🤍🌷 happy 1st birthday to what’s probably the fluffiest silliest most feel-good thing i’ve ever written in this fandom
nice to meet you, where you been?
aka. 12k of meeting again later in life schmoop featuring soft-ass steve, smitten trans!eddie, and hellcheer bestieism that is to die for
“Steve Harrington?”
Eddie would cringe at his loud voice or the sheer and absolute bewilderment that can probably be heard three blocks down, but he’s too busy rewiring his brain.
“Uh, hi,” Harrington says, pulling black nitrile gloves from his long fingers and dropping them into the bin before fixing Eddie with a mildly amused but definitely confused look. “Can I help you?”
No. No he can’t. Eddie cannot be helped, because apparently Harrington isn’t even here just to get tattooed, but instead— No. Nah man. That can’t be.
“What are you doing here?” Eddie says intelligently after a whole lot of staring, dumbfounded.
Steve looks around for a second, doing all those face gymnastics he always used to do in high school when he was trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
“This—This is my shop?”
It should be insulting, the way he enunciates every word like Eddie needs the whole world explained to him in very slow, very easy words. Which, actually, he might, because apparently the world is a really fucking weird place in which Steve Harrington wears pastel sweaters and owns a tattoo shop.
Eddie is pretty sure he hit his head. Or stepped into an alternate dimension. Or both. Considering his luck on, like, an existential scale, it’s probably both.
“No way, man,” is all Eddie says, and this time Harrington is really leaning into the amusement, though judging by his face, he must also be wondering if Eddie requires medical attention. The jury’s still out on that one, though.
Harrington looks around his shop again, squinting at Eddie with that fucking smile still in place. “This… is not my shop?” Oh, he is sassy. Mister pastel-wearing sassy man Harrington, who is smiling at Eddie in a way that is entirely too contagious.
None of this makes sense and Eddie just sags, tearing his eyes away from the vision of Harrington in his bright clothes, the golden afternoon sun catching in his hair as a light breeze comes in through the window.
Eddie crosses his arms in front of his chest, because if he doesn’t, he would probably do something stupid like play with his hair or hide behind it. And Steve shouldn’t have that power over him anymore. They aren’t stupid teenagers anymore, and he does not have a crush on the golden boy!
“I might sound like a complete dick right now, but finding out that Steve ‘The King, The Hair, The Legend’ Harrington apparently inks people for a living was not on my bingo sheet for this week. Hell, even for this lifetime, I think.”
read the rest on ao3
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you're a walking disaster and yet-
—I'll follow in your wake.
Patrochilles | 148k | Modern AU | Ch. 23/23
Summary:
"You'll meet my son, Achilles, soon," Mr Pelides told Patroclus on their drive there. "You two will get along just fine. He's as wild as they come, though." The indulgent pride with which he said the words made them sound almost like a compliment. "Don’t let him talk you into anything."
Patroclus blushed as he swore, with strong conviction, that he would absolutely not do that. No sir.
He knows better than that.
Or: Achilles is a threat and a menace. As they grow up together, Patroclus falls for him anyway.
Read the complete work on AO3!
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