"Jesus christ... Richie?" said Eddie as he opened the door.
"That's my name" richie replied "at least it was the last time I checked"
"What are you doing here?" Eddie asked ignoring Richie's sarcasim
"The truth is I missed you. Even though you are a huge dick now you used to be my best friend and I really wanted to see yo-" Richie started but he was cut off by the soft warming feeling of Eddie's lips on his.
"Eddie... I'm dating stan." Said Richie pulling away fast
"Fuck stan." Said Eddie pulling Richie into the house and slamming the door.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Stan and Mike chat:
Fridge boy: i hate Eddie but i think i need to be friends with him again so richie dosnt hate me. Advice is needed.
Microwav: um random but okay. I'd say do it, go over to eddith's house and try and get along.
Fridge boy: hes a little dick thought.
Microwav: yes, yes i know but it's about time you two made up.
Microwav: let him back in Stan. you and richard are the only two stubborn fucks keeping the losers club appart.
Fridge boy: okay but if this blows up in my face you're the one fixing it.
Microwav: yes my dear staniel i will be here to kiss it all better
Fridge boy: ew homo.
Microwav: thats what you are boy o3o
Fridge boy: this is assult im leaving.
Microwav: bye bye babe.
(Fridge boy left the chat)
---------------------------------------
Stan stood on Eddie's front porch waiting for the small bit of courage he needed to dart foward and knock on that stupid red door.
He knocked.
Stan heard footsteps coming from inside the house.
The door opned.
Eddie was there.
So was Richie.
Sitting on the couch.
With no shirt on.
"What the fuck." said stan
A/n: sorry for my shit writing abilities.
YOU ARE READING
Delivered.
FanfictionThe chats between the losers club and the party. some shit goes down, some breakups happen, some people almost die, you know, just normal, everyday events. Mainly Reddie and Stenbrough (at different times btw lmao) and some other ships fluff but som...
