then Roman’s ordering a large popcorn and two drinks, before nodding towards the candy racks.

“Hungry for chocolate or anything?” he asks, though he seems more like he’s encouraging Virgil to grab something as opposed to just merely asking.

Virgil doesn’t answer him verbally, but reaches over to grab sour Airhead bites, which he tosses onto the counter with a grunt.

Seemingly pleased, Roman hands Virgil the two empty cups. “Could you please get me cherry coke? And then you can get whatever you’d like,” which has Virgil walking off immediately to go do as he’s told, giving them both a little ice and a lot of soda as Roman finishes up his transaction. He comes over while Virgil’s pressing the lids on and then trades Virgil the drinks for the popcorn.

“I’m not sure how you like your popcorn, so butter and salt how you’d like!”

“I don’t care how it’s done.”

Roman seems to soften a bit, and his smile falls as he places the drinks on the counter. He sets a hand on Virgil’s upper arm. “If you don’t want to be here, we don’t have to be. We can go home if that'll make you happier.”

Virgil feels guilt swell in his gut as his head falls away from Roman’s gaze. Wordlessly, he pushes the tub under the butter machine, and moves it around so that the entire top layer is coated. He then gives it a little shake in an attempt to mix it around, before adding a few dashes of salt and setting it before Roman, as if presenting it to him.

“The stuff underneath won’t be as good, but whatever,” he says, which again has Roman frowning.

“Virgil, I’m serious. We don’t have to stay.”

Uncomfortably shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, Virgil wraps his arms around himself. “Are you wanting to leave? Because I never said I wanted to.”

“You just…” Roman trails off, and then also looks away with a sigh. “You just look miserable. If you stay here while upset, you're just going to end up associating this place with feeling upset. Or… or me with being upset. I don’t want to be the first thing you think of when you feel bad, and I never want to keep you somewhere that’s making you feel that way.”

Roman’s phone vibrates in his pocket, which briefly throws him off, but he ends up shrugging it off and pushing Virgil’s drink towards him.

“Please… do you actually want to stay?”

Virgil stares at the drink, and then takes it. Though it’s difficult, he ends up giving Roman a small smile. “Yeah. I want to stay. There’s just… a lot going on.”

Groaning playfully - seemingly relieved by the tonal shift - Roman goes “tell me about it,” and then chuckles to himself. His ease regarding the situation does help alleviate some of Virgil’s own tension, and he watches as Roman grabs three straws. He gives Virgil one, and takes one for himself of course, before winking at Virgil as he slides the third into the popcorn. Then, he very carefully positions it under the butter dispenser and pushes the button, causing the butter to spill down and into the straw, where it’s efficiently and cleanly transported to the popcorn at the bottom of the tub. And Roman lifts the straw slightly until he’s sure the middle is coated too, and then gives the tub a few more shakes.

He then proudly lifts the tub up. “There! Now it should all be just as delicious as the top!”

Virgil can’t help but snicker at his dramatics. He grabs his coke and candy, and walks with Roman to their theatre. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Roman doesn’t answer for a moment, his smile seeming a bit more forced now, before blinking twice and responding “my mom. She was a stickler for making sure the popcorn was all properly coated. Before the butter machines were moved to the self-serve counter, she used to terrorize the concessionists to make sure they did it right. Everyone was relieved when it became a do-it-yourself thing.”

Virgil bumps lightly against Roman’s side as they walk, and neither of them say anything more.

Once they get to their seats, the lights have already dimmed and the trailers are playing. Janus and Logan are talking between each other, but both greet the duo when they arrive. Virgil sits between Janus and Roman, with Roman and Logan sitting on the outsides. They’re in the middle of this otherwise completely barren auditorium, making it feel a lot more vast than it actually is.

All of the previews that play are brightly-coloured, animated PG films that Virgil really has no interest in, but Roman sets the popcorn in his lap and then whispers in his ear a variety of praises, ranging from “the animation in that one is extremely experimental, and I really like it,” to “the CG there looks kind of average, but I’ve heard the story’s going to be really good,” which encourages Virgil to pay more attention to the preshow. He starts to notice the nuances in character movements he wouldn’t have picked up on otherwise, or certain words that the characters say that apparently allude to earlier movies, and when the previews end, Virgil almost wishes they weren’t late getting here so he could have seen more of them.

The lights in the theatre darken completely as the movie starts, with all four of them reclining their seats back to get comfortable. Janus reaches over to take a handful of popcorn. And then the studio’s logos flash across the screen, leading into a live-action film with a very bubbly undertone, similar to Mary Poppins but somehow even more whimsical.

“What’s the plot of this movie again?” Virgil quietly inquires as the main character - presumably Marjorie - starts singing.

“Marjorie falls into another world and has to adjust to the crazy rules implemented there,” Roman explains, as he takes a sip of his coke. “Think about like… Where the Wild Things Are but with less of a ‘home is where the heart is’ moral. This is more so about how being curious is a good thing, with a dash of learning to question authority.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “That feels like a rather complex message for a musical.”

Roman smiles wide. “I know, right?! People think kids are a lot dumber than they actually are. A lot of them internalize the actions of those they look up to, including figures in media! If they see Marjorie questioning ‘well, why do we do this?’ then they’ll mimic it, which’ll help them learn more about the world! It’s actually really thoughtful…”

Sensing there’s more to that sentence, Virgil goes to ask Roman to elaborate, but he hears Roman’s phone vibrate against the seat before he can.

Roman’s cheeks go red in embarrassment as everyone turns to look at him, and he apologizes as he quickly fumbles to pull it out. He doesn’t silence his phone as he clicks it on, instead checking a notification. Virgil doesn’t mean to snoop, but can’t help noticing a message that says ‘You have to come over. You’re a kid, Roman, you have no choice in the matter.’

Roman’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the spit in his mouth before he shuts his screen off and slides it between his thighs, so that he can feel it if it goes off again, but so it won’t make a noise. He then turns back to Virgil with a weak smile.

“Sorry,” he says, “what was I saying?”

“Kids will echo what they see in movies?”

“Right! Yes, well… not every child has a good role model to look up to, which is why some kids grow up acting… bad.” Roman sounds like he has someone in mind. “Of course, you’re responsible for the things you choose to do, but not everyone knows better, if that makes sense. Sometimes it’s all they’ve seen. And that’s why people like Marjorie-” Roman waves his hand towards the screen, where Marjorie is in the middle of skipping through her daily routine, smiling at the people she walks past and buying a hot dog for a kid who lost his money, “ -are more important than people realize.”

Staring, Virgil just watches the way Roman’s eyebrows crease. He’s still smiling, but he doesn’t look happy.

“... Do you wish there were more people in the theatre?” Virgil then asks.

Seemingly surprised at the question, Roman doesn’t have an immediate answer, but after a moment nods his head. “I do. Though, this movie has been out for a while. There was a chance it was popular when it first came out, and the lines slowly dwindled as more and more people came to see it.”

“That makes sense.”

Roman seems pleased at Virgil’s understanding, and then turns back to the movie. He takes some popcorn into his hand - letting Virgil keep the tub even when Virgil attempts to give it back - and tries to stay focused on the screen.

But as Virgil watches Roman in his peripheral - weirdly focused on him instead of the film - he watches as Roman checks his phone again. And then again twenty minutes later. And the third time it happens, and Roman unlocks his phone, Virgil can’t help but read over his shoulder.

He can’t see well in his current position, but he does see ‘...if you don’t, I’ll take David back to court’ followed by ‘do you not love me? Is that why you won’t come?’ and then ‘it’s that failure of a brother of yours poisoning your mind. You know I love you, Roman, I just want what’s best.’

Roman starts typing, but his thumbs quickly still. When Virgil looks up from his phone and to Roman’s face, he sees tears welling up in Roman’s eyes.

Hearing the faint vibration in Roman’s hands, he turns his attention back to the screen to see ‘I’m your mother, Roman.’

Phone screen shaking slightly, Virgil can see that Roman’s trembling. His other hand is pressed over his mouth, and he’s fighting back tears - a feat that is only impressive for a few seconds until inevitably they fall past his cheeks and onto his laps with every blink of his eyelids. He’s silent, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less… terrified. His chest rapidly rises and falls, as if he’s struggling to breathe. If Virgil could hear him, he’s sure Roman would sound like he was gasping for air.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Virgil reaches over and sets his hand atop Roman’s, subsequently covering up the screen.

Roman immediately turns to him with wide eyes, and is quick to turn away again to wipe his face. He smiles at Virgil - a smile that’d be rather convincing under different circumstances - and opens his mouth to apologize, but Virgil is shoving the half-empty popcorn tub into Roman’s hands before he gets the chance.

“Let’s go get a refill,” he whispers, and Roman shuts his mouth and nods.

Virgil grabs both of their drinks as Roman carries the tub out, and they convene at the self-serve counter. Roman’s quiet, and Virgil is at first as well, until he’s done filling their drinks up.

“Are you… going to take the popcorn up for a refill?” Virgil asks, which has Roman - who was just staring at the tub - nodding absentmindedly. His thoughts are clearly elsewhere, and Virgil can imagine why, so he walks beside Roman as they pass their popcorn to the concessionist. It’s filled and handed back, but instead of going back to the movie, Virgil guides Roman to sit on a bench right outside their auditorium.

He then passes Roman his coke. “Drink,” he instructs, and Roman does. Then, he picks up a few pieces of popcorn and brings it to his own mouth, before motioning for Roman to do the same with the simple encouragement of “eat.”

That has Roman shaking his head. “I’m not hungry right now,” he replies, sympathetically.

“Eat,” Virgil further pushes. “Trust me… just for right now. At least a handful. And then you won’t have to eat anymore if you don’t want to.”

Roman looks unsure of Virgil’s words, but he doesn’t seem to have the energy to argue, and so does as Virgil wants and eats a handful of popcorn. He chews slowly, and wipes the excess salt on his pants, but after he’s swallowed he looks back towards Virgil.

“Why’d you want me to eat?” he asks, and Virgil can see that though Roman’s eyes still shimmer with noticeable wetness, they’re at least not filled with full-on tears.

Sighing, Virgil scoots a bit closer to him on the bench, letting their shoulders touch. “It’s… it’s like…” Virgil struggles for a moment, as he places his own drink between his thighs, resting his hands on the sides of it and rubbing over the condensation that drips slowly down the sides. “It’s like… a grounding mechanism? Typically when people get anxious or panicked it triggers a primal fight or flight response, even if there’s no one to fight and nothing to flee from. And because it’s a response that we had hundreds of years ago to protect us from danger, there are sometimes really simple ways to calm down following it. So your brain thinks ‘hey, if we’re running from something, we don’t have the time or safety to stop and eat,’ so if you sit down and eat something, it can help calm you down because your brain will realize that if you’re safe enough to eat, then you’re safe overall…” Virgil folds his hands around his cup, and weakly adds “does that make sense? Logan could probably explain it a lot better than I could… but it typically helps me, so I thought maybe it’d help you.”

Roman’s quiet, but after a moment eats another few pieces of popcorn, and then gives Virgil a closed-mouth smile. “Yeah. It helped.”

Virgil glances towards him, away, and then towards him again.

“We can… we can go back into the theatre if you want. Or we can stay out here. It’s up to you.”

Roman smiles wider, more embarrassed this time. “It’s up to you, actually. I’ve seen this movie before.”

“You have?”

Roman nods. “I didn’t want to just tell you outright because I didn’t want you to think I’d be bored by the film or anything, but I came to see it when it first came out. I love animation of course, but I also love musicals, and this movie was getting high reviews from critics so I thought I’d come and see it myself.”

Virgil reaches for some popcorn. “And you liked it enough to come see it a second time?”

“Yes.”

When Virgil doesn’t respond to that immediately, Roman awkwardly laughs and ends up further insisting “but really it’s only because there was nothing else playing. If you and Janus and Logan didn’t come to the movies, I probably wouldn’t have bothered with it.”

“If you like it, then there’s no problem with you coming to see it again.” Virgil squeezes his coke, and ends up playing with the straw with his fingers. “When I was little, I used to have a stack of burnt DVDs. Apparently they belonged to my mom, but a lot of the movies were kid films, so they were entertaining enough to keep child me occupied. Well, one of the DVDs was The Nightmare Before Christmas. I don’t know if you can tell, but that’s exactly the kind of movie I would like.”

Roman chuckles at Virgil’s words, and so Virgil relaxes further against him.

“I watched it over and over again on loop. Of course, there were skips caused by scratches on the back of the disc - I was a child after all, and was left with a DVD that had no case to go with it - but it was watchable for a good long while. So believe me when I say I get wanting to watch a movie you like a few times over. Sometimes multiple watches help you appreciate nuances you didn’t see before.”

Roman’s hand creeps into Virgil’s lap, slowly guiding Virgil’s fingers away from his cup and entwining their digits together.

“I think you’re very smart,” Roman says, quietly. “Thank you for sitting out here with me. Even though I totally would have generously gone and got us refills myself if you’d have let me.”

Virgil snickers, and pushes Roman away, saying “well, in that case, I’m sure you won’t mind properly buttering the popcorn then.”

Huffing, Roman stands with the tub. “You just want to get me off the bench.”

“Oh? Are you not feeling so ‘generous’ anymore?”

“You’re lucky I-”

Roman cuts himself off abruptly, cheeks going dark red, and gives Virgil a proper, cheeky smile as he scoots off without another word. Virgil watches him from afar as he heads down the hallway, and leans a bit to try and catch bits of Roman’s body peek into view as he moves about the self-serve counter.

He’s so caught up with watching, in fact, that he doesn’t notice Janus and Logan leaving the theatre until Janus taps him on the shoulder, startling him and causing him to nearly crush his drink between his thighs.

“You missed the end of the movie,” Janus says, as he grins at Virgil’s embarrassed display.

“Got too caught up talking,” Virgil admits in reply, grumbling under his breath. “Didn’t realize how long it’d been.”

“Shame,” Janus says, “Mary’s growth throughout the movie was truly spectacular.”

“Marjorie,” Logan corrects, “but I’m inclined to agree nonetheless. I really admire her inquisitive attitude. I think it’s very realistic to question rules in a new environment, especially considering how odd some of them were.”

“What about the music?”

“For an original soundtrack, not too bad,” Janus answers. “I think jukebox musicals are guaranteed to sound great if proper music is picked out, so I’m always a little skeptical when a movie makes its own songs, but these ones weren’t horrid. Maybe a bit too cheesy, but nobody’s perfect.”

Logan reaches for Virgil’s drink, which Virgil hands to him. “I personally didn’t care much for the music. I never understood why characters will randomly burst into song and everyone will treat it like it’s normal… it’s absurd!”

“It’s fiction,” Janus says with a laugh, as Roman comes back to them.

“Oh…” he breathes, as he sees everyone convening around the bench. “Is the movie over already?”

“It seems that way,” Virgil responds, as he pushes himself to his feet.

Roman frowns, but it’s a very overdramatic pout as opposed to any real disappointment. “Well that sucks! Though, I guess now we have popcorn for the road…” he hums in thought as they begin walking towards the exit. Janus and Logan - having stolen Virgil’s cup - fill it with what they want before they leave, and then they all get to Roman’s car.

It’s only once the car’s turned on that Roman suddenly lights up, and turns in his seat so that he’s facing everybody.

Motioning wildly to the popcorn tub he’d set on Virgil’s lap, he excitedly proposes “what if we all came back to my house for a movie night?! My dads and I can hook up a sheet in the guest room, and I’m confident we have a bluetooth projector somewhere! And that way we can play whatever we want!”

He looks between each of their faces with cute anticipation, which has Virgil brushing his bangs out of his face as he’s the first to answer “sure. I don’t have anything else going on tonight.”

With Virgil’s confirmation, both Logan and Janus answer with affirmative “sure, why not?” and “that sounds pleasant” respectively, which has Roman happily patting his hands against the steering wheel in a rapid battering pattern. He’s nearly shaking with sheer delight, which Virgil can’t help but smile at as he relaxes in the passenger seat and pops a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

Roman opens his phone to put on some music for the ride home, connecting it to the speakers and setting his phone carelessly in his cup holder. It’s unlocked, and the screen is on.

Halfway through the first song, Virgil barely hears the phone vibrate over Roman’s belting to some cheery love-song, and instinctively glances towards it. When he does, he sees the words ‘I’ll see you next weekend’ followed by a singular period - sent separately from the prior sentence - only for the message notification to disappear up into Roman’s notification bar, reduced to just a little text icon. And suddenly Virgil’s prior pleased mood melts away, because something about that message has his hands clamming up.

It makes him feel uncomfortable. It makes him feel sick. It makes him feel dread.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #agp fic #prinxiety #prinxiety fic #ts virgil #ts roman #fluff #roman sanders #virgil sanders

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