#are not yet at their expiration date and I just made a very large omelette perhaps these eggs in particular are just very eggy

[sunforgrace]

supernatural: the long road home retrospective was like when the canary collapses in the coal mine

[mercurymetals]

i could never be alone

I apologise for how long this took @rose-obsidian. Writing yan!Bruno is honestly so difficult for me, I just can't do my man dirty like that... So please forgive me, but this is 100% self-indulgent fluffy domestic Bruno content. I went full in on the caring reader vibes tbh. There’s just like... a 2%, barely-passable yandere bit at the end.

Warnings: None. But skip this one if you don’t like fluff.

You can barely contain your excitement as you reach out to knock on the door. It's not often that you come over to visit your boyfriend - not for a lack of wanting on either side, but because he rarely gets a day off, spending most of his time outside with his team, or in that favourite restaurant of his. Most of your time together is spent in there too, which can be awkward considering his teammates often hang around on the other end of the room, throwing amused glances your way.

But today is different. In the morning you woke up to a text from Bruno asking you to come over when you're up. You immediately flung yourself from the bed and made a mad dash for your closet. You didn't bother making yourself look too fancy, just presentable enough to leave your house, and practically speed-walked the entire half hour of a journey to Bruno's place.

And now here you are, unable to stop yourself from smiling as you wait by his front door. It's been a little while since you've last seen him, as he was away from Naples on some business. You don't know the details of what he does, but you never inquire too deeply. Bruno doesn't seem to enjoy sharing about it either, so you don't prod. What matters is that he's back, and clearly has earned himself a rest - a rest which he is choosing to spend with you. You couldn't be more happy about that.

After a few more seconds, the lock clicks and the door swings open. You are greeted with the sight of Bruno in a loose white T-shirt, and dalmatian-patterned pants that you recognise to be a part of his pyjamas. He's also wearing similarly-patterned slippers.

He opens his mouth to greet you, but you don't give him the chance. You throw yourself into his arms, clumsily pressing your lips to his as a way of saying hello. Bruno is surprised for a moment, and then you feel him laugh against your mouth as he returns the kiss, embracing you in his arms. He pulls away just enough to quietly say your name, then leans in to kiss you properly, tenderly, his lips fitting perfectly against yours.

"I missed you," you say when he pulls away again, and he smiles.

"So I see," he says, tugging you inside the house and closing the door. "I missed you as well. Come on."

The two of you make your way to the living room, where the small television is currently playing some news program. You suspect Bruno switched it on more for background noise than anything, given his extremely limited TV license (a discovery that left you highly disappointed the last time you visited).

The rest of the room is bare of anything interesting save for layers of dust on the shelves. You drop your bag on the sofa and turn to Bruno. "Let me help you out with cleaning a little."

He blinks. "What? No, I did not invite you here to do my chores for me--"

You roll your eyes. "Oh please. Dusting a little won't take that long. Just let me do it, and then we can relax for the rest of the day."

It's not that you're crazy about neatness, you just want your boyfriend to have a decent space to come back to every evening, at the very least. The place is modest, but the lack of memorabilia beyond a few photos in the bedroom makes the house feel lonely and vacant. It's really no wonder he doesn't like staying here much.

Bruno gives you a measured look, but finally gives in. "Alright. But in that case I'm helping, too."

There's no point arguing with him, so both of you dig through his kitchen cupboards until you find some old dust cloths and cleaning spray bottles, and then you get to work.

The announcer on the television is currently discussing the rising problem of drug abuse in Italy, which is far from an exciting soundtrack to do chores to. Bruno seems to think the same, for he reaches for the remote and switches it, leaving it on some pop music channel.

As it soon turns out, dusting to the tune of Survivor blasting in the background can in fact be very motivating, and what was supposed to be a quick sweep through the room ends in a full-blown house cleaning session. Spring started last week, so you reckon it's only appropriate.

Once you're done dusting, you set to the task of sweeping the floor, while Bruno searches for a vacuum he's sure must be somewhere in the house. His search is briefly interrupted when you decide to passionately lip-sync to Lady Marmalade, using the end of the broom as your microphone.

At one point you get really into it, and perhaps get a little inappropriate with the broom. Bruno tries hard to stifle his laughter, but loses the battle when you try to lean on the handle sexily and the brush slips against the floor, causing you to lose your balance. You only just manage to catch yourself from falling, and Bruno makes a passing comment about teaching you the ropes someday. You take note of this to question him on another day about.

When you're done with the living room, you move on to the kitchen and wipe all the counters down. Then you go through each cupboard, throwing out old and expired products (mainly tea bags and unused spaghetti noodle packets years past their expiry dates; and on one occasion an ancient jar of tomato sauce which neither of you dare try opening). You are unsurprised to see Bruno's fridge is largely empty, but you still go through it and get rid of a couple of stale vegetables, and a bottle of ketchup so old you can't even get it to spurt anything out when you test it.

Two hours and some more poorly done performances by yours truly later (although you do manage to rope Bruno in on singing I Want It That Way with you, which ends in a nice make out session that is then tragically interrupted by you going into a sneezing fit from all that dust in the air, much to Bruno's amusement), everything is tidied up and sparkling clean.

But you're not done yet.

You insist on going grocery shopping, intent on cooking dinner for tonight. You know one of the reasons Bruno loves that restaurant of his so much is because he's never really had the time to learn how to make anything more complex than an omelette, and you intend to treat him to something nice after having forced him to spend half his day off doing chores with you. All that said, Bruno doesn't seem to mind this turn of events, going along with your plans with a smile and no complaints.

But both of you feel a little icky after all that work, so you decide to take a shower together before leaving. It's a bit of a squeeze to fit both of you in the cubicle, but you're not in a particular hurry, and you enjoy a companionable silence against the hot stream of water, cleaning up with slow, relaxed movements, careful not to disrupt or bump each other.

Your favourite part is when Bruno quietly offers to wash your hair for you, and the feel of his long fingers soothingly massaging your scalp is nothing short of heavenly. You don't think you'll be able to stand the idea of having to wash your hair by yourself after that experience.

The shopping trip itself is brief but enjoyable. Bruno lets you pick out most of the products, although you have a disagreement when you try to add some apples to the cart, which Bruno vehemently refuses to purchase. You give it up, but promise you'll change his mind yet on the delicious fruit in the future.

Back at his place, so soon as you're done putting the groceries away, you send Bruno off to the living room for a break. He's insistent on wanting to help you out, but you're more insistent on the fact he's useless in the kitchen and anyway it's really not a big deal, you like doing this kind of stuff. You get a feeling he's not entirely pleased to be leaving all the work to you, but he does as you say and you have the kitchen to yourself.

You've known Bruno long enough to know his tastes, and you set about making a risotto using his favourite porcini mushrooms. With having to prepare the rice and the broth, it takes you about an hour to finish, and you take a few minutes towards the end to grill some scallops as a side dish, since you know he loves them.

You're almost done setting everything on the plates, when Bruno walks into the kitchen with a yawn. You smile. "Took a nap?"

"Yes... But tesoro, whatever you made smells amazing."

You grin in satisfaction. You do feel a little guilty for having tired out your boyfriend all day, but at least you'll be making it up to him with this.

A few minutes later, you discover your cooking not only smells amazing, but tastes it as well. You're glad you managed not to botch it, and you and Bruno clean your plates in no time, enjoying a glass of white wine each to go along with it. Bruno is particularly delighted by the scallops, and you watch him eat them with an uncharacteristic excitement. You wonder how long it's been since he's treated himself to something he likes, but you don't want to bring the mood down, so you don't ask about it.

You finish your evening by curling up on the living room sofa together, limbs tangled and your head resting on his chest as some cheesy romantic movie plays on low volume on the TV.

But there's something on your mind. Something that even after a whole day together, Bruno hasn't brought up.

You put your hand on his chest, and run your fingers on the open part of his jacket, tracing the patterns of the black lace against his skin. You can tell he's looking at you now, but he still doesn't say anything, so you speak up first. "Caro... Don't you have something you want to tell me?"

The text you got that morning mentioned there was something he wanted to discuss. You were so excited to go over and spend the day with him however, that it nearly slipped your mind entirely. Until now.

There's a beat of silence, but Bruno gives in quickly. "Yes. I do." You think he's trying to find the right way to say it, and he speaks carefully when he finally continues. "You've heard of what's been happening recently around Naples. The streets may not be as safe as they used to be any more. Being with me automatically puts you in danger..."

You suddenly feel uneasy. He's not... he's not about to break up with you, is he?

"...But at this point, I prefer it to the idea of you being all by yourself."

You shift so that you can meet his eyes. "What do you mean?"

He's frowning. "You live alone, tesoro. I don't like that."

You tilt your head. It's true that you live on your own, but... What exactly is he getting at?

Seeing your expression, Bruno clarifies: "I think I'd like you to stay here with me. Permanently."

You stare at him for a long moment. Permanently? He wants you to move in with him? Well, that's... That's a little sudden. You don't hate the idea, but you're not sure if you love it, either, for a variety of reasons, which you soon try to explain to him. "Bruno, living together would be lovely... But you don't exactly spend much time here. Besides, my place is much closer to my work."

"I can take you to work, and pick you up afterwards. Or if not me, I can send someone from my team," he argues, and you recognise that tone of voice. It's one that tells you he's made his mind up about something. Normally when you hear it, you don't bother arguing back, knowing Bruno is prone to staying committed once he makes a decision.

"Your workplace should be safe, but as for where you stay... I feel more confident about being able to protect this place, than worrying about your safety from far away,” Bruno tells you earnestly.

You chew on your lip, mulling over his words. Even if he's right, it's just a little unexpected. You didn't exactly come here ready to give up your old lifestyle. But... he does have a point... But also... Argh, you really can't decide on the spot like this!

Bruno sees your hesitation, and sighs. "Look, tesoro... Vita mia... Let me put this another way." He holds you tighter, a loving but firm embrace. "I'm not letting you leave here again. Even if I have to keep you here by force."

You don't reply to that, slowly lowering your head and pressing your cheek to his chest. Well... He's probably not actually serious about that last part, but you find it moving that he cares this much. And, looking back on the day you shared together... Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, to turn this house into a place he wants to come back to. To turn it into a home.

"Alright," you agree quietly. "I'll move in with you."

Bruno relaxes against you. "Good." His hand starts petting your hair gently, reminiscent of that time in the shower earlier today. You lean into the touch, closing your eyes.

"But Caro... I didn't bring any clothes with me, or anything..."

"I'll lend you something of mine. Come on, let's get ready for bed."

How could you refuse that? You let him pet you for a little while longer, but eventually the two of you slink off the couch. Bruno switches the television off, and tugs you along to his bedroom. You follow after him rather happily.

[sserkets]

JohnDave Fae Folk AU - unedited draft

A stupid JohnDave AU that wasn’t good enough for JohnDave week so I wrote some shit and posted it. It’s not enough for my AO3, and it didn’t work because Dave is not the kind of talker to explain things he just likes to fuckin talk

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Things on John’s to do list today had not included driving home three hours on a week day. He had class to go to, a study group to meet, and a date tonight, but of course, that entire plan had gone out the window the moment the police were knocking on the door of his dorm room. His room mate about shit himself. His father was missing, they said. He’d been missing for an unknown amount of time. Based on what they were told by Johns home police station, people questioned said they hadn’t seen him in at least three days, but it could have been as long ago as three weeks. There were no leads, no signs of kidnapping, and his car was still in the driveway. He was gone without a trace. John guessed he was lucky they woke him up so early, because three hours of driving was hard on him. What was harder was arriving to an empty house. His father should have been home. John’s father was his only family, and they were close, always had been. He would have told John is he was going somewhere. He also would have cut the lawn, and blacktoped the driveway again, and pulled the weeds from flowerbeds but none of that had been done. The lawn looked like an unplowed field. Crabgrass had taken over every crack in the pavement and there were trees growing in the already over planted flower beds. Luckily, the inside of the house was cleaner but… still different. John’s father liked typical guy stuff. Business and golfing and cooking for one, but all of the household items had been replaced. Instead of family photos, large, dark purple amethyst prisms took their place. Dried vases of flowers littered every surface. A large amount of clocks had appeared on every wall, the ticking noise threatening to drive John crazy. His first move was to turn them all off. His second was to throw out all the flowers and open the windows to clear out the pollen, and then cut the grass. By then, it was midday, and some lunch was in order. Not that there was any available to him, the refrigerator held only expired food. This wasn’t like his father, not like him at all. When had the last time John spoke to him been? John ran and got McDonald’s, and when he returned a detective was sitting in his driveway. The detective told John basically everything the police had already told him, his father had been missing an unknown amount of time and there were no leads. The detective also interviewed John, but he didn’t seem suspicious of foul play. The sun set around six that night. John took out the garbage and went to bed in his old room. It was a bit lonely, in a house that had almost always held the companionship of his father. John got to sleep finally, after hours of laying awake wondering just what had happened. The next morning, when John woke up, he’d almost forgotten why he was there. The smell of bacon frying wafted up the stairs, and as John got up out of bed, he could hear the pan sizzle. He wasn’t alone anymore, and there was only one other person with a key to the house. John rushed downstairs, prepared to hug his father and ask where he’d been, what had happened, find answers, but he was unpleasantly surprised. Standing in his kitchen was not his father. Standing in his kitchen was a boy, about his age, with impossibly blond hair. More eye catching, however, were the points to his ears, and the clothes he wore. Like he wasn’t from here. Like he was from the Middle Ages, dressed in a royal purple tunic, with black trousers on underneath. He looked up from his pan of thick cut bacon, and smiled. “Sup, I’m Dave. Nice to meet you.” “Uh,” John deadpanned. “I made you breakfast, I mean, you can probably see that.” “Uh?” John muttered, his shoulders drooping and his expression confused. “Real articulate, ain’t you?” Dave raised his eyebrows, and John noticed right then his eyes were red. He wasn’t from here, defiantly not. People didn’t just have red eyes. “Take a seat,” Dave suggested, using a fork to pull the bacon from the pan and place it on a paper towel to cool. He turned then, going to the toaster just as it popped up. John did sit down, on the nearby bar stool, watching Dave as he worked. The stranger pulled an unlabeled jar of honey John knew wasn’t his father’s near him, and slathered it all over all four slices of bread that appeared. He placed it on a plate, next to an omelet the size of John’s head, and then piled the bacon on thick on top of all of it. He slid it in front of John, still smiling. There was a clean fork nearby, and John used it to cut open the omelet. It was filled with all sorts of things, green pepper, cheese, onion and tomato. It was seasoned with something John couldn’t place, and it smelled like it belonged in a five star restaurant. “Dig in,” Dave grinned. Instead John paused, staring at the insides of the omelette for a moment before he placed his fork down and looked up, meeting Dave’s gaze with uncertainty. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?” “Names Dave, I told you. And I’m making you breakfast. Made. This is some grade A memory loss you got here if you can’t remember something I told you five seconds ago,” he replied, sort of smug. “Yeah, okay,” John pressed, losing his patients, “you’re Dave. Fine. But who are you?” “Oh. Who am I?” John could hear the difference in his tone. “I got sent here to replace your father.” “Replace my father?” John parroted back, much more urgent. “Hey, easy tiger. He’s fine,” Dave said, but he hadn’t urged John’s trust yet. “He’s with my court queen. She really likes him.” “Well don’t you think I could have him back?” John countered quickly. “people don’t just up and disappear, what’d she kidnap him? Are you trying to kidnap me?” “Whoa, whoa, you got the wrong kinda Fae, bud. I’m not here to kidnap you, and he wasn’t kidnapped either. He went willingly. The queens a pretty lady, you know?” Dave wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “The way is it with Fae, if someone is dependent on you, we can’t just take. He wanted to go with my Queen, I wanted out of court knighthood. I make a better house keeper anyway. I’m too pretty for armor.” “What is Fae? What’s a court? Stop acting like I know what you’re talking about! Tell me where my dad went!” John stood up, prepared to get in his face. Dave took a step back, raising his hands as if he was going to surrender. “Hey, hold on. Don’t get mad. I mean fae as in Fairy folk. Fairy folk, and like, we belong to a court with a king, a queen, with knights and all that good stuff. Except, my king is dead and my queen was in some serious puppy love with your dad,” Dave explained, his tone sincere. “I left the court so they could be together. They were pretty happy.” John’s expression softened and very slowly he sat back down. He believed him. John knew his father hadn’t had good luck with ladies, and John’d thought his father had given up. “He didn’t mention he was leaving,” John huffed. “I was worried. I didn’t get to say goodbye.” “He wasn’t exactly allowed to say anything. Plus, it’s not good bye forever, Dude. You’ll still get to see him,” Dave looked sympathetic. John’s eyes fell on his rapidly cooling breakfast. It was quite nice of Dave to make it for him, even if he wasn’t going to finish even a half of it. And… it did look good. He wasn’t exactly mad at Dave anyway. In fact, mad was a strong word. Frustrated was better. “How about,” John cleared his throat, “I finish eating, and then we talk about it?” Dave smirked. “Sounds good.”