#happy tolkien reading day!!!!!!

[southfarthing]

some snippets from the return of the king concert!!!!!!!!!!! for me the highlights were the shire themes at the end and the soloist 😭 but I was too far gone at that point to film lmao you're just going to have to take my word for it

[sunderedseas]

“Saruman rose to his feet, and stared at Frodo. There was a strange look in his eyes of mingled wonder and respect and hatred. 'You have grown, Halfling,' he said. 'Yes, you have grown very much. You are wise, and cruel. You have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitter-ness, in debt to your mercy. I hate it and you! Well, I go and I will trouble you no more. But do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither. But that is not my doing. I merely foretell.'” — Scouring of the Shire

[invisiblewashboard]

Small Child’s Thoughts on “The King of the Golden Hall” Part 2

Someone named Wormtongue probably would spend a lot of time on the floor. Worms don’t have legs so they lay on the floor.

Hey Mama? It’s been a kind of long time since we read this together and I forgot some things. (Do you want me to remind you of what happened last time?) Um. No. I remember Wormtongue and it seems like that’s maybe all that is important.

Hey… yeah! Where is the Ringbearer? Did this book just forget about Frodo and Sam?

Putting Éomer in prison was a very rude thing to do. You should not put good guys in jail. That’s not what it’s for.

Wormtongue is leaving? Oh well. I thought he was important but maybe not.

A lot of these names sound the same. Éomer. Éowyn. Éomund. That’s confusing.

(You did not have much to say about this chapter, Small Child.) Well, it’s just because I was thinking about trains. (Wow, really? I am so shocked.) Mom, are you joking right now? (Yes, love.) Ha! Yeah, I knew that. Because you know I am always thinking about trains.

[isablooo]

Feeling bittersweet because I finished reading lord of the rings 😭🙏🥺💫 but also that means it's time for Tolkeins translation of Beowulf LETS GOOOO

[shierak-inavva]

happy valentine’s day 💛

nobody could help me decide on a ship to doodle so….😂

here’s elowen struggling (almost as much) as i did 😭💦

[unclewaynemunson]

If there is one thing Eddie Munson is good at, it's hyperfixating. He can spend hours upon hours wholly entranced by whatever it is that has his attention, whether it's a newly discovered band or a book series he's reading or some random new interest he likes to immerse himself in. It's something Steve, who himself has the attention span of a goldfish, will never really understand, but that's okay: even without understanding it, it's one of the things he loves about Eddie.

Some of Eddie's obsessions fade just as quickly as they appear, but others stay with him for years. So when he reaches a 1000-day streak on Duolingo learning Elvish, Steve has a surprise for him: two tickets for a Lord of the Rings convention in Chicago. The second ticket is not for Steve – they enjoy their own separate interests just fine without the other's involvement – but for Dustin, and the two of them wave goodbye to Steve with a suitcase filled with nerdy costumes and matching excited sparks in their eyes.

Eddie returns a few days later filled with stories about all that he and Dustin got up to.

'Guess who we met at the convention,' is one of the first things he tells Steve. He's bouncing around with excitement, too impatient to even wait for Steve's first guess. 'The guy who created the Elvish Duolingo course! And guess what? He lives in Indianapolis! I'm having lunch with him next week!'

And it's cool, Steve is happy that Eddie met his hero and made a new nerd friend out of him, he truly is – until Eddie shows him the picture that Dustin took of the two of them.

Here's the thing: Steve is not a jealous person. Not at all. He knows that jealousy is a gross thing to feel and he can't even imagine not trusting Eddie. But... he had not expected Eddie's lame nerd idol to have amazing hair, a lip piercing, and muscles in all the right places. The guy looks like a freaking model. And usually, that wouldn't bother Steve – he knows he's not exactly ugly himself – but usually he doesn't have to compete with guys who speak Elvish fluently.

'You should come with me, we can all hang out together,' Eddie suggests. 'I'm sure you'll love him.'

Steve is hesitant about it, but Eddie refuses to take no for an answer, and that's how Steve ends up at Vikram's house for lunch two weeks later.

Eddie gasps loudly when Vikram leads them into his living room, clutching a dramatic hand to his chest in true Eddie fashion. Steve knows it's not all theatrics, though: there's no way a room like this wouldn't genuinely impress Eddie. It's dark and filled with big leather furniture. Framed posters for various metal bands and horror movies hang on the walls. There are shelves filled with big fantasy books, and every corner of the room has a display cabinet filled with what seem to be collectors' items for various series.

If Steve had been hoping for Vikram to look more like a stereotypical nerd in real life, he would be severely disappointed: the guy looks amazing in a leather jacket that would fit perfectly in Eddie's own collection and black skinny jeans that show off a truly amazing pair of legs, making Steve feel oddly self-conscious about the couple of pounds he gained since he left his high school sports days behind him.

While they're having lunch – Vikram bakes his own bread and it's so good that Steve doesn't think he can ever stop eating – Eddie and Vikram enthusiastically talk each other's heads off about all things Tolkien. Steve, on the other hand, grows more quiet as time passes, not really following along and sure as hell not able to give any contributions to the topic at hand.

'Did you ever try to learn some Sindarin as well, Steve? Or are you more of a Quenya guy?' Vikram asks him in what is no doubt a well-meant attempt to include Steve in the conversation.

Steve hastily swallows a big mouthful of bread and feels his cheeks heat up.

'I never read those books,' he sheepishly confesses.

'Oh!' Vikram's eyes widen and Steve can practically see him think: You never bothered to show any interest in one of your boyfriend's favorite things?

'Well, I mean, I tried,' Steve rushes to explain himself. 'But I um, I couldn't really keep my attention to it. They're a bit difficult to read. For me.' Somehow, explaining it only makes him feel worse about it.

'Oh, yeah, I get it, man. Those books aren't for everyone.'

There is no meanness or hidden insult behind his words. But Steve only feels more like an outsider while Eddie asks Vikram some incomprehensible question that has Vikram giving an in-depth explanation about the difference between two words that literally sound the same to Steve's ears. And when Eddie laughs about a joke that goes way over Steve's head, then says something in that stupidly beautiful nerd language which prompts a laugh from Vikram in return, Steve is reminded in full force how ugly of an emotion jealousy is.

They say goodbye – Eddie says something in Elvish again and Steve has to watch Vikram laugh a joyous laugh about it again – and Steve is quiet during the drive back home.

'Is something wrong?' Eddie asks when they're home, perceptive as always.

'No,' Steve lies.

'Stevie, c'mon.' Eddie studies Steve's face intently, a frown between his eyebrows just barely hidden by his bangs. 'What's going on?' Something in his expression shifts. 'Wait. You didn't like Vikram, did you? Did you hate him?'

'No, I didn't hate him!' Steve is quick to say. 'He's awesome, Eddie, he's perfect and smart and funny and perfect.'

Eddie narrows his eyes like Steve said something weird.

'Why did you say he's perfect twice?'

Steve huffs and runs a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. 'Just drop it, Eddie.'

'No, I'm not dropping it.' Eddie crosses his arms. 'What are you not telling me?'

Steve sighs. 'Okay, I didn't want to bother you with this, because it's my problem and not yours, and jealousy is an ugly emotion, but–'

'You're jealous of Vikram?'

'I mean, he's like, super hot, and he has this cool house, and he loves the same things as you, and you can speak your cool nerd language with him, while I'm too dumb to even read your cool nerd books and–'

'Steve,' Eddie interrupts him. 'You have no reason to be jealous.'

'I just...' Steve pauses, pinches the bridge of his nose. He finally manages to voice the thought that has been eating at him ever since he met Vikram. 'I don't want you to wake up someday and wish that you were with someone as smart as you are.'

The way Eddie's breath catches is barely noticeable. Then, he reaches out and gently places his hands on Steve's shoulders.

'I am with someone as smart as I am,' he says softly.

Steve scoffs.

'No, it's true,' Eddie presses on. 'Okay, so you don't enjoy reading Tolkien, and you don't speak Elvish. I don't care about that, man. I love the way you think. I love your inexhaustible knowledge of weird sports facts. I love how precise you are about weighing ingredients when you're baking something. I love your through-the-roof emotional and social intelligence.' He lifts one hand off of Steve's shoulder to pet his head, almost as if he's some kind of animal. 'You got a pretty big brain in there, no matter what you tell yourself, Stevie. And that's why I love you, more than anyone who speaks Elvish fluently.'

Steve tugs Eddie closer until their bodies are pressed against each other, his arms around Eddie's waist and his head resting on Eddie's shoulder.

'I don't think anyone has ever called me smart before,' he quietly admits.

'Well, I'll do it more often, then,' Eddie replies. 'Cause you are.'

(I wrote this because @undreaming-rambles has reached the unbelievable milestone of a 1000-day duolingo strike today. obviously that called for a silly fanfic celebration moment, congrats on your incredible perseverance aneta 💖 and credit where credit is due: this one was inspired by an episode of my beloved comfort show brooklyn 99)

[glorf1ndel]

Okay, Tolkien fandom. It’s time. Fellowship assemble. March 25th is the day Frodo and Sam (and Gollum) destroyed the One Ring! Sorry, Sauron, but it just wasn’t working out. Happy Destruction of the Ring Day! 💍 🔥 🦅 ✌️ It’s also Tolkien Reading Day, so be sure to leaf through your favorite Tolkien book today. 📚

[leidensygdom]

AI bros from hell

Hello! Do you have a bit of your time for a story on AI bros and clients from hell? I bring a really fun one!

I met this guy at a con I was tabling at over a year ago, before AI was a thing. He said he enjoyed my art, and inquired me about whether I did book illustrations. I said yes- He was specifically interested in my bigger pieces, the fully rendered and detailed ones. He agreed to send me later a DM to discuss specifics.

For two weeks, he kept DMing me on details about his book, what he wanted, etc. He wanted full illustrations for inside the book as well as a cover, all of them fully colored, painted and rendered. He also wanted illustrations in this style to post on social media to promote the book. I had warned him that something like that would be costly, but he insisted that he needed this to be the best of the best.

Now, I was getting bad vibes from the guy. I shit y'all not, his instagram handle was "The next tolkien". I wasn't however gonna refuse a job opportunity. Now, he finally asked for prices: He had reassured me he was willing to pay fairly for this. Since he's a starting author, I gave him my non-commercial quotes, which are much, much, much lower than the standard for book illustrations. I mean "if you search for how much this costs on google, the lower prices are x5 times more expensive than what I offered".

The guy, upon receiving that, just ghosted me. Immediately unfollowed, didn't reply me with a "sorry, I can't afford it" or "sorry, i was expecting to pay $10 for a full rendered full background several-characters-picture". Nothing.

The other day I decided to search what he was up to. He's now released... THREE books for this series. There's a single review in the first one. Not even written, just a stars one. Also, notably, he had a webpage put together promoting the book, and. Yeah.

All the art is AI crap.

Which makes sense. My guy was very on his high horse about how fantastic of a writer he is, but I guess art isn't really to be compensated fairly. When he saw the "art stealing machine you just pay a subscription for", I'm guessing he was very excited.

So, uh, here's some of the marvelous pictures he generated of the characters, which surely tell you about how great the book is. AI is theft, so I don't give a f*** about reposting it.

I have a lot of opinions about creators who write, draw or make music, who are more than happy to use AI for other stuff- Album covers made with AI, writers using AI crap for book illustrations, artists using AI-made music. It feels like you're sh*tting in any other artistic field and showing how little you respect anyone but yourself. Like, I'll be honest, I don't have interest reading a book from someone who considers that other forms of art aren't real or worth any money. It just tells me you're devoid of any interest for art or humanity.

As an ending note, his instagram description is "More closer to god than to human", which does add to the clownery.

[autumnhobbit]

sometimes i like to think about the fact that tolkien wrote the definitive ending for each of his characters. if you’ve only watched the movies you probably haven’t heard of or read the appendices to lotr, which contains some details that didn’t really have a spot in the books’ narrative official, like aragorn & arwen’s love story and courtship, and the eventual fates of all the main players.

a lot of stories are self-contained and focus on a certain part of the character’s lives. their childhood, their teenage years, their 20’s 30’s 40’s, until their happily-ever-after and all else is left to the imagination. for some stories, that’s what they need and it works and you can rest easy knowing the characters made it and they’re alright now and they will be alright when we say farewell to them and go our separate ways.

and tolkien made the interesting choice to tell when and how each of his characters died. and it’s not like some stories where an unnecessarily sad death comes unnecessarily into a story for shock value or extra drama. the whole of lotr is seeped on death and decay and especially on passing away. the elves are leaving never to return and one day the world will forget they ever existed. their beautiful homes and joyful songs and eons under the trees forgotten and nothing more than a ruin and a memory that no one who saw them will even be alive to remember. the men of numenor come back from near extinction but even as their descendants go on there are still only a few who will remember the ones who were really there. so it’s perhaps understandable that tolkien chose to write the happy ending. the real happy ending.

the happy ending that was exactly what each character needed and what you would want for each character. they each live full lives with the ones they love, all their greatest dreams and hopes realized. aragorn and arwen marry, eomer becomes king of rohan, the hobbits return home and sam builds the family he wanted with rosie. and yet gandalf leaves, and frodo goes with him, and though there is joy there is parting, and it breaks your heart. and it feels very adult because isn’t that the truth of adulthood? you meet people you love and you live and you see each other whenever you can, and time passes and you go your own ways and though you remember them and love then you live your life and then one day it’s over.

and so tolkien wrote the ending and it’s exactly what you think each character would do and how it would go. and i think about sometimes the wisdom and the life experience needed to write the whole life of each character, how and where they died and who was with them.

[mynnub-blog]

Remember when I promised to draw the fellowship? XD

Happy Tolkien Reading Day!

[sotwk]

About This Recommended Fics List:

All the Tolkien fanfics in this list meet the following qualifications:

Fandom: All-inclusive Tolkien (LotR, Hobbit, Silm, RoP) Type: One-shot Length: approx. 1,000-6,000 words Ship/Pairing: Any, including OCs and Reader Inserts Rating: G or PG-13 Content: No excessive angst, violence, or death. No unresolved stress. Happy endings only!

Disclaimer: I (@sotwk) have not personally screened all of these fics for their content. There may be triggers. Please read descriptions, take responsibility for your own media consumption, and observe the Golden Rule: Don't Like, Don't Read!

Link sources are either Tumblr or Ao3. Some Ao3 works are locked to registered users only.

This list of comfort fics is a collaboration and compiled through the recommendations of Readers. Thank you to everyone who contributed!

This remains a work in progress, and I will continue to accept recommendations. Please send them via DM, Ask, or Reblog. We need more, please!

Last updated: 1/23/2024

THE LORD OF THE RINGS

Aragorn

Hush Now by @entishramblings

Mirage @sileastral

Boromir

You’re the one who’s calling me to heaven by @cauliflowertree

A Shield Against the Snow by @scyllas-revenge

A Thief in the Night by @scyllas-revenge

The Floor Is Molasses by @scyllas-revenge

Anything But This by @minaturefics

Elrohir

Just a Little Longer by @theelvenhaven 

Elrond

The Weft Between the World by Antarctica_or_bust

Eomer

Alive and Alight by @minaturefics

Fair Enough by @middleearthpixie

Wildest Dreams by @scyllas-revenge

Blue Moon by @epilogue-and-prologue/@absentmindeduniverse

Eowyn

An Idiot's Guide to Gift-Giving by @scyllas-revenge

Faramir

Wrong Conclusions by @minaturefics

Frodo

Arda University by @lady-of-imladris

Over Joy by PurpleProsaist

Gandalf

Days for which they sit and wait by BloodwingBlackbird

Gimli

Mahal's Gift by @lemonsprite

Haldir

Unfairness by @errruvande

Serenade by @glassgulls

Three Weeks on the Nimrodel by @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras

Legolas

Sending Memes by @ironmandeficiency

Elucidative by @shrubdaddy

Winter Forest by @wordbunch

The Cruel Nature of the World by @entishramblings

What Haunts Your Heart by @entishramblings

Lindir

Bottled Up by @heilith

Merry [Seeking recommendations!]

Pippin [Seeking recommendations!]

Samwise

Better Company by @wordbunch

Let Met Take You Dancing by RaisingCaiin

THE HOBBIT

Bilbo

Primary Sources by bunn (@cycas)

Why Hobbits Eat So much by Madkat89

Fili 

Sweets by @blairsanne

Lost My Way by @lathalea

Kili

Sapphires by @lathalea

Catch Her by a_daydreaming_writer

Porridge by @fili-urzudel

Insecurities by @bookworm-with-coffee

Tauriel 

Royal Jar Opener, Reporting for Duty by @unendingwanderlust

Heavenly Inferno by midearthwritings

The Pairing Ceremony by dumbassunderthemountain

You Are My Happy Place by SmartassUndertheMountain

Liantë by WritingsOfAHobbit

Thorin

In The Woods of Ered Luin by @enchantzz

A Long Lost Home by @babe-bombadil

Dead End by @fizzyxcustard

The Arrival by @lathalea

Strong by @lathalea

Thranduil

Nothing by @entishramblings

Goodnight by @heilith

Under A Starless Sky by My_Marvel_Musings and RinzlersGhost

THE SILMARILLION

Finrod 

here, at the end of all things by Dalliansss

Glorfindel 

Warmth by @on-a-hill-by-the-sea

Stay the Night by @theelvenhaven

Golden by molerein 

THE RINGS OF POWER

Elrond

My shadows by @thesolarangel

Dating shy Elrond by @thesolarangel

Perfectly Proper by @wordbunch

Haladriel 

Stay by @scriberated

Covered in Colours by myfavouritelunatic

It’s the Last Thing I Wanted (It’s the First Thing I Do) by Helholden

Stay by @scriberated

Covered in Colours by myfavouritelunatic

It’s the Last Thing I Wanted (It’s the First Thing I Do) by Helholden

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

Please remember to Support Your Writers and consider leaving a kudos/like or comment/reblog!

[coriphallus]

A little rant on patch 6 and the implications for bg3's future

Okay, bear with me for a sec its gonna go somewhere eventually. My first bg3 run (thats spammed here on this blog) i played ascended astarion/dark urge romance where i picked the reject bhaal and become the absolute ending.

as it was my first playthrough on release i was vibrating off mt seat and i didnt really have elaborate HCs or anything, i was just doing a quick evil run until the bugs get sorted out. i didn't think much beyond "yes this dude would want the shiny stones for himself"

first time i saw astarion enthralled, i was confused. he asked me to do it, he was quite insistent on it since the beginning of the game. i was confused for a couple of hours, digesting the entire game i just played. Then it hit me; the game was calling me out. it was telling me ive been stupid for not having seen this coming and at that point i felt awe.

it was right, everything pointed to this, it was right in front of my eyes all i needed was to connect the dots that the game laid out quite visibly and i was just too caught up to see.

'well my durge would never do that' didnt matter because thats exactly what the companions thought. Gale thought the powers of an insatiable weave wouldnt corrupt him, that he'd stay true to himself, shadowheart thought shar had blessed and her she'd guide her, that she could be her true self under her influence, astarion thought he'd be free, that he'd cherish the bond he'd made with the player but at the end of the day power reveals; and when that power is acquired through the corpses of thousands its quite evident that Absolute power corrupts absolutely. IT WAS IN THE FKIN NAME.

it was a shining bait i was so focused on getting my hands on that i didn't look back to see the mountain of corpses i had to step on to get there. the game was telling me 'HEY LOOK AT EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE TO GET HERE, LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE OTHERS WHO THOUGHT THEY COULD ACHIEVE THIS, DO YOU THINK YOU'D HOLD HANDS AND SING KUMBAYA WITH YOUR FRIENDS AFTER ALL THIS?'

just as there was never an option where frodo could stab saurons flaming eyeball and sit on his throne with the ring on his finger and sam at his side, there was never an ending i could get my 'happy ending' the way id like it to. i wanted frodo to remain in middle earth and have some peace in the end, i didnt understand how he was 'too changed' to remain and sam wasnt when i first read the books. i was angry even, that i didnt get what i wanted. it wasnt like tolkien haphazardly put together an ending out of his ass bcs he didnt know what to do with the characters, its not that he didn't think while writing that the fans would hate it, he wrote a story that achieved its catharsis by reaching its narrative conclusion. it couldnt have done that any other way. it was deliberate. i may not have understood or agreed at the time but it was the story he wanted to tell, and it wouldnt be one of the greatest stories ever told if the writer wanted to please a 10 y/o like myself.

it was never out of character for my durge at all, i was just blissfully avoiding the NARRATIVE.

months later we get this absolute narrative abomination:

and all i can say is im worried.

im worried bcs this is a clear disrespect to the story they've written, im worried bcs if they can do off with huge plot elements and beats such as this just like that it shows a lack of commitment to their own plot and if a huge Point of the game can be treated like a minor mistake than what else can? was is just a lack of oversight that laezel gets killed under vlaakith? can it be waved off if enough vlaakith loving gith players come together and shout loud enough that they want to ride alongside their queen with their gith gf?

what part of the game is tangible to hold on to, and after two years worth of patches that are made to appease the fans at the expense of the story, will it still be the game i fell in love with?

i dont blame the fans for wanting, i blame the devs for delivering. that they could sacrifice the integrity of a pretty straightforward story bodes ill tidings for the future of this game.

yes i wanted this feature, but i was glad i wasn't given it. i may have been confused and slightly miffed that i didn't get to reign supreme with my evil bf, but i immensely respected the game that could call me out on it. i wish they could show the same respect to their own writing.

[inairbinad]

sweet enough on the vine

🌸 affectionately known as Steve the Botanist 🌸 Steddie | Rated T | 6k | cw: language, making out, and some grinding Read on AO3

Eddie was running late.

That was nothing new, strictly speaking, but after last year’s traffic debacle he swore he’d never be late to his standing dinner date for Chrissy’s birthday again.

And yet there he was, scrambling to find somewhere to buy her a present on the way from his apartment to their favorite restaurant. Eddie was already cutting it close, but if he managed to actually land on something to get her in the next three minutes he was pretty sure he’d be fine.

He’d dodge that same smug and mildly amused Chrissy face this year. There would be no groveling. Eddie was gonna make it.

Stopped at a red light, Eddie’s eyes started drifting. They landed on a vibrant little florist’s shop that sat right up against the edge of the park—the same one that Eddie always looked at fondly from the gay bar across the street without ever actually going inside.

Weathertop Nursery and Florist, the sign out front read, and Eddie wondered if that was meant to be a Tolkien reference.

“Motherfucking duh,” Eddie laughed at himself before pulling over to park.

Was a bouquet of flowers the most original thing he could get Chrissy for her birthday? Not exactly, but there was no denying that Chrissy loved flowers. At the very least Eddie could bide his time with them and buy her dinner, then surprise her with something more thoughtful later.

It wasn’t like Chrissy didn’t know Eddie was forgetful, but she also knew he cared a whole lot, regardless of if his gift-giving skills were lacking. And this time he wasn’t going to be late, so he took a little bit of pride in surpassing expectations as he made his way inside the shop.

It was even more charming than he always expected it to be.

The walls were painted an earthy green color that instantly managed to soothe some of Eddie’s manic energy. Plants and flowers populated every shelf and surface, their happy and well-cared for petals and leaves seeming to greet him as he walked in. There were enough windows and natural light that Eddie almost felt like he was still outside, except for the fact that it was wonderfully cool inside.

There was a big greenhouse connected through a door on the left hand side of the shop and a garden out back, which the sloped windows behind the counter overlooked like a dream. A few people were milling around in both, enjoying the extended daylight now that the first day of summer was so near.

Eddie wished he weren’t in such a rush to get in and out. He thought he might’ve liked to linger in this place for a while and let its cheer sink into his bones. Even more so he wished he was at all good with plants so he’d have an actual reason to be there. Eddie wondered if maybe he could learn as he made his way towards the counter for help.

The guy working had his back turned, the broad slope of his shoulders hunched over what looked like a potting bench. Based on the steady sound of clipping, the man must have been pruning the stems of the pile of pink roses he had sitting beside his right elbow.

Eddie impatiently drummed his fingers against the countertop beside the register, hoping to make this a quick one and done stop. Even in a hurry, he couldn’t help but notice that he liked watching the way the man’s muscles moved beneath his t-shirt even more than he liked the whole vibe of this place.

“Excuse me,” Eddie piped up, probably a little too impatiently. He heard one final snip, and the man finally turned around.

Whatever nerves Eddie had to get out of the shop as quickly as possible died on the spot.

The man that stood before him was an absolute dream—tall, tan, with a full head of chestnut hair that Eddie immediately wanted to run his hands through.

He was pretty sure his jaw dropped, especially when he noticed the guy was wearing a black graphic tee with several plants printed across the chest, each of their pots a different color to make up the rainbow. Almost like it was for Pride.

The way the shirt was probably a size too small didn’t hurt matters, either.

So this guy was dorky, hot, and potentially queer? Eddie wondered if he fell down in his haste to get inside and smacked his head on the pavement. He had to be hallucinating, or at the very least getting ahead of himself. It was June, after all. The dude could just be trying to be supportive.

“Can I help you?” he asked, a friendly smile playing at his lips—which looked perfectly kissable, just to add to Eddie’s distress.

Eddie snapped his jaw shut, trying not to overheat when the other man looked him up and down.

Act normal, dipshit, Eddie told himself as he sucked in a deep breath that smelled like some kind of floral paradise. You’ve talked to pretty people without dying before.

Maybe none so pretty as this guy, admittedly, but Eddie thought he could try. For Chrissy’s sake. Remembering the reason he came in here at all snapped him back to reality a bit.

“I need a birthday gift for a girl who will roast the shit out of me if I show up to take her out to dinner empty handed,” Eddie said, feeling a tad frantic about having waited this long to get Chrissy something.

“I think we can manage to avoid getting you roasted,” the absolutely fucking delectable man who worked there said with a low laugh. He leaned on his elbows on the counter and looked up at Eddie through his lashes, and Eddie nearly swooned. “Are we talking a gift for a girlfriend, sister, friend, or…?”

“Just friend,” Eddie said, then realized how ridiculous it sounded to call Chrissy just anything, and course-corrected. “Best friend, actually. Why? Do you have certain flowers that mean certain things?”

Really, Eddie hoped this guy was just fishing for information about if he might be single.

“I mean, sure,” the man shrugged. Eddie wished he was wearing a name tag. He wanted to feel this beautiful creature’s name rolling around on his tongue. “I’m a firm believer in buying people flowers based on what they like, or what you do, but I can ramble on about symbolism if you want.”

“I’d probably listen to you talk about just about anything,” Eddie admitted freely as he leaned his hip against the countertop. Stopping to flirt would make him late, but Chrissy would get it. He hoped she would get it, anyway, because the smile he got in return made Eddie weak in the knees. “But I know next to nothing about flowers.”

“Seems like a perfect match, then,” the man said with an easy smile. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

And oh, Eddie was definitely done for. He’d be lucky if someone came along to scoop him up off the floor from the puddle he was surely turning into in time to make it to dinner.

“Eddie,” he replied, somehow managing to sound the slightest bit normal. His face had the muscle memory to remember how to flirt, it seemed, because it flashed Steve a dimply grin of its own accord.

“Well, Eddie,” Steve said, still smiling as he made his way around the counter. “How about I show you some cut flowers to start?”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Eddie said, instantly fascinated by the way Steve ducked his head in reaction to the pet name. Eddie didn’t bother to hide the way he tilted his head to admire how nicely Steve’s jeans hugged his ass as he walked them down an aisle overflowing with colorful plants, either.

“Do you know what your friend likes?” Steve asked as he pulled up and idled near a refrigerator full of already cut flowers.

“In movies? Or women? Yes. In flowers? Not so much,” Eddie shrugged easily. Steve barked out a happy little laugh

“I can relate.” Steve barked out a happy little laugh, then turned to point at a container full of flowers Eddie couldn’t identify if he tried. “What’s her favorite color, then?”

“Pink and green,” Eddie said, almost rote in his recitation. Chrissy’s favorite colors hadn’t changed since they were fifteen.

“Perfect,” Steve muttered under his breath. He turned towards the left hand side of the fridge and plucked out a pretty, soft pink flower with a bright, verdant stem and leaves. To Eddie’s untrained eye, at least, he thought it kind of looked like a rose. “Peonies—my best friend’s favorites. And she has great taste in plants and women. Usually.”

Steve offered out the peony, and Eddie stepped closer to examine it. He felt Steve’s eyes on his face as he delicately reached out to brush his fingertips against the velvety edge of a petal. Each petal curled along the edge, folding in on each other in what looked like an endless cascade of feathery clouds towards the center.

They reminded Eddie of Chrissy instantly. They were pretty, sure, but they also had a little bit of extra personality to them.

“They’re perfect,” Eddie murmured, turning to Steve. He was standing a whole lot closer than Eddie realized, and Eddie wondered if there wasn’t a little bit of magic living in this place. “How did you—”

The next in a series of reminders Eddie had set on his phone sounded in his pocket and interrupted him. He groaned, and pulled it out to read his note to himself.

Your ass better be outside that restaurant if not already in it, Munson, it read.

“Shit,” he grumbled. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Maybe get two dozen, then,” Steve said with a teasing grin. “Make it up to her, Munson.”

Eddie felt himself flush as he realized Steve must’ve been reading over his shoulder. It only made him want to shove Steve up against a refrigerator door and kiss him more, somehow. Eddie realized too late that he’d probably buy the moon if Steve suggested it.

“You’re an excellent salesman, you know?”

“Only when I have such handsome customers,” Steve volleyed back without delay. And god, if that smirk wasn’t going to be what finally did Eddie in at the tender age of thirty-one, he wasn’t sure what would.

“Okay, okay, I’m buying the flowers, no need to keep laying it on so thick,” Eddie lamented, nodding towards the container of peonies Steve was already pulling from for him.

“Who said it was about getting you to buy flowers?” Steve asked with a wink. “Come on, I’ll check you out.”

“I thought that’s what we’ve been doing this whole time,” Eddie said, thrilled at how it drew another laugh out of Steve.

“Fair enough,” Steve conceded before leading them back to the register. If Eddie noticed a little bit more swagger in Steve’s gait as he walked, he kept as much to himself. Instead he just watched, utterly entranced by another human after only knowing them for a matter of minutes. Eddie wasn’t sure how or why, but it felt like getting hit by a meteor.

Desperate to do something with his hands or his mouth other than ogle Steve as he dried and then delicately wrapped the flowers in paper, Eddie glanced around the front counter a little. It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on a little display of what looked like handmade jewelry.

“Did you make these?” Eddie asked, zeroing in on a bracelet in particular that he thought Chrissy might like. He did spend enough time listening to Chrissy talk about crystals and rocks to know that the delicate little gem wrapped in silver was moonstone.

“Nope, can’t take credit for those,” Steve said, sounding a little proud when he realized what Eddie was looking at.

“The best friend?” Eddie guessed, and Steve nodded. So he made a decision on the fly and plucked the silver bracelet from where it hung on the rack. “Then I’ll take this, too.”

“Gift wrapped?” Steve asked.

“Definitely,” Eddie said, glancing at the time again. He was already late, so sloppily tossing an unwrapped gift at Chrissy would probably only look worse.

“I’ll be quick,” Steve promised, and Eddie honestly wished he wouldn’t. Instead of admitting it aloud, though, Eddie opted to dig out the cash he owed while Steve boxed up Chrissy’s gift.

“How the hell do you keep all of this alive?” Eddie couldn’t help but ask, still looking around in wonder. There weren’t just flowers on display, but plants of all sorts, and that was just from peeking into the greenhouse without getting started on all the stuff also growing outside.

Steve took the question in stride with a low laugh. “Not a plant guy, I take it?”

“Unless by ‘plant guy,’ you mean an incredible capacity to kill everything I touch?” Eddie asked, shooting for innocently hopeful. He was rewarded for it with another crooked smile out of Steve, which was rapidly approaching the top of Eddie’s list of favorite things to see.

Steve just shook his head and handed Eddie his change. The time to actually leave was suddenly staring Eddie in the face, and he desperately didn’t want to. Eddie decided to admit as much aloud. “Which is a shame, because I really could use an excuse to keep coming back here.”

“Like what you see?” Steve nodded towards the shop in general, but Eddie wasn’t gonna let the implication slide.

“You have no idea, gorgeous,” Eddie practically crooned, feeling sparks light in his chest when Steve flushed just in just the slightest. It was adorable, because surely people had to flirt with this man all the time. But every compliment or pet name Eddie threw in his direction only seemed to affect him more.

“Well why don’t you come back tomorrow?” Steve suggested with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll show you some plants that even you can’t kill.”

Eddie took the promise of seeing Steve again and ran with it, practically floating as he made his way out the door.

“Happy birthday, favorite person of mine!” Eddie said cheerfully the minute he finally laid eyes on Chrissy. He spread his arms for a hug, making sure to hold her flowers and bracelet out prominently. Chrissy accepted the hug and well-wishes with a smile, but Eddie knew there was more coming just from the way she tilted her head.

“You’re late,” Chrissy drawled with her arms crossed, visibly unimpressed from her perch at the table she’d kept waiting for them.

“Chris, you’re gonna forgive me—” Eddie tried as he scrambled to sit down, passing her gifts to her right away.

“That’s a bold assumption,” she interrupted, but brought the peonies up close to her nose with a small smile. “Pretty flowers aren’t enough to forgive you for being late to my birthday dinner.”

“Well sure, but that’s not the only gift I got you!” Eddie pointed out the small jewelry box next with his most charming of smiles. It wormed a slight twitch of the lips out of her, but she narrowed her eyes at him without opening it.

“Being late just so you could buy me stuff seems a little backwards, don’t you think?”

“Well that’s not…” Eddie bit his lip and paused, wondering if Chrissy would forgive him for this after all, “…entirely why I’m late.”

“Aha,” Chrissy hummed with a knowing sparkle in her eye.

“There was this guy—”

“Aha,” Chrissy was all but gloating now. “I assume he was pretty? Dark haired? Athletic?”

Eddie pursed his lips, not exactly loving how he was being called out with such little effort on her part. Eddie figured fifteen years of being best friends would do that, but he wasn’t sure it was entirely necessary. He’d never been happier to see a waiter in his life, who gave him some time to collect himself while they took drink orders.

“Did you get his number, at least?” Chrissy asked before Eddie got a chance to defend himself.

“No, but I’m seeing him again tomorrow,” Eddie preened, and Chrissy finally cracked a smile.

“That sounds promising. Tell me about him,” Chrissy said, settling back in her seat with an expectant look on her face.

“Well he picked your flowers, for one,” Eddie said.

“No shit, you know nothing about flowers,” Chrissy laughed and finally reached for the box with her bracelet. She carefully untied the ribbon with an amount of grace that Eddie wouldn’t have afforded it, then popped off the lid with an expectant smile. That smile only grew when she saw what was inside. “Aw, Eddie! I love it!”

“I picked that. Because I know that moonstone is one of your birthstones,” Eddie bragged, before reaching across to offer to put it on her wrist. She took him up on it happily, so Eddie added, “And I know enough about flowers to know those are peonies.”

“Oh wow,” Chrissy breathed, sounding surprised. “You really must be smitten.”

Eddie opted to look at his menu rather than trying to deny it.

“He was so pretty, Chris,” Eddie whined, two drinks and an appetizer platter later. “I wanted to cry.”

“You should let me come with you tomorrow so I can see him.” Chrissy’s smile was a wicked thing, and Eddie only whined again. Until he remembered something.

“Ohhhh but that won’t be necessary, my dear friend,” Eddie crowed as he dragged his phone out of his pocket. He went straight to the camera roll and stopped at the last photo he took. It was a clandestine, somewhat blurry photo taken in haste so no one would notice him pressing up against the glass of the flower shop like a complete weirdo. There was a glare on the glass that reflected Eddie’s already yearning face rather unflatteringly, but Eddie didn’t really care.

The important part of the photo was the easy way Eddie had captured Steve’s smile as he talked to another customer, and the long line of his tanned forearm as he handed a small potted plant across the counter.

Eddie thrust the phone across the table for Chrissy to see how utterly pathetic he already was, and exactly why.

Chrissy picked up the phone, careful not to touch the screen and disrupt the photo Eddie had queued up for her. The amusement on her face when she finally took it in was palpable, and Eddie had half a mind to hide behind his hair.

“Do you ever get tired of me being right all the time?” Chrissy beamed.

“I admire your consistency, if anything,” Eddie said drily. He was mildly afraid of the way Chrissy’s expression shifted into something curious and appraising next. “What?”

“Just…” Chrissy bit her lip, like maybe she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring it up at all. Then she shrugged and continued. “Please don’t tell me you were late because you went back to work and tattooed his face on your ass already?”

She said it like getting faces tattooed on his ass was some kind of regular occurrence.

“Jesus Christ, that was one time, Chris,” Eddie grumbled. It could hardly be considered his fault that he and the boys got drunk after work one night, and Jeff convinced Eddie to get Gareth’s cute little mug inked into his left butt cheek. And it certainly hadn’t been anything romantic. 

Eddie hadn’t gotten a stupidly impulsive tattoo since (though he was pretty sure he’d given people a few).

“You can’t blame me for asking!” Chrissy argued with a little too much glee in her voice.

“I did not get Steve’s face tattooed on my ass,” Eddie deadpanned for the record. “I haven’t even tried to find his Instagram yet.”

“Oooh!” Chrissy lit up even further with excitement and scooted her chair closer to his. “Let’s do that now.”

By the time Eddie got to the shop the next afternoon, he’d thoroughly convinced himself the beautiful man he’d met the day before had been a mirage. Surely no one was that pretty, just up and walking around this town looking like that while subtly signaling that they’re queer. And they certainly didn’t so blatantly flirt with Eddie while also helping him pick out flowers.

Especially considering his and Chrissy’s resolve to find Steve’s social media had ended up being a big flop. Without more than a first name to go by, all Eddie could find was the flower shop’s official Instagram—which obviously didn’t have much more than plants on it.

It was a great page to promote the business, with very professional looking and tasteful photos. But Eddie couldn’t help but think they neglected to highlight the biggest draw for the place: Steve. There wasn’t a picture of him to be found, and after a cursory glance of the shop’s followers he couldn’t find any usernames or photos that seemed to match the man he’d met either.

If it weren’t for the photo Eddie had taken himself, he would’ve been completely convinced that Steve was a heat-induced hallucination on his part. But that photo did exist, which meant so did the man inside. So Eddie squared his shoulders and made his way into the little store at the front of the greenhouse once more, this time wearing his Iron Maiden crop top for good measure.

“He’s around back,” a woman with a strawberry blonde undercut told Eddie the minute she laid eyes on him. Eddie wondered if she was the best friend Steve had mentioned. She pointed towards a door at the back of the store from her perch behind the register.

Eddie didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the fact that she’d clocked that he was looking for Steve immediately made him hope that maybe Steve had mentioned him. Just like Eddie had spent the night before gushing to Chrissy. 

“Uh, thanks?” Eddie said, already making his way towards the door. “I’m—”

“Eddie, yeah,” she laughed lightly as her bored expression receded. “He told me. I’m Robin.”

“Right,” Eddie felt his heartbeat kick up into a higher gear. “Thanks, Robin.”

She went back to reading a book with a small smirk on her face.

Eddie found Steve out back without much difficulty, trudging around in the dirt in a patch of purple flowers with vibrant green leaves. Today Steve was in cutoff denim shorts, crouched on the ground with his back to Eddie, and giving a perfect view of how the curve of Steve’s ass rested back on his heels. 

And yet somehow, that wasn’t the most interesting thing about the scene. 

What had Eddie most captivated was the way Steve was looking up into the branches of one of the trees bordering the garden and squawking. Eddie followed the line of Steve’s gaze upward, but he heard it before he saw it. A raven was perched on one of the lower hanging branches, apparently talking back at Steve.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said after making a series of croaking noises at the bird looming in the tree line above. “You don’t need me to help feed you, my guy.”

“Are you talking to a bird of death?” Eddie finally asked, and Steve startled. He turned around slowly, with a dirt-covered hand clutched to his chest. He didn’t bother to stand up right away, apparently relaxing when he saw it was only Eddie. 

God, he looks pretty on his knees, Eddie couldn’t help but notice.

“Is that a problem?” Steve asked with that same adorable, crooked smile Eddie had been daydreaming about since the day before. Then his eye’s landed on Eddie’s exposed abdomen and lingered there in the most exquisite of pauses. 

So it had all been real, then. What a fucking trip.

“No,” Eddie shrugged before deciding to let his mouth run away with him. “It’s really fuckin’ attractive, actually.”

The raven croaked again (in agreement, if Eddie had to guess), and Steve ducked his head as he laughed. Then he pushed himself up off the ground and made his way over towards another little potting bench and outdoor sink beside the door Eddie had just come out of. 

Eddie watched Steve wash the soil from his strong hands and swallowed thickly. “Don’t you like wearing gardening gloves?”

“More fun when you can get a little dirty, I think,” Steve smirked over his shoulder before grabbing a towel off the bench.

Eddie’s breath caught, and for a split second he thought he might’ve completely forgotten how to flirt. But somewhere along the way, his innate must-chat-up-the-pretty-person hindbrain kicked in and took over for him.

“Don’t have to be a gardener to agree with that, sweetheart,” Eddie replied, delighted at the way Steve’s shoulders hitched once the remark hit him.

Steve kept his expression smooth, but his perfect lips still quirked up into a self-satisfied little smile. Eddie wanted to skip the pretense and kiss it off his face.

“I’m glad you came back,” Steve said as turned to face Eddie fully again. Eddie matched his stance, stepping just a little bit closer as he did.

“Well, you promised to work miracles, if I recall,” Eddie teased. “Or you just really underestimated how bad I am at keeping plants alive.”

“Let’s go with miracle worker for now,” Steve said, confident yet hopeful in the way he appraised Eddie’s face. Once again, Eddie felt entirely tongue-tied, which was mildly frustrating for someone who usually considered himself a smooth-talker. “Should we find out?”

“Lead the way, big boy,” Eddie said as if he was at all interested in plants. 

Steve looked like he might have a retort for the nickname, but instead he bit it back and smiled. Then he inclined his head in a way that screamed maybe I am, and Eddie felt himself start to sweat a little. 

The feeling only heightened when Steve led them into the greenhouse, which was practically blistering inside. On instinct, Eddie reached for the hair tie on his wrist as Steve led them over to what looked like a whole section of cacti populating a raised bed along the far wall. Eddie pulled his hair up into a loose bun just to get it off his neck as he looked around. There were all kinds of plants in here, including a whole lot of vegetables, and something that with almost shiny leaves seemed to reach out and tickle him when he walked by.

It startled Eddie into looking back at Steve, whom he caught staring in just the nick of time. Eddie wanted to punch the air in triumph as he watched Steve shake himself and drag his eyes away from the curve of Eddie’s jaw. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, voice remarkably calm. Eddie was impressed.

“Yeah, it’s just warmer in here than I expected,” Eddie said, tamping down a smirk. Based on the way Steve wouldn’t quite meet his eye, he didn’t tamp it down all that well. 

“Yeah, well,” Steve scratched the back of his neck and nodded at a cactus. “The succulents like it hot.”

“The succulents and I have that in common,” Eddie winked, doing his damnedest not to make a dirty play on the word succulents. 

Steve’s lack of response other than a faint flush let Eddie’s hearing work in earnest for the first time. Before, his brain had been too busy chanting Steve, Steve, Steve! to really hear anything else from his surroundings, but now the sound of Hungry Like the Wolf finally filtered in through Eddie’s ears. Instinctively, he scrunched his nose. “Do the plants like Duran Duran, too?”

“Well, I like Duran Duran,” Steve corrected, “and I like to think they like what I do.”

“And just when I thought you were perfect,” Eddie sighed, both dreamy and with feigned disappointment. 

“Don’t you like 80’s music?” Steve asked with a playful roll of his eyes. Eddie was relieved he took the jab in stride instead of being insulted.

“I like good 80’s music,” he said, leaning forward to give Steve’s shoulder a nudge. The muscles he felt as a result were solid and delicious beneath his fingertips.

“Excuse me,” Steve laughed, then eyed Eddie’s shirt again. “I’m sure you only listen to very cool rock bands, then?”

“Cool is subjective, Stevie,” Eddie said with a lazy smile. “Some people think plants are cool.”

“That they do,” Steve hummed, and Eddie wanted to sink down into the cadence of his voice like a hot bath. He’d meant what he’d said the day before; he’d listen to Steve talk about just about anything. Even Duran Duran. Thankfully, Steve took the cue to start rambling on about his plants instead of music, though. He patiently explained how he thought Eddie could surely handle something called a snake plant because they were “almost indestructible,” and Eddie sort of drifted off into the lull of Steve’s expertise. 

Eddie wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring like a buffoon at Steve’s lips as they moved, but at some point Steve apparently stopped talking. And Eddie had no idea how long ago. All he knew was that Steve had a cute little confused tilt to his head and he was—for some reason—staring at Eddie’s neck. Again.

“Sorry, what?” Eddie asked, trying to blink the love struck veneer from his eyes. He thought maybe he could use the heat in the greenhouse as an excuse for being completely out of his wits. Really he was just rapidly falling for someone he barely knew, and yet was desperate to know more about.

“Sap,” Steve said, and Eddie’s heart clenched. Was he being so obvious that Steve was calling him a sap already?

“I’d hardly say I’m a sap,” Eddie tried to sound casual about it. 

“No,” Steve chuckled. It was such a warm sound that Eddie thought he started sweating harder. “You’ve got sap on your neck. Looks like from the rubber tree.”

“Oh, I—” Eddie stuttered and started pawing at his neck to try and get it off. Steve just laughed again, and stepped a little closer. 

“Here, let me,” he offered. Before Eddie could exhale a sputtering breath, Steve’s tongue darted out to lick the pad of his thumb. Then he delicately dragged the same rough, damp skin against the side of Eddie’s neck and wiped the sap away. The cool wake of Steve’s spit left a trail of shivers racing down Eddie’s back, and yet he felt like he was on fire. Steve pretty deliberately traced the slope of Eddie’s lips with his eyes before meeting his gaze. “There.”

Eddie wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get himself in so deep in less than twenty-four hours, but there was no denying it now. Then something slotted into place in his mind, a little too late and a lot too dirty.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie scoffed. “Did you just say there’s something called a rubber tree?”

Steve snorted and Eddie knew he’d gotten the joke, at least. Robin poked her head into the greenhouse just as Steve poised himself to reply, though. 

“Hey, I’m outta here, dingus,” she said with a mock salute towards Steve. She spared a smile for Eddie that felt like she saw right through how smitten he was. Eddie wondered how much of that little display she’d been watching through the windows.

“Okay.” Steve didn’t really look at Robin as he spoke, Eddie noticed. Instead his eyes stayed stuck on Eddie. “Can you—”

“I’ll lock up on my way out, like I always do,” Robin finished for him. Her tone was annoyed, but her smile was fond as she ducked back out in a flash.

It took Eddie a moment to catch up to what Robin had actually just said, but he got there eventually. He realized the absolute dearth of other people that were around since he’d walked in. “Wait, you’re closing?”

“Always close earlier on weekends,” Steve said with a shrug.

“So why am I here?” Eddie asked, wondering if maybe he’d gotten his wires crossed or showed up later than Steve had wanted.

“Because you want to be, I hope,” Steve said simply, with more earnest want in his eyes than Eddie had ever had directed towards him before. Despite the fact that Eddie was nearly certain they were about to kiss, and despite all the flirting that led up to it, he still felt floored by it. “Thought it’d be easier to talk without customers around.”

“Aw, if you’d told me this was a date I would’ve dressed up, Stevie,” Eddie trilled, unable to help himself. Steve didn’t shy away though, rewarding Eddie with a roguish smile for saying exactly what he thought again.

“You look pretty good to me,” he murmured, inching ever-closer and brushing the faintest of touches against Eddie’s bare stomach.

Eddie was never happier to have decided to wear a crop top in his life.

He also wasn’t willing to wonder what kissing Steve was like any longer—he needed to know. He reached out and hooked his fingers through the belt loops of Steve’s little shorts and pulled him in until their hips were flush, then Eddie tilted his head just so. 

Steve dove in the rest of the way, his lips hot and searching against Eddie’s own in an instant. Eddie hummed into his mouth happily, and Steve moved to cup his face with those strong, capable hands of his. 

Eager to get handsy as well, Eddie squeezed the curve of Steve’s hip with one hand, then trailed the other right up the front of Steve’s solid chest and around the back of his neck. The faint sheen of sweat Eddie felt beneath his fingertips only served to rile him up further, and he pressed in impossibly closer, until he could feel the steady beat of Steve’s heart reverberating through his own chest. 

Steve shifted just enough to slot his thigh between Eddie’s, and Eddie hissed out a needy little noise that would have been embarrassing if Steve hadn’t swallowed it down with a greedy gasp of his own.

It wasn’t enough somehow, even though it was probably too much too soon by most people’s standards. But Eddie wanted to be entirely overwhelmed by Steve, caught in a tidal wave of taste and sound and smell and want. Eddie prodded at Steve’s bottom lip with his tongue, delighted with the soft, wet swell of it. Steve opened up for him shamelessly, swirling his tongue against Eddie’s in a delicious twist that left Eddie grinding down on Steve’s bare thigh.

“Shit,” Eddie panted, grateful to come up for some air when Steve moved to trailing kisses against his jaw. “Any chance that rubber tree could help us out?”

Steve laughed, his hot breath fanning out across Eddie’s neck like a dream. “Not that kind of rubber, sadly.”

Eddie thought it was sad, too, especially when he could feel the bulge in Steve’s shorts pressed against him, and even more so when Steve maneuvered Eddie until his ass rested against the edge of the raised planter with enough force to send soil toppling over onto the floor. 

Eddie slotted his fingers into Steve’s soft, perfect hair while Steve went back to sucking what promised to be a delectable hickey into the column of his throat. Eddie moaned aloud, not caring how desperate a sound it was, and rutted into Steve again.

“That mouth of yours is showing a whole lot of promise,” Eddie hummed. 

“Just my mouth?” Steve asked just as he rolled his hips against Eddie’s again. He didn’t move his lips from Eddie’s throat, and when Eddie moaned again, he felt Steve’s smile against his skin. 

Eddie tugged Steve back from his neck by the hair, his dick twitching when Steve let out a pleased whimper at the pressure Eddie used. 

“How about you let me take you out to dinner before I have to go home and change my pants?” Eddie asked, unabashed by how turned on he already was.

“I don’t know,” Steve smirked. “You needing fresh pants sounds pretty fun.”

“Stevie,” Eddie whined, completely disbelieving of how this was already going. At best he’d hoped for some more flirting and an exchange of phone numbers, and here he was ready to drag Steve back to his apartment just because that was where the condoms lived. 

Eddie was a little mad at himself for failing to be properly prepared in the first place, if he was being honest. He diverted the subject in an attempt to hold onto a little bit of sanity before he started giving out handjobs to someone he’d just met.

“You don’t even know what I do,” Eddie pointed out with a pout.

“You’re a tattoo artist at the shop a few blocks over,” Steve shrugged, then very deliberately ran his tongue along the tattoo that peeked up above Eddie’s collar and curled around his neck. Steve must have heard the surprise in Eddie’s groan, because he huffed out a little laugh. “Don’t pretend you weren’t also stalking my socials last night.”

It took a long pause for Eddie to remember that Steve already knew his last name, but to be fair he didn’t have much blood flow to his brain at the moment.

“Just the shop’s Instagram,” Eddie grumbled, annoyed that Steve undoubtedly had a whole lot more info on him than the other way around, now. “I couldn’t find yours, but I did try.”

Steve laughed at Eddie’s obvious frustration, low and dark, then went back to teasing his knuckles against the zipper of Eddie’s jeans. “Where did you wanna get dinner?”

“Somewhere we can curl up in a corner booth,” Eddie said, dropping his hand to dance his fingers along Steve’s collarbone. “Where you can sit there, half-hard and thinking about finishing this while I run my hand up your thigh.”

“Eddie,” Steve groaned, a delightful sound that Eddie wanted to hear every day going forward. “Now who’s being a tease?”

“Definitely me,” Eddie smirked as Steve finally pulled away, giving Eddie’s hip a little squeeze as he did.

“C’mon then, I know a place,” Steve said with a wry smile. “If you behave maybe you’ll even get to find out if you were right about the whole ‘big boy’ nickname.”

“Uh, I could already tell, sweetheart,” Eddie said around a laugh, adjusting himself in his jeans as he did. Steve bit his lip and watched, still putting that mouth to good use even when it wasn’t on Eddie. “God, you’re trouble, aren’t you Stevie?”

“You have no idea,” Steve said, eyes full of promise and mischief. Then he held out his hand in offering, and Eddie didn’t hesitate to take it. “Place we’re going has good food and fast service.”

The little wink Steve gave him was nearly enough to make his heart stutter to a stop.

“Excellent,” Eddie cooed, albeit weakly, before allowing Steve to lead him out into the dwindling summer sunlight of the back garden. As they rounded the side of the greenhouse towards the street, though, Eddie heard another familiar croak. He thought he might’ve been hallucinating, but it was a throaty syllable that distinctly sounded like the word sluts.

“Did your raven just slut shame us?” Eddie asked, whipping his head towards the sound, aghast.

“Robin may have taught him a few words…” Steve admitted with a sheepish grin. Then he squeezed Eddie’s hand and kissed his cheek, before leading them off down the street.

Eddie realized he didn’t much care for the commentary of birds—or the fact that he hadn’t actually bought any plants—when he was already having the time of his life.

taglist: @stobinesque @starryeyedjanai @patchworkgargoyle @steves-strapcollection @scoops-stevie @spicysix @soulsofstarsliveinyourveins @bifuriouswaterbender (Just everyone who's previously expressed interest! There will probably be more bits of this AU in the future, so just holler if you want to be added or taken off!)

[mgcoco]

Bilbo is ready for an adventure! Happy Tolkien Reading Day 2023!

[silhouette-cosplay]

Happy Tolkien reading day!! Tolkien is one of my longest fandom loves and I am so grateful that we have both the beauty of the films and the beauty of Rings of Power. I adore both Galadriels and I shall never choose between them! (though Morfydd Clark does have more costumes which I love)

Costumes made by me!

Photos by Sennedjem Cosplay and Alexandra Lee Studios

[unclewaynemunson]

Tadaaaa here is the sequel to this post, which came from an ask that got me in a chokehold for days now so kudos to the lovely anon who sent that prompt to me! You can also read the whole thing on ao3 :)

As soon as Eddie got into the passenger seat of his Wayne's truck, he saw the whole world go blurry. He tried to blink away his tears, but it was no use – nothing ever escaped his uncle's notice anyway.

'Wanna tell me what's wrong, boy?' he asked while he started the car.

Eddie grimaced. 'You know how they say you should never meet your heroes?'

'Hm?'

'Well, I met mine. On the fucking train. Just yet.'

Wayne shot him an incredulous glance.

'What was the Black Sabbath guy doin' on a train?'

'What? No, it wasn't... No.'

'The Hobbits guy?'

'Jesus Christ, Wayne, Tolkien died like fifteen years ago, keep up.'

'You want me to keep guessin' or you gonna tell me?'

Eddie rolled his eyes.

'Yeah, no, you wouldn't guess it right anyway. It's this poet.'

'Don't think I ever heard you talk 'bout poetry before,' Wayne remarked.

And that was exactly the thing. Ronan Right had been something... private. Something between Eddie and the faceless blob in his mind that embodied Right – and maybe Jeff. Okay, and Jeff's mom. But it wasn't someone he'd talk people's ears off about on any occasion he got, like he did with plenty of other musicians or writers that he'd get all obsessive about.

Until Steve, that was. Steve, who had been casually listening to his music. Steve, who had recognized the book in his hands and effortlessly opened the floodgates of his obsession. Steve, who had said the most beautiful things about Corroded Coffin without even knowing who Eddie was. Steve, who had talked with him about their shared passions for hours. Steve, who he now somehow had to merge with Right in his mind.

Steve, who seemed so perfect that it made all of Eddie's alarm bells go off at the loudest possible volume. Because this couldn't be real. This was something straight from a disgustingly sweet romcom scenario, and if there was anything Eddie could be certain about, it was that his life was no romcom.

So during the short walk from the station to Wayne's car, Eddie's head had already come up with a dozen scenarios that were completely spiraling out of control – even though they'd all make for great songs, no doubt about that. Steve would die some kind of tragic death on his way to their first date. Steve was secretly addicted to crack. Steve was a stalkerish fan who had lied to him about being Ronan Right to get close to him. Steve would cheat on him on their wedding day.

The list of possibilities was endless and terrifying – while the list of possibilities for this having a happy ending, on the other hand, was exceptionally short.

'Was it that bad?' asked Wayne while they headed out of the city.

Usually, Eddie enjoyed amping up his dramatics to a maximum around Wayne, providing the much-needed balance to his uncle's calm and steady demeanor. But right now, Eddie felt himself deflate in his seat. He couldn't bring himself to make a show out of it.

'No,' he said, quietly. 'He was perfect.'

And Wayne must've heard it in his voice, must've picked up right away that this wasn't Eddie being dramatic, that something serious was going on here, because he gave him this look that was cutting way too deep into his heart.

'Nobody can be that perfect, you know,' Eddie continued. 'It's impossible. And he – he gave me his number. And I just know that if I call it, and we get to know each other better, I'll get crushingly disappointed sooner rather than later. Because something has to be, like, disturbingly wrong with this guy.'

Anyone else than Wayne would probably tell Eddie that he was being ridiculous, that he should get over himself and call Steve; that he should allow himself to let good things happen to him or some shit. But Wayne wasn't just anyone. Wayne was the one person who knew exactly what Eddie meant. The one person who had seen from up-close the shitshow that Eddie's life had been, who had retained a front row seat through all of it. And he had had his own fair share of misery himself, Eddie knew that much. He was too old and had gotten punched down too many times to still hold naive illusions of the possibility of good things.

So he didn't give him some bullshit advice. He merely patted Eddie's knee and turned up the radio.

---

Ever since Eddie had left Hawkins, it had become a habit of him to stay with Wayne for a couple of weeks every now and then. For all his desires to get the hell out of that town when he was younger, he still spent way too much time at his uncle's trailer. But it wasn't Hawkins that he came back for, it was uncle Wayne.

It was home. And it helped him breathe whenever the city got too intense. Helped him get detached from everything that distracted him from the shit that actually mattered. Helped him get his head right when Chicago was threatening to make him lose it.

Time seemed to move differently in Hawkins than in the city. Slower. More naturally, too, somehow. Maybe it was because of the lack of nightlife and flashing neon signs when the world was supposed to be wrapped in darkness. The fact that he could still see the stars when he stepped out of the trailer at nighttime. Maybe it was the quiet, which allowed him to actually hear himself think. Or maybe it was the predictability of it all: Wayne waking him up with a cup of coffee in the morning, the two of them sharing cigarettes on the porch, Eddie helping Wayne with some chores and then trying to write new songs until well into the night, when the world was his and his alone.

He kept reading Right almost religiously, but it was different, now. Now that he could hear Steve's voice say those words, now that he could envision the way in which the sun shone on his hair through the dirty train window and the shape of his hands clutching a walkman that had Eddie's music in it. It was all different.

After a week, Eddie had a whole album worth of songs about the deception of things that seemed perfect. He hadn't been able to write even one song about things ending well, about things working out. That wasn't his life. Things never worked out. Why would they, for a boy born in a household where the trifecta of poverty, addiction and violence was all he had ever known? In the five albums he had produced so far, he'd never experienced a lack of demons to write about.

So no, he wouldn't be calling Steve, even though he had read the number that was written down on the sleeve of his own album so often that it'd probably be impossible to ever erase it from his mind again. He'd protect himself, this time. He'd cherish the hours he got to spend with Ronan Right, the memories that were already starting to feel like a fever dream, and not let his heart break any further. Not this time. Not again.

---

'Got mail for ya.'

An envelope landed in Eddie's lap.

'What's this?'

'I dunno, 's your mail,' Wayne answered.

Eddie didn't recognize the handwriting and the Indianapolis post stamp didn't give him much of a clue either. It didn't make sense that someone would send him a letter at his uncle's place.

He frowned, roughly tore open the envelope and pulled a single sheet of paper out of it. It was neither directed at nor signed by anyone, but that wasn't necessary for Eddie to know who sent it.

'What is it, boy?' Wayne asked, a worried edge to his voice upon hearing the choked sob that freed itself from Eddie's throat.

Eddie knew that the words were only meant for him. But he and Wayne were a unit, always had been, ever since Eddie moved into Forest Hills. So he wordlessly handed the paper to his uncle, roughly wiping the tears from his eyes.

Wayne assessed the text with a wrinkled forehead, holding the paper at an arm's-length in order to read it.

'That from the boy you met on the train?'

Eddie nodded.

When his uncle looked up from the letter, Eddie caught an almost unfamiliar look in his eyes. It was soft, hopeful. Optimistic.

'You know I ain't any good with words, like you, or this – this poet,' Wayne said. 'But this...' He pressed the letter back into Eddie's hand. 'This looks like he knows you, Ed. Like he sees you. For all that you are.'

He didn't tell Eddie what to do; that wasn't his style, never had been. But what he did say kept bouncing through Eddie's head unceasingly, making him unable to sleep, unable to write, unable to think about anything else.

---

Eddie desperately wanted to say something meaningful when Steve picked up the phone. He wanted to thank him for reaching out, to apologize for being too much of a coward to call earlier – but what came out of his mouth instead was, 'How did you know where to find me?'

'Eddie, is that you?' It sounded like Steve didn't quite believe it.

'Yeah – yeah, it's me,' was the only thing he managed to get out of his mouth.

'Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped,' Steve told him. 'I just – I couldn't get you out of my head and it all felt so right, you know, like fate or some shit, so I just had to... I needed to try. And I knew your name, and that you were staying with your uncle, so I got help from some friends and they managed to find your uncle's address.'

And as if Eddie hadn't been enough of an emotional wreck over the past week, his vision got blurry with tears yet again.

'Sorry, was it – did I go too far?' Steve sounded nervous.

Eddie could perfectly envision the way he would be frowning and anxiously running a hand through his hair; as if they had already shared a whole lifetime of getting to know all about each other's mannerisms instead of a few stolen hours on a train.

He hated the idea of Steve thinking he had done something wrong when all he ever did was so fucking right, so he determinedly shook his head, then realized Steve wouldn't be able to see that, and started scraping for words.

'No, Steve, you... You're perfect. And that scared the shit out of me, because so far, my life hasn't really done perfect. Most of our songs, they're – well – creative retellings of my own shit.' Now that he started talking, the words actually came a lot easier. 'They're all real, at the core, when you peel away the layers of, like, monster slaying and fantasy imagery. Like, everything underneath all that, it's all... me. Damage, betrayal, fear, violence – all that shit is true. Life hasn't been kind to me, Steve. And I was convinced that you'd only become an addition to that long list of crap, because you seemed way too perfect. I never thought I could have something good. And you're good, Steve, you're so fucking good. So I couldn't believe it.'

A long silence ensued at the other side of the line. Then, a sigh.

Then, 'Eddie,' in the softest voice possible, like his name was something breakable. Eddie didn't remember ever having heard his name said like that.

'I think that was exactly what I heard in your songs. Why I kept listening to them. Why they inspired me so much.'

Eddie tried to swallow away the lump in his throat, suffocated by the emotions bubbling up inside of him.

'I wish I could hold you, right now.'

Eddie's breath caught. He knew exactly what he needed to do: he needed to stop running. He needed to trust that Steve could be right, for him. That Steve could be something good.

'I mean, you could come over to Hawkins and do just that, you know,' he suggested.

'D'you want me to?'

He nodded, again forgetting that Steve couldn't see him.

'Yeah, I'd like that. Probably still got half that cookie somewhere in my pocket, y'know. Maybe we could share it.'

Credit where credit is due: the line “He sees you, for all that you are” isn't mine, it's one of my favorite quotes from Schitt's Creek and I really wanted Wayne to say that to Eddie about Steve, so here we have it <3

@ My beloved 🥐 anon: I hope you like this ending, and that I came close enough to your suggestion to have Steve make Eddie a character in his next poem <3

Taglist: @kathorakiryu @goodolefashionedloverboi @undreaming-rambles @fangirlycupcake @ghouligans-central @henderdads @dolphincliffs @anglhrts @ajamlessbaby @yearningagain @vampireinthesun @xxbottlecapx @kissaphobic-kas @mad-h-w @booksandsience @obsessivlyme @ppunkpuppyy @barnes-bestgirl @capital-p-platonic​ @eddiemunsonmeltdowns @callme-keys​​