Well, not too freaky, but today I thought I'd rec fics that made me go WHAA?!? (and not just because I didn't read the tags)
Can You Hear Me Singing? by @lemurious
Rating: Gen
Pairing: Tom Bombadil/Goldberry
Other tags: AU, <5,000
All of these stories are short, and I don't want to spoil the twists, so for this one I'll just say, it's Tom Bombadil/Goldberry ā OR IS IT?? Lemurious always has interesting premises, and this one features not only a twist on Tom, but also on Goldberry.
sandbox ambivalence never dies by @thishour
Rating: Gen
Other tags: family feels, <5,000
I'm so sorry, I might be doing the same summary for all of these stories. Celegorm and Maglor have a conversation in Valinor ā OR DO THEY?? Their brotherly digs shift into something darker, and your sense of place is eroded, until at the end you're just as untethered as the characters.
To be Fearful of the Night by Drag0nst0rm
Rating: Gen
Other tags: family feels, AU, <5,000,
This story starts with the premise that if Thuringwethil is a vampire, and exchanging blood with a vampire transmits the curse, what happens to Luthien? That's not the only twist here though! Morgoth has been quite creative with the transmittable mutations...
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Samās plating the eggs by the time Nathan and Elena stumble downstairs. They look pretty much dead to the world and Sam blinks at them like heās stumbled across a pair of zombies.
āHey, uh. I madeāā
Nathan pushes past him, makes a beeline for the coffee pot. Heās still in his boxers, with a white tee thrown over his torso, and goes through a series of motions that look nothing short of mechanical.
Sam steps to the side, out of his way, feeling very much like heās intruding on a routine. He fidgets in front of the stove, is careful not to touch the eye heād just clicked off.
Heās still tapping his knuckles together, awkward and unsure of what to do, when Nathan turns around and jolts.
āJesus,ā he says, coughing because he breathed in a little too sharply. āI didn'tāā He smacks a hand against his chest. āI didn't see you there.ā
Sam quirks an eyebrow, picks up one of three plates sitting on the counter.
āI made breakfast.ā
It's nothing special. Bacon, scrambled eggs, toast with butter and jelly. He figures it's the least he can do to pay them back for ⦠well, everything.
Not that breakfast erases a mad trip around the world made under false pretenses, but it's a start.
Nathan blinks at him a couple times. The coffee pot gurgles in the background.
Elena comes up behind Sam, lids heavy with exhaustion, and reaches a hand up to lay on Samās shoulder.
He leans into the touch, eyes drooping a bit because heās perfectly aware that sheās doing everything she can (Nathan, too) to make him feel at home. And, sure, itās kind of awkward intruding on their lives like this, but, hell, they asked for it.
āThanks,ā she says, grabbing the plate from his hands. Her throat visibly constricts with all the effort it takes to sputter out a single word so early in the morning.
Samās eyebrow lifts. Didnāt these kids know about early birds and worms and all that?
Elena slides her hand away, then saunters over to the couch, flopping down like sheās participating in a trust fall. Itās a weird kind of graceful, Sam thinks. Kind of sloppy. Kind of reminds him of Nathan.
His little brother isnāt far behind, hands full with two mugs of coffee. He sets them on the coffee table, then heās heading back to the kitchen, sidling around Sam to grab a third mug in a different cabinet. Yeah, there was no rhyme or reason to where they put what, and Sam had found that out earlier, scrambling around trying to find the right utensils to cook with.
Nathan thrusts the warm cup into Samās fidgeting hands. He grabs the other two plates before Sam can protest, and treads on over to the sofa, tilting his head for him to follow.
āYou cominā?ā Nathan says. His voice is shot to shit.
āYeah, Sam, thereās plenty of room.ā Elena pats the cushion next to her, and of course itās in the crack of the couch, because Nathan, the little asshole, sits down on the other side.
Itās somewhat of a squeeze, at least for three grown-ass adults, but Sam doesnāt mind. Likes the contact, knees knocking against knees, if heās entirely honest with himself. Heās a pretty tactile guy, likes to touch, and thirteen years in prison meant the only contact he ever got was his fist connecting with someone elseās face (or vice versa). Even the parade of women sliding in and out of his life after Rafe bought his freedom wasnāt enough to make up for all that time alone.
He props himself up on the edge of the couch, back cracking when he leans forward. Starts scarfing down food like itās gonna disappear if heās not quick enough. Out of the corner of Samās eye, he can see Elena cradling her coffee between trembling fingers (hint of blue beneath her nails, cold). She gives it one long, exaggerated whif, humming in the back of her throat. Damn if it isnāt endearing. Samās got a little tilt to his lips, like heās accidentally caught something genuine. Cute.
āSo,ā he says, tongue rubbing along his bottom row of teeth. āYou guys conscious yet? Because I swear Iā I thought you were gonna eat my brain right outta my head when both āa you traipsed down the stairs.ā
āMm,ā Elena mumbles into her coffee, drawing it away with a slurp. āLucky for you, Iām on a strict no-brains diet.ā Her elbow finds contact with Samās ribs.
āYeah, uh-huh,ā he says, rubbing his side. āThatās what they all say. Until your headās cracked open and youāre, you know. Gettinā your brain nibbled on.ā
Nathan snorts into his own cup, and Sam beams at him.
āYouāre soāā Nathan waves a hand. āLame.ā
āOh, oh, Iām lame, huh?ā
āWithout a doubt.ā
āIāll have you knowāā
āWill you, now?ā
āIāll have you know, that every girl Iāve ever met falls right for those zombie jokes.ā
āShe mustāve gotten a concussion, then.ā
Sam pinches his brotherās side, quick-like, and Nathan yelps and Sam can feel the way Elena vibrates next to him, trying to hold in her laughter, and, yeah. Yeah, this is good.
It takes some convincing, Sam canāt deny that, and in the end itās his little brotherās wife that sways his initial decision.
āI couldnātāah.ā He scratches the back of his head while he scuffs the toe of his boot against the dock. āI donāt wanna impose on you lovebirds.ā
Elena whaps him on the shoulder (the injured one, Jesus). She hits harder than expected, so heās left rubbing the ache out with gentle fingers, staring at her a little, yeah, a little hurt. Eyebrows up, in pursuit of his receding hairline.
āYouāre family,ā she says, worrying her bottom lip. A pause, teeth freeing sensitive flesh. āAnd, hey. You think Iām done listening to those embarrassing stories about Nate? Nuh uh. Not a chance.ā
āHey,ā Nathan says, eyes cast up to the sky, a groan rumbling its way out of his chest.
Sam canāt help the grin, the instinctive search through various pockets for his pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out, slides the filtered tip into the side of his mouth.
āWell, as tempting as that might be ⦠ā The cigarette waves up and down while he talks. Heās quick to notice Nathanās balled up fist, not quick enough to dodge the light tap on his arm. Sam sidesteps after the gentle touch grazes his shirt sleeve. Little bubbles of laughter slip out. āIāve got, yāknow. Other things. Lotta catchinā up to do.ā Fingertips fish inside another pocket, make contact with cold metal.
He dips his head, cups his hand around the lighter so the flame doesnāt snuff out before he can light his cigarette. Long draw in. He blows smoke out the other side of his mouth, so it doesnāt get in anyoneās face.
Heās already talked to Nathan about this. Itās not time for him to settle downānot with thirteen years of prison putting his life on hold.
Samās pretty confident heāll get away with it (not that heās getting away with anything, heās just trying to live his life), but Elena steps into his line of vision and sheās ⦠well. Sheās pretty damn tough to say ānoā to. Not when she carries herself like the whole worldās wrong if it disagrees with her.
āCome on, Sam. Just a couple weeks?ā Sheās persistent, heāll give her that.
It sounds like a request. Samās about ninety percent sure heās not allowed to turn her down, but at least it sounds like he can. Plus, those sweet wide eyes are staring up at him, all kicked-puppy-like. He definitely, definitely knows itās a ploy, but that doesnāt stop the way his gut clenches at the thought of disappointing her.
He turns to Nathan, pointedly, looking for some backup, but the smarmy little bastard only holds his hands out, palms forward, and takes a step back.
āHey,ā Nathan says, āIām on her side here. As much as I want you to get a chance to do your own thing, I could stand having you around.ā
āYou could stand it, huh?ā Sam takes another drag on his cigarette, blows out smoke through his smile.
āDonāt get cocky, didnāt say for long.ā And Nathanās got his hand around Samās bicep, suddenly, giving it a squeeze. Playful warning, reassurance, all swaddled up together.
Samās got another excuse on the tip of his tongue. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, holds it between his middle and index fingers.
āGive us a week, at least,ā Elena says. Her fingers circle his wrist and tug hard. āWeāre not taking ānoā for an answer, alright?ā
He stumbles in her direction, throws a look at his little brother.
Nathan grins, follows behind them to the taxi.
*****
The first night home is awkward.
The flightās long. Way way way too long. Samās antsy and purposefully annoying the entire time. There are a lot of stops, layovers, and in the final stretch, Sam occupies the middle seat of a three-person row just so he can sling his arms around the pushy couple and regale them with Panamanian prison culture until theyāre grossed out and pleading for him to stop.
Touchdown in New Orleans.
They stop at a convenience store on the way home, to buy an air mattress. Sam tries to convince them itās unnecessary, he can just sleep on the couch, really guys, but theyāre having none of it.
Heās too exhausted to pay much attention to his surroundings by the time they get home. While theyāre setting up the mattress in a guest-room-turned-office, he attempts one more shaky attempt to convince them to let him crash on the sofa (no, no, I donāt wannaālisten, I donāt wanna be, like. A bother. And weāre all runninā on fumes here. Give me two minutes alone and Iāll pass out on your living room floor, honest).
They ignore him, attach an air pump, plug it into the wall, and let the room fill with piercingly loud noise. Sam leans against the doorway leading to his own (temporary) private bathroom. Fingers shaking for a nicotine buzz.
Elena fits sheets onto the squeaky blue air mattress while Nathan drags out an assortment of blankets from their bedroom closet. As soon as theyāre done, Elena gives Sam another hug, Nathan pats his shoulder, and they retire for the night.
Sam undresses down to his boxer briefs, falls into the air mattress, and immediately everything becomes very, very awkward.
Heās on the verge of surrendering to the void when he hears muffled conversation across the landing between both rooms. He canāt hear the words, but itās clipped. Staccato and heated, and he remembers, oh yeah, he got Nathan into some deep marital shit with this whole adventure. Built on lies, no less.
Whoops.
Itās really none of his business, but he canāt help how he instinctually strains to hear. Are they talking about him? Was Elena just being nice, earlier, with that whole āstay with us for a whileā bit? Does she hope heād refused just one more time, to let her off the hook?
Sam clenches his eyes closed and is still hypersensitive to every little sound, when the noises ⦠change.
It takes him a moment to place it.
Thump. Groan.
His eyes shoot open. The rubbery mattress whines its protest with how fast he pulls the covers over his head.
Well, I mean, he thinks, clapping his hands over his ears, because he does not want to add āhearing his little brother have sexā to his Things To Tell My Therapist Once I Actually Get a Therapist list. Thatās one way to resolve an argument.
An Understanding Passed in Silence Ā Sterek || 4,464 words
It started off as something of a joke. One moment he was talking Scottās ear off about some homework assignment and Scott made a joke that Stiles couldnāt spend a day without talking if he tried.
Louis lifts a brow in his direction and shakes Harryās hand. āYouāve seen some of my movies? Didnāt think you were into my kind of films, mate.ā
Harry squeezes Louisā hand once before he lets go and lifts a shoulder. āShouldāve clarified that, I guess. Iām a big fan of you, actually. Nice cock.ā
[harry and louis are porn stars. harry is louis' first boy.]
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