#and he’s prepared he bought all the ingredients a few candles even got wine and dessert

[lihikainanea]

Hi Lei! What did tiger prepare for Bill's bday??

oh snap that's today isn't it? Ha, I'm so fandom-adjacent these days especially when it comes to that big Swedish peanut head. And in general the first 10 days of August are a whirlwind of emotions for me, because so many men who either USED to hold such a place in my heart or still do are all born between August 1 and 10.

Fucking Leos man.

In any case, I like this idea that maybe they kind of just have to spend his birthday this year apart. She tries to never let that happen but this year it's just kind of inevitable. Bill is filming (maybe the Crow, and maybe tiger like refuses to visit him on set and was very, very against him taking that role to begin with because my girl tiger knows what's up), and maybe she just can't get the time off work or it's not even WORTH it for her to go visit him because he's shooting every day for like 16 hours a day.

In any case, these two idiots are apart for his big day. Bill is so tired and sore he can't even see straight let alone be all emo that he's alone for his birthday, but tiger feels it. She wants to be with him, she wants to spoil her Big Dude and make him feel special and it nearly broke her heart on a FaceTime the other day when he was genuinely surprised that his birthday was in just a few days.

"I completely forgot kid," he rasped, his mouth opening in a big yawn.

"Well I didn't," she muttered, "And I hate it."

But I'll bet she still manages to do something really sweet for him. She mails him an overnight package of some of his favourite things--his coffee from Sweden, and some Lakrids. A bottle of akvavit. Maybe she even sends him a little naughty video--because usually on his birthday she always wakes him up with morning head but since she can't do that, she makes sure he gets a little show anyway.

And like, tiger planned this out man. She liaised with his assistant. She sent them a list. And when Bill got back to his rented house later on that night, a bushel of groceries was neatly unpacked and washed, a cutting board set out, a bottle of good red wine aerating, a bottle of champagne chilling, and a nicely set table with candles waiting. On it was a simple note, in tiger's writing.

Call me xo

He smiles as he does so--and within seconds tiger's beaming, cheerful face is smiling back at him.

"Happy birthday bud!" she says giddily, holding up a flute of champagne. "Go get yours!"

He smiles, setting the phone down and grabbing the bottle. Tiger whoops when he pops it, and he pours a glass and holds it up.

"Cheers kid," he smiles at her, "Did you do all this?"

"Sure did," she says.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Well since I can't cook you dinner for your birthday, we can still cook it together," she beams at him, "You ready?"

"Tiger isn't it the middle of the night for you there?"

"Nah, it's just Spanish dinner time," she says, "Olé." She downs a big gulp of her champagne and he smiles back at her, doing the same.

"So what are we eating?" he pours another glass and tiger claps excitedly.

"Lobster fettuccine in a brandy cream sauce with tarragon and a green salad, and tiramisu for dessert," she says, "You ready?"

And listen, this is what they do. The both of them have their ingredients. And they just chop, cook, and chat with each other the entire time, every step of the way--Bill tells her about his day, the cake they brought him on set, how tired he is, what he's filming tomorrow. Tiger tells him about the big meeting she had, how she's thinking about painting the living room another colour, some of the new clothes she bought. They chop the same things. They stir the same things. And when they're done, they sit down--on opposite ends of the world--and they enjoy the same meal together.

It's just poetic.

[miekasa]

nanami the cook! gojo the intrusive third wheel! not if nanami can help it)

Wait this is so funny. Just you, Nanami…. and this man with the radioactive eyes between you LMFAOOOOO. Gojo texts you and asks if you wanna grab dinner, you tell him Nanami is already cooking and his only response is “ooooo daddy’s in the kitchen 😩😩😝😝🥵🥵🥵🥵 save me a plate i’ll be there,” and you have approximately 17 minutes until he’s crashing through your doors, fork in hand and ready to go. Nanami drops off lunch for you and work and Gojo offers you $30 to split it with him. You’re on a picnic date and Gojo is conveniently biking in the park, nearly crashes into the tree when he swerves to see you guys, and Nanami is contemplating murder when you invite him to sit down and offer him a finger sandwich. You two wanna try this new restaurant, but the only way to get a reservation this weekend is for a party of 3, so you already know who’s tagging along.

[tomtenadia]

Till food do us part - Rowaelin one shot

Good evening everyone.

I am back with a quick Rowaelin oneshot. This short fic came to me last week while I was in my hotel in Inveress getting ready to check out. Once on the train back to Aberdeen I had two hours and a half and I wrote this.

It’s a simple story and  just pure undiluted Rowaelin domestic fluff. I think I had to compensate for the angst in ALB. There’s no angst, just our two lovebirds being their adorable selves. 

The title is ridiculous. It took me more time to choose it than to write the whole fic. And it’s still bad. Sorry, I hate choosing titles.

Ach well, I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy.

Word count: 2.5k 

Aelin was in the kitchen all alone, in front of her on the counter she had all the pots and pans she would require to prepare her meal. At one side she had her cooking book and on the opposite side she had lined up all the ingredients needed. 

That was meant to be a special night and she wanted everything to be perfect. And because of that she had been nervous. She was not good at cooking like her boyfriend so for her to prepare a full meal from scratch was a monumental task. She just hoped not to burn down the house. He had been teaching her slowly, starting with very simple things but that evening, no matter what she was going to cook for him.

The plan was to prepare everything a part from the dessert which she had bought from the local bakery. Although her boyfriend was not a fan of sugary stuff, the night called for dessert. 

She and Rowan had been together for five years. They worked for the same company but on different floors and departments. She was in marketing, Rowan was part of the legal team and was one of the company’s lawyers.

They had a bit of a turbulent start. They met in the cafeteria and Rowan had the bad habit of being always a bit of ahead of her in the queue and always take the last portion of the food she wanted. Far too many times she had ended up eating food she did not want because of him. She had even tried to go to lunch at a different times but the man was always there. Her own personal hell. So after a whole month of that she had decided to take matter in her own hands and slowly plan her revenge. Rowan was a creature of habit, so she spent a few weeks studying him and his routine. Aelin had learned he loved to eat alone. He had friends but the lunch hour was his time to wind down and he did not want any drama or any shop talk. That would make her plan much easier. Eventually she hatched her plan. She started swapping the content of the salt and pepper shakers or even replacing them with other stuff. Aelin had also started making his table sticky or cluttering with empty trays. He still had no idea it was her but she enjoyed watching him muttering and probably cursing whoever did that to him. She had quickly learned that the man was hard to tick off completely. She would notice some small signs of irritation but that’s all the reaction she got, so she decided it was time to go big. 

And her final plan came into existence the day the cafeteria served mac and cheese and he took the last portion from her. She was fuming. If she could not have mac and cheese so wouldn’t he. 

She waited for him to make his way back to his table and then she walked straight into him. Their trays smashing against each others and the food landing on his shirt. She had muttered a weak sorry and had fled with a grin on her face.

She had later found out that she had made him late for an important meeting and caught hell from his boss Lorcan.

Until one day he started to retaliate. Apparently, she had found out, he knew all long it was her messing with his meals.

And so a long series of pranks had begun between them, most of them taking place in the cafeteria since that was the place they used to share the most.

However, sometimes along the way, Aelin realised pranking him was not fun anymore and that pesky feelings had started to take root in her.

Until one day he showed up in her office with two portions of mac and cheese from Emrys and a peace offering. They had the lunch in the privacy of her office, they talked and she realised very quickly that he was quite a fascinating man. Also, she would have lied to herself if she had ignored the fact that the man was hotness incarnated. He was tall and had a healthy muscular build. He would always wear impeccable tailored suits which made his backside very prominent and more than once her eyes had wandered. He had the most beautiful pine green eyes and she adored his silver hair.

Soon she had to admit that she had a crush on him. And then some.

And when Rowan finally asked her out she could not believe her ears. The sexiest man in the company wanted to go out with her. So she said yes.

Fast forward five years and Aelin was now cooking for their fifth anniversary and as a joke she had put mac and cheese on the menu. It was their dish and their own joke as well.

Aelin had a look at the clock and realised she had half an hour tops before he came back home.

While preparing mac and cheese she took a sip from the glass of wine at her side. She had bought two bottles of Rowan’s favourite wine and she had started the celebrations a bit earlier.

In the oven in the meantime, the pork roast and the potatoes were cooking and she was busy checking the food that she almost missed the sound of the front door opening and closing.

“I am home,” shouted a happy voice.

“Kitchen.” She shouted back.

When she stood she saw him in leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, his arms at his chest and a strange grin on his face “you are cooking?” He asked surprised, raising an eye brow in a question.

Aelin grabbed a glass of wine, took a step closer to him and gave it to him “Happy anniversary, buzzard.” And she went to him for a kiss he did not deny it to her.

“Oh, so you waited five years for your final revenge and win with food poisoning.” Still leaning against the doorframe he took a sip of wine and looked at her with a smirk.

Aelin just glared at him “I can cook.”

“Aelin, I love you, but cooking is definitely not your strongest asset.”

She waved her wooden spoon in his face “I’ll show you.”

Rowan chuckled happily and stooped for a kiss “happy anniversary, menace.”

Aelin moved another step in his direction “now go,” and she patted his chest “get changed and let me finish.”

Half an hour later the dining table was all set, with some candles on to set the romantic mood and a new bottle of win in the middle. Everything looked perfect and she was chuffed.

“This looks lovely,” his voice reached her as he re entered the room and his arms wound around her waist.

“I hope it’s good as well.” She said while pulling back from the embrace and pushing him to his seat. 

“Let me help,” he offered but Aelin pushed him again.

“No, just sit down.”

Quickly she went to get the appetisers: she had prepared raw smoked salmon on oatcakes with cream cheese and chives. They had that at a party and they loved it and realised it was something easy to make and almost impossible for her to mess it up. The only thing she had to do was to assemble the ingredients in a nice display.

Rowan in the meantime poured some wine for both and made happy noises at the wine.

“Fancy,” he added, commenting on the appetiser.

“Easy mostly. I took inspiration from the last party we went to.”

Rowan took one of the oatcakes and she relaxed when she saw him smile. Oh well, at least if the rest of the meal was a disaster they could eat oatcakes and salmon.

“Did you have a good day at work?” She asked, she had a day off and she hadn’t seen him since the morning when he left for work.

“It’s the end of the month and as you can imagine Lorcan has been his unpleasant self.”

“I need these reports on the desk by the end of yesterday?” She said, imitating the man’s voice.

Rowan chuckled and took another oatcake “that’s the gist.”

Once the appetisers were over, Aelin stood and went to get the next course. That was the surprise and the dish that meant the most.

She brought the oven dish to the dining table.

“You made mac and cheese.” Rowan’s tone was full of love.

“I did.” She took his plate and was ready to serve him his portion. It looked great and for a moment she had hoped. The recipe was for the baked version and the crust at the top looked golden and crunchy. Then she dipped the spatula to cut it and terror took her. It was runny. 

“No, no, no, no, no…” she panicked.

“What happened?” Rowan stood and moved at her side.

“It happened that I should not be allowed to cook.” She sat on the chair and sniffled.

“I am sure it’s not that bad…”

“Ro,” Aelin almost shouted in frustration at his tone “you can drink it with a straw, mac and cheese is supposed to be creamy.”

He looked over “I think you put too much milk,” and with his hand he brushed her lower back in support.

Aelin started sobbing “I messed up the main dish. It was meant to be like the one we shared in my office.”

Rowan was about to reply when he smelled smoke “is something burning?”

“Holy fuck,” Aelin stood abruptly and ran to the kitchen and when she opened the oven a cloud of smoke engulfed her. The roast and the potatoes where charcoal. She sat dejected in front of the oven  and Rowan joined and sat at her side “you have the most useless girlfriend ever.”  

He brushed her hair off her face “ I do not.” A gentle kiss on her lips “my girl is brilliant, fearless, intelligent and very, very hot.” She gave him a wet chuckle. Gods, she loved him.

“I ruined our anniversary.”

Rowan stood and offered her his hand “you did not.” She took it and stood in front of him.

“We are going to Emrys, he does some amazing mac and cheese.”

“Fine,” she conceded.

Rowan cupped her face, refusing to let her be sad. He knew Aelin was not good at cooking and he had tried to teach her but once on her own she seemed to struggle. 

But as the boyfriend madly in love with her he was more than happy to cook for both, everyday, forever.

Aelin did not seem convinced and still pouted at her mess. Rowan noticed that and cupped her face in his hand and kissed het tenderly “Hey, it was a lovely gesture and I am proud of you.” He took her hand in his, “now let’s go.”

They got changed and not long after they were walking to Emrys. Rowan’s arm on around her shoulder.

Aelin looked up at him and noticed a strange light in his eyes and a small grin. Whatever it was, he did not seem bothered by her fiasco.

Once they reached Emrys froze and cursed the evening that was turning into pure hell “it’s Monday, they are close. We are two idiots.” But all Rowan did was to push her toward the front door.

“Ro, they are closed.”

“Shush,” he said gently placing his hand on her lower back.

A moment later Emrys’ smiling face appeared on the door “hello Rowan, come in, it’s all ready.” Said the man stepping aside to let them in.

Aelin was stunned. speechless. He had an evening planned.

She turned to him “did you know I was going to mess up so you had a plan b?” Her tone full with irritation at his lack of trust in her.

Rowan looked at her, his eyes dancing with mirth “I didn’t even know you were going to cook. I booked all of this over a week ago.” He told her “I knew our anniversary would fall on a Monday, so I asked Emrys and Malakai if it was okay to use the place for our dinner.”

She stood on her tiptoes “I love you.” And kissed him. Rowan took her hand and walked inside the main room of the restaurant and Aelin again was stunned. The whole room had been decorated with white fairy lights, the table had candles and there were kingsflames in a vase as well.

“Happy anniversary, Fireheart.” And pulled her to his chest “I hope you’ll love this.”

“It’s perfect,” she said to him, feeling teary.

They sat down and Malakai brought wine “Emrys is just finishing up the last few things, it should not be too long.” Explained the man while pouring the wine.

He came back a moment later and brought back freshly baked pitta bread and hummus “just as a starter.”

Aelin attacked the appetisers, realising she was starving.

Once the appetiser was out of the way Rowan took her hand.

“I am glad I burned dinner, this is so much better.”

They had gone to Emrys for their first date which turned out to be their favourite restaurant and slowly their weekly dinner treat. It had become their place pretty quickly.

She was talking to Rowan when she noticed Emrys walking to them with a large oven dish and when Aelin looked, she saw mac and cheese. And it looked incredible.

“Of course,” said Rowan at her expression and poured more wine. It was a good thing they walked. Emrys plated their dinner and then walked away with a Cheshire cat grin.

“Go on, tuck in,” Rowan said to her once he noticed her eager expression.

Aelin did so and almost moaned savagely. It was divine.

After a few bites Rowan put the fork down and took her hand again, brushing his thumb on the top of it “thank you for walking into me that day in the cafeteria.” He told her, his green eyes on her “I know we had our ups and downs but these five years with you have been incredible.” He stood and took her hand inviting her to follow him. She stood with him and Rowan pulled Aelin to his chest. She wanted to complain she was eating, but whatever he was doing it seemed important.

Violin music spread in the room and Aelin recognised one of her favourite pieces of classical music. He swayed gently as if to dance, placed her hand on his shoulder and held her, his hand on her lower back.

“And I hope we’ll have many more together.” Aelin looked up at him and nodded, emotions threatening to overwhelm her. He kissed her with passion and then he pulled back a little “Aelin, my fireheart, will you do me the honour of joining me in the next adventure of our life and become my wife?”

Aelin sobbed loudly “only if you promise to keep cooking for me.”

Rowan laughed “Always.”

She threw her arms around his neck “yes, yes I will marry you.”

Rowan placed the ring on her finger then lifted her in his arms and kissed her. 

He would cook for her, make her happy until his last day.

To whatever end.

[cherryblossomflowers]

Her Special Day

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Jensen wants YN to have an incredible birthday, but when his plans start to fail he's worried he ruined her special day. Luckily, YN is very understanding.

Warnings: Mega Fluff, Slight Cursing, Anxiety/Panic

A/N: Happy Birthday @mlovesstories​ I hope your day is filled with laughter and joy. Here's a little something from me. (I also had to add a JA gif from yesterday, lol) Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

***ASK OPEN***

*LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED*

Cherry Blossom One-Shot Masterlist

As he pulled into his driveway, Jensen looked down at the clock on his radio, "Okay, she should be here in about an hour. That's plenty of time to get everything set up."

Today was YN's birthday and Jensen was determined to make it an unforgettable one. After all, the two have been dating for 3 years now.

And Jensen believed it was time to take that next step.

Early that morning, he called a local flower shop to deliver a bouquet of roses to YN's office as a surprise for her birthday. Then he made a plan and got ready for the day.

His first stop was the jewelry store in town. It took some time to find the perfect diamond, but after 3 hours of careful looking, he had found it. 

He didn't even flinch at the price when he swiped his credit card, especially since YN's happiness was worth more to him than any amount of money he ever had.

His next stop was the floral shop that he had the roses delivered from. He decided to buy a couple more bouquets of roses and use the petals as a romantic decoration around the house.

Finally he popped into the grocery store to pick up ingredients for YN's favorite meal: chicken parmesan. He also grabbed a chocolate cake mix, frosting, and candles, deciding that a semi-homemade birthday cake was better than having someone else make it in a bakery.

After he purchased everything, Jensen climbed back in his truck and drove to his house. He pulled into the driveway, checked the time, and got to work.

Jensen managed to get everything inside, including the ring, and into the kitchen before setting up a plan of action, "First things first: I need to get that cake made so it has time to cool. Then I need to get everything decorated. I should probably get dinner at least put together while the cake bakes."

In his entire life, Jensen had never been this nervous. He wanted YN's special day to be memorable, but he also needed this proposal to be perfect. She was the love of his life and he wanted her to always be happy.

So everything had to go right and be perfect.

After a half hour of mixing ingredients, Jensen popped the cake in the oven and got to work preparing dinner. Since he's made chicken parmesan several times over the years, mainly at YN's request, it was second nature to him.

He set the dish aside and started decorating the living room and kitchen for YN's birthday. He put one bouquet of roses in a vase and set them on the counter, then he set the table for himself and YN.

A little while later, the timer for the cake went off and he pulled the pans out of the oven. He set them on the cooling rack and slipped the chicken parmesan into the oven.

As he was cleaning up the kitchen, his phone started to ring on the counter. He picked it up and saw the picture from his and YN's first date at the water park.

He smiled as he answered, "Why hello, birthday girl."

Her giggle on the other end made his heart skip a beat, "Hello, love. Guess who got off work a half hour early?"

Jensen pulled back his phone and noticed the time, "O-oh, wow that’s...great," he had to think of something to keep her busy a bit longer, "Um, hey why don't you stop by the store a grab a bottle of wine? I spaced getting it when I was at the store earlier."

"But don't you have like rows and rows of wine in your house?"

"Y-yeah, I do. But I want you to have your favorite and we drank the last of it a week ago."

"Oh, uh, okay then. Sure, I'll stop by the store. Is there anything else I could grab?"

"Nope, that should be it. I'll see you in a bit my love," Jensen sighed in relief.

"I love you, Jay."

"Love you, too," he hung up and set his phone back on the counter, "Great, that bought me some time, but not a lot."

After grabbing the ring box from the kitchen counter, he jogged into the bedroom and swung open his closet. He looked around until he spotted the royal blue dress shirt that happened to be YN's favorite on him. He also grabbed his black slacks and dress shoes to match.

He set the ring on the nightstand by his side of the bed and changed rather quickly before walking into the bathroom to fix his hair, spray some cologne, and make sure he looked as handsome as the first time YN fell in love with him.

He took a long look at himself in the mirror and sighed, "You're all right. You can do this. You're Jensen Ross Ackles. Just a simple question: will you marry me? It's not that difficult. Just take a deep breath and relax."

He walked out of the bedroom and back towards the kitchen. As he stepped into the kitchen, he heard YN's car pulling into the driveway and he panicked.

"Shit!" he whispered, "Nothing’s ready. What do I do?"

He had to think quick on his feet, so he bolted out the front door and over to YN's car. He yanked open her driver door, which startled her.

"Jeez, Jay. Are you trying to scare me to death?" YN sighed.

"N-no, sorry. I...um..." he trailed off, trying to figure out what to say.

YN stepped out of the car and shook the bottle in her hand, "I got the wine."

"Oh, right," Jensen nodded, "I'm sorry I scared you."

"It's okay, love," she kissed his cheek, "Let's go inside and chill. I had a long day and I just want to have a nice relaxing evening with my love," she started walking towards the house.

Jensen panicked, "YN, wait!"

"What for?" she turned to him, "Awe, are you wearing that shirt because it's my birthday? Or just because it's my favorite?"

"Both, I guess," he walked up to her, "But you can't go inside."

YN rolled her eyes and smiled, "Why not?"

"Because...because..." Jensen stood behind her and covered her eyes, "It's a surprise! No peeking, okay?"

"Okay," she chuckled, "You know I'm not one for surprises, Jay."

"I know, but...trust me," he breathed, "This is a good surprise."

He kept his hands covering YN's eyes as they walked into his house. He guided her away from the kitchen and living room and towards his bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind himself, took his hands off YN's eyes, and spun her around to look at him.

"Whoa, okay. Now that I can see, what do you have up your sleeve, Jensen?" YN asked.

"Whatever do you mean, my love?" Jensen smiled, "Now, why don't you get out of your work clothes and take a long, hot bath?"

YN sighed, "That does sound nice."

"And while you do so, I'll get dinner ready."

"What's for dinner?"

"Your favorite."

YN smiled, "You're the best."

Jensen turned her around and walked her towards the bathroom, "I'll take that title for sure, but since it's your special day, I think you should take it back. All I've done is put chicken and sauce in a pan. You, m'lady," he kissed her cheek, "do more for me everyday just by breathing."

YN sighed in content, "You're going to be the death of me, Ackles."

"I love you, too," he smiled, "Now, go take a bath and meet me in the kitchen when you're done. Take as long as you need."

YN nodded as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind herself. Jensen let out a long sigh of relief as he walked out of the bedroom and back to the kitchen.

The cake had to be cool enough to ice by now, so he took them out of the pans and layered them on a plate. He grabbed the frosting and a spatula, and got to work on the cake. It wasn't the prettiest thing in the world, but Jensen made it himself.

He added the candles to the top then stood back to look at his handy work, "Not bad, Ackles. Not bad at all."

After setting the cake on the counter next to the vase of roses, he walked over to the dining table, picked up the last bouquet, and started pulling off the flower petals. He scattered them around the dining table then started walking back towards the bedroom while scattering more petals as a path.

When he reached the bedroom, he could hear YN's music coming from the bathroom. He smiled as he thought of how the rest of the night was going to go.

First, she'd walk out of the bathroom, her towel around her body and hair, and relaxed from her long soak. Then she'd get dressed and notice the rose petals around her feet. She'd walk out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and towards the kitchen. She'd see dinner on the table, her birthday cake, and more roses waiting for her.

And Jensen would be there, knelt down on one knee with the ring in his hand. He'd pop the question, she'd say yes (hopefully), and they'd live happily ever after.

It was perfect. Well, hopefully it would be that perfect.

Suddenly, a beeping could be heard coming from the kitchen and Jensen could smell smoke. He went into a panic as he ran out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.

He abruptly came to a halt when he saw black smoke pouring out of the oven, "Shit! I forgot to set a timer for dinner!"

He ran into the kitchen and pulled the oven open, causing more smoke to pour out of it. He blindly reached around for something to douse the small fire and rolling black smoke.

Unfortunately that thing happened to be the vase of roses. He grabbed it and tossed it on to the flame, which ruined the flowers but extinguished the fire.

When he realized what he had done, he felt himself panic more, "Oh, no. No, no, no. This is bad. The flowers...dinner...they're both ruined."

He took a few steps back from the oven, trying to figure out a quick plan to fix this. When he moved backwards, he ended up bumping into the cake and knocking it to the ground.

He whipped around and gasped at the sight, "No! Not the cake too! What am I going to do now?!"

Just then, he heard the bedroom door squeak open and footsteps approaching the kitchen.

"Hey, uh, Jay?" YN's voice echoed in his head, "Do you, um, do you want to tell me what this is that was sitting by your side of the bed? And why there are rose petals all over the floor?"

She walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, but paused when she saw the devastating sight in front of her.

There was Jensen on his hands and knees trying to somehow salvage the cake that had dropped. YN took a few steps towards him before he looked up at her with tears in his eyes.

She gasped when she saw his face, "Jensen? Honey, what happened?"

Jensen wiped his eyes, "I-I messed everything up. The chicken parmesan is burnt to a crisp, the flowers went up in flames, a-and I knocked over the cake," then he noticed the box in her hand, "Oh, no. Y-you didn't...open that did you?"

"No, not yet," YN shook her head, "I assumed it was a birthday gift that you wanted me to open with you."

He sighed, "Well, the entire night is ruined anyway. You might as well open it."

She glanced down at the box then back at Jensen, "Honey, the night isn't ruined. So dinner got a little burnt and the cake is on the ground and the flowers are toast. So what?" she knelt down next to him, "It doesn't matter."

He blinked up at her, "But your birthday-"

"Is just another day, love," she interrupted him, "You could've just popped in a movie, ordered a pizza, and we could have cuddled up on the couch. Just the fact that you tried to hard to make it perfect let's me know how much you really care about me. I love you so much."

Jensen smiled, "I love you, too, YN. And I'm sorry about all of this."

"Don't worry about it," she kissed him, "How about I help you clean up all of this then we'll watch a movie, drink some wine and relax?"

"I like that idea," he nodded, "I'll handle the cake if you want to try and get the pan of food out of the oven."

YN and Jensen stood from the floor and got to work. After YN placed the ring box on the counter, she walked over to the oven, grabbed potholders, and pulled out the dish. She placed it in the sink and started running water on it to cool it down enough to clean it.

Meanwhile, Jensen pulled the trashcan over to start cleaning the cake off the floor. He grabbed cake by the handful and tossed them in the trashcan.

It took roughly a half hour or more to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Jensen and YN had to change their clothes once they finished as Jensen was covered in cake frosting and sweat while YN was covered in burnt chicken parm and soapy water.

Once back in the living room, YN collapsed on the couch with a heavy sigh, "I could use a glass of wine."

Jensen chuckled, "I think I can handle that."

"You sure?" YN asked.

"Hardy har har," he rolled his eyes as he walked into the kitchen, "That was so funny."

He poured two glasses of wine and moved to walk out of the kitchen when the ring box caught his eye. He had completely forgotten about proposing to her after everything had happened.

Jensen grabbed the box and took a breath, "It's now or never."

He walked back into the living room and handed a glass of wine to YN. She took it from him and immediately took a satisfying sip.

"Wow, who knew wine was the key to your happiness," he chuckled as he sat next to her and put his glass on the table.

"Well, not exactly. Just a long day," she sighed and took another sip.

Jensen took a breath and held out the box, "YN, um-"

"Oh, my birthday present," she set the wine glass on the table.

"Sort of," he smirked, "Look, I know that I'm not a perfect guy. I know that I mess up from time to time, and it's mainly from my nerves. Things like tonight, I know it won't be the last time they happen. But out of all the things I know, there is one that tops them all: I know for a fact that I love you and that you love me back."

YN felt tears welling up in her eyes, "Oh, Jay."

"I've done a lot of thinking lately. And I've come to 3 conclusions: 1) I am a huge dork who's dating the most beautiful and amazing woman on the planet. 2) That amazing woman has had me wrapped around her finger from the first moment we locked eyes. And 3) The finger needs a little something more to make it official," Jensen opened the box to reveal the ring.

YN gasped, "Jensen..."

He smiled at her with tears in his eyes, "I love you, YN YLN. Would you do me the incredible honor of becoming Mrs. YN Ackles?"

"Oh my gosh, Jensen. Y-you're being serious, right? This isn't some prank o-or some cruel joke, right?" she was shaking from shock.

"No, baby. This is real. This is 100% real," he took her hand, "So, what do you say?"

YN chuckled, "What do I say? What do you mean 'what do I say'?" she leaned forward and kissed him, "Yes, Jensen, of course I'll marry you."

"Really? Yes?!" Jensen smiled his mega watt smile as he took the ring out and slide it on her finger.

YN took a long look at the ring, "This is gorgeous, honey."

"I couldn't find the exact one that you wanted, but I hope you'll love it just the same," he kissed her hand.

"It's perfect," she reached for her wine glass, "To my handsome fiance. He has his quirks, but he always keeps a smile on my face."

Jensen lifted his own glass, "And to the birthday girl, my gorgeous fiance. There's not a single flaw about her, well maybe except her small phone addiction-"

"Hey, now," YN interrupted him, "I am the owner of a company. I kind of have to be on my phone from time to time."

"But regardless of that," Jensen chuckled, "she's always there for me no matter how clumsy I get."

"To us," YN clinked her glass against Jensen's.

"To the future Mr. and Mrs. Ackles," Jensen nodded.

--------------------

Masterlist

My Cherry Blossoms

@mlovesstories​​​ @smollestbean-2​​​ @kitwithnokat​​​

@idksupernatural​​​ @desiredposion​​​ @thevelvetseries​​​ @let-me-luve-you​​​

@obsessedwithfandomsx​​​ @mangueweaschester​​​ @starchildwild​​​ @deans-baby-momma​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​ @unicornmadness2444​​​

@emery--nicole--morrison​​​ @spnfamily-j2​​​ @akshi8278​​​ @avocadogirl216​​​

@imthedoctorlove​​​ @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x @lyarr24​​

[sweetwritertanya]

Stormy Night (Original)

Summary: A snow storm leads to you losing your chance to not only see your boyfriend, as it was planned, but also communicate at all with him as the blizzard worsens. Little did you know, that would be the last time you would ever spend a stormy night alone.

Warnings: HORROR! Nothing too bad, hopefully it just sends those spooky scary tingles down your back. No trigger warnings, no violence or anything of the sort. Tell me what you all think of it, if you can! Did it spook you a bit? Did you guess what was about to happen?

Word Count: 2345

“Hun, I hate this” you complain into the phone in your hand against your ear, pacing around in the living room and looking out the window to the dark threatening sky.

“I know, muffin, I know. I hate it too” your boyfriend reciprocates on the other side of the call.

“I mean, I had everything ready, I was going to make your favorite meal, went to the supermarket and got all the freaking ingredients and whatever, bought the expensive wine, booked the tickets to the play and…” you sigh heavily. “All for nothing.”

“We couldn’t have predicted this, Y/N. I mean, this storm came out of nowhere, not even the weathermen saw it coming” he tries and console you, like he always did whenever you were frustrated at something you couldn’t quite control.

“It just… sucks! I haven’t seen you in three months!”

You didn’t mean for the last sentence to come out almost like a sob, but your pent-up feelings surface quickly and you start snuffling as you try to keep the tears from falling.

“Fuck, baby, I know and it’s killing me too. I just want to hold you in my arms again and kiss the pout I know you have right now away” he confesses, sounding every bit as disappointed as you. A small smile comes to your lips when he mentions the pout that you, in fact, had been sporting the entire call. “If only I had booked a flight one day earlier, I could have been snowed in with you during the storm. Keep you protected and warm.”

“It’s not your fault you’re so busy with work. You know one of the things I love about you is how dedicated you are.” It’s your turn to console him and that somehow helps you feeling better, focusing on making him feel better instead of pitying yourself any further.

“The only thing I hate about my job is how it keeps me away from you so much” he murmurs, groggily.

“You know what? It’s fine. This is fine” you decide with a renewed determination, walking out of the living room you were at and making your way to the kitchen. “We’ll meet after the storm is all over and we’ll make it an even better stay! I’ll get refunded for the tickets, use the money to instead take us out for dinner so I don’t have to cook and we can have our own movie session at home. Which is better anyway, because we can get comfortable and snuggle how much we want without disapproving eyes all around.”

You gasp loudly and jump in place as a loud thunder shakes the ground, lightning tearing apart the cloudy sky outside. The wind seems to pick up in response and you can only see a blur of white snow falling out your windows.

“Y/N? M-ffin, are yo- o-y?”

The signal of your phone call weakens and you can barely make out what he is saying from the other side.

“Babe, I’m okay! Can you hear me? I’m fine, but I think I’m losing signal” you yell into the phone, hoping that he can still comprehend what you are saying so he doesn’t worry.

“I hea- you. Ok-y, you’re oka-. Cal- -morrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow! Love you!”

“Lov- -ou, bye muff-” And the call ends abruptly.

“Damnit…” you whisper in a sigh. “Was supposed to be spending the day with him and now I can’t even have a phone call or a video chat with him. Stupid weather!”

As you had predicted, both your wi-fi and even the television feed were struggling due to the conditions outside, so you weren’t even bothering turning them on. Taking out all of the candles you had available, which were mainly scented candles you received from people you barely knew, you left at least one in each room and picked the largest one to carry with you around the house, expecting the lights to go out some time during the storm.

When living alone in a small one-bedroom house in the outskirts of town, one could never be too prepared. Especially a woman living alone. So, you have thought of every situation you could find yourself in and came up with solutions that didn’t depend on someone else coming over to fix. The candles were a wise decision, as it turned out, since early in the evening, while you were trying to entertain yourself by reading a book in bed, the only lamp turned on by your nightstand went out and the moonlight was all you had.

“Figures” you dryly say, reaching for the lighter you kept on the first drawer and lighting the large vanilla and coffee scented candle.

Even though it was earlier than when you usually went to sleep, there was really not much you could do without the modern commodities you were used to, especially in the dark of the young night, so you just laid down in bed and covered yourself with the blankets, keeping the candle going in case you needed to go to the bathroom during the night and the lights weren’t back on yet.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take much for you to fall asleep, even with the wind owling loudly outside and the occasional thunder. And yet, it was a loud crash coming from somewhere in the house that wakes you in a jerk, sounding like one of your plant pots had fallen and shattered on the ground. You grimace just thinking of having to get up and clean it all up, but the thought of just leaving your plant on the ground to wither guilt trips you into doing so.

With a grunt, you remove the covers and put on your slippers, picking the candle up and opening your bedroom’s door. Walking to the kitchen, much like you suspected, you find that the plant you kept on the windowsill above your sink had fallen to the ground and the window’s doors were blasted open with the furious wind, making you shiver from head to toe at how cold it was.

Automatically, you go and close the window before anything else, making sure to close the latch securely this time. It was such a mundane task, something you did every night before going to bed, that you almost missed it.

Just as you were about to turn around and pick up the broken pieces off the floor, your numb mind picks up something strange. You look back outside, frowning as you don’t quite understand what seems strange. It takes you maybe five solid seconds of staring for you to see it.

The footprints, on an otherwise completely immaculate white veil above the ground. The snow was falling so quick and so much that the tracks were starting to be covered up again, soon to disappear beneath a newly fresh layer of pristine snow. But you still saw them.

And they were leading straight to your window.

Your whole body freezes, heart stops and your breathing comes to a frightening halt. Blankly, you stare at the outside for a few more moments before the terrifying realizations hits you. Your silent hammer switches to a hammering beat against your chest, blood rushing loudly in your ears and sold sweats prickling up your skin as you slowly turn around and scan your house.

The dirt of the pot, it had been moved. A snow trail melting in your wooden floors, from your sink where the open window was to across the kitchen. Your eyes follow it and you fight back a fearful whimper once you notice the opened door to the small basement. A door you always closed and seldomly opened.

Your mind races, working in overpower as survival mode seems to set in. There was someone at your house. Someone broke in. Your first thought is to run to your phone and call for help, but your last phone call proved that the storm was interfering with means of communication. And you didn’t have a landline.

You slap your hand against your mouth as a shriek escapes you and you scrunch down to your knees when a creak comes from bellow. Your eyes start to swell up with dread and you force yourself to silently move away. The basement door was made of cement, which meant the creaking could only be made if someone was coming up the stairs.

There were only two options in your brain now. Fight or flight. You couldn’t call for help, hiding would do you no good when there were only a handful of places to do so, and even if you screamed in hopes that your only neighbors from across the street would hear you, the loud storm would drown you out.

The stairs creak again and you are maybe seven feet away from your front door. The door to the basement is still within your view and you wide scared eyes miss nothing at this second. So you see it. Even with the only light sources being the candle you left on the counter and the streetlight from outside, you see it.

The large grey hand with dark dirty nails that clutches around the side of the door, as if about to open it. And the sparkle of something metallic coming from the darkness.

Gathering all of the strength you could master in your panicked state, you stand up and run towards the front door, fighting with the latch to open just as you hear heavy footsteps that didn’t belong to you. Swinging the door open, you run into the blizzard with a shrieking scream that contended with the owling wind, barefoot and only in your pajamas, too caught up in the moment to even feel how cold it was.

You are screaming the entire path across the street, even as you hammer against your neighbor’s door so heavily you might actually break down their door.

“HELP! HELP, I NEED HELP! SOMEBODY! HELP!”

The man from the mid-aged couple is the one who opens the door for you, looking half worried and half annoyed, the woman coming down the stairs hurled up in her robe with concern.

“What the hell is go-”

“Call the police! Somebody broke in to my house and they are there right now. Please, call the police!” you beg, starting to shiver as the cold starts to get to you.

“Dear God, let her in a lock the doors!” the woman tells her husband immediately, taking off her robe and giving it to you as you enter their home.

Thankfully, their landline telephone was still functioning despite the storm and the police was contacted. They arrive an excruciatingly long thirty minutes later, knocking at your neighbor’s door and asking what happened.

That’s when the weirdest thing happens. You walk with the officers back to your house, feeling more secure now that you had two people with guns next to you. The blizzard had almost erased the footsteps from you running away from the house, your door still swinging open and moving with the strong wind. Looking around, you don’t see any tracks other than yours leading out of the house. One of them goes inside the house first, the other keeping you safe outside.

“All clear!” the policeman yells from inside.

Frowning and uncertain, you and the other officer enter the house to inspect.

It’s mind boggling, really. How immaculate all of it was. The flowerpot that had fell to the ground was gone, no indications of any dirt on the ground, all completely clean as if it never happened. The window was still shut just as you left it, candle still burning on your kitchen’s counter. No snow or water trails on the floor anywhere.

They checked the basement and found nothing; it was just as you always left it. The policemen made you search for any lost valuables, any expensive items you might have had that could be stolen, but everything was in its place. Nothing was missing.

You beg them to look for fingerprints, namely on the door where you know you saw a hand. After a bit of pressure, they grant your request and gather all of the fingerprints around the spot you assured them the person had their hands. It would take a few days for them to come back with any result.

Obviously, you didn’t stay back in that house. In fact, you were almost entirely decisive on moving out as soon as possible. The only way you would even consider staying there again was if the police found and imprisoned the person who broke in.

They never did. The fingerprints they collected at the scene, as it turned out, were all yours. There was no indication of anyone ever having broken in. And with nothing stolen or damaged, they couldn’t continue the case and it was closed.

Up until months after you moved out, you were still bothered by vivid nightmares of that night. If you were ever home alone and it was dark, you would see grey nasty hands in the darkest corners. And you made sure from the on to never spend a stormy night alone ever again.

[lu-undy]

May I have a fic Of sniper trying to prepare a sexy evening and failing miserably there’s something about mundy being a hopeless romantic for spy but having no experience at all that makes me giggle

Hey there! There it is, Mundy awkwardly tries to impress the man that he treasures in his heart :D I  hope you’ll enjoy :)

"Right, the food is cookin' and it smells nice, I'm doing well, I'm doing well…"

Mundy wiped the sweat off his brow as he put a lid on the pan. He was trying his best. Tonight he had invited the handsome Spy for a date, and this time, the shy Sniper wanted to impress. He had it all prepared. He had rehearsed that recipe in secret multiple times. 

Spy had taken him to multiple different places, fancy restaurants that Mundy never thought he would see unless it was in movies. There was an Italian place, a Japanese one and of course, the French restaurant where Mundy realised that indeed, Spy was very French. The man in the suit and tie seemed to know the staff there well. He spoke to them in French as fluently, and infinitely more easily, than Mundy would in English. Unlike him, Spy knew how to talk to people without it feeling awkward or clumsy.

This time, Sniper wanted to invite Spy to experience something different. He had thought about typical Australian dishes but it didn't seem right. Nah, he wanted to try and surprise Spy. He had told him his favourite dish was the ratatouille that his mother used to prepare. He had said that it was about the only memory he had of her, her long dark hair and her smile that brought a unique kind of warmth to him.

Mundy had since looked up the ingredients and different recipes. He had tried countless ones until he chose one that pleased him most, hoping that Spy would like it. 

"Bugger, I forgot the suit!" 

He knew Spy was off to town, to get more cigarettes and it would take him a while to come back. So he took advantage of his absence to get everything ready before Spy would come back. 

Mundy ran back to his van and took the suit he had prepared. It wasn't even as sharp as one of Spy's work ones. It was old and he had got it from his father. The sleeves were a bit too short and the collar was quite large, from a fashion long gone. But it was the only suit Mundy had so it would do. He had bought a bowtie for the occasion and had asked how to tie it properly. When he had a few minutes to spare and Spy was far, he would rehearse the choreography to make the knot, again and again. 

Mundy ran back to the base, the suit in a plastic bag. He went to the small laundry room where there was everything necessary to iron the suit. He looked up at the clock and got started fast. 

Oh he hoped Spy hadn't caught him doing any of those preparations. Mundy made a lot of effort to make it a surprise but Spy being a spy, he had a nasty habit of noticing the smallest of odd details and make his deductions flow down to guess what Mundy was up to.

Mundy had even asked Pyro to stay at the base's front door and tell him when he saw Spy's bright red Italian car, even though he had given a precise time to Spy and knew he would be on time.

"Oh God, the ratatouille!"

He had left it in a pan on the stove while ironing his shirt and trousers. Mundy slipped them on hastily and ran back to the kitchen. He managed to rescue the French dish just in time and took the pan out to his campervan, the ratatouille still bubbling and steaming.

"Roight, now, table…" 

As soon as he put the pan down in his van, Mundy unfolded a table and chairs outside. He had bought a red tablecloth for the occasion and a couple of candles. He lit them up and made sure that the van was parked such that it laid between the table and the base, hiding them from the eyes of their colleagues. He then laid the plates and cutlery as well as the glasses. Two for Spy and two for him. Spy had always been more than strict and would never mix water and wine, even if it was for a single drop.

"Napkins…" 

Mundy slipped in the van again and got the nice ones he had bought a few weeks before. They were beige and went beautifully with the cashmere motifs on the tablecloth, which were also beige. He also retrieved the bottle of wine from the château that Spy had mentioned when they were at that French place. It had been hell to find, but he was hoping that the surprise would be worth it.

"Candles, chairs, plates, forks…" Mundy's eyes darted from one item to the next on the table. He pondered, wondering whether he had forgotten anything, as he tied his bowtie. "Oh! The rose!" 

Mundy took a glass and used it as a vase for the deep red rose he had been hiding for a few days already. 

"Mmmph! Mph!" 

Pyro came running at Sniper and stopped sharp when he saw Mundy not in his usual clothes but in a suit and bowtie. 

"Right, thanks Pyro, I'll take it from here!" 

Pyro returned to the base, not understanding why Sniper was dressed in such an unusual fashion. 

Mundy poured the ratatouille in their plates and took a seat on the chair. He waited, knowing that Spy would come soon. He heard him park his car and slam its door shut. 

Come on… Come on…

Mundy was so focused on his hearing that he almost could perceive Spy's light footsteps and as he closed his eyes, he could see the elegant, feline gait, the long, thin legs and the piercing eyes.

Mundy smiled without realising it. His insides were warm and there was something oddly pleasing about it all. He was waiting for Spy, longing for him, but with the certainty that he would appear very soon. The footsteps grew louder and louder until…

"Hello-oh…?"

"Hey, Spy, uh…" Mundy stood up. "Tadaa, I guess?" He awkwardly added, extending his arms towards the table.

Spy's shoulders sank as his jaw dropped a bit at the sight of his colleague in a suit that obviously wasn't fitting him.

"What…?"

"I uh, this is, well, I tried to make some dinner if that's ok for you?" 

"Of course, of course."

"C'mere and sit down. I hope it's still hot." 

Spy took a seat on the plastic foldable chair and in a quick glance, he noticed it all. Sniper's attempt at using hair product, his fresh shave, the collar of his shirt that reminded him of Elvis Presley given the size of it, the bowtie that wasn't straight. And then on the table, the soft tablecloth, the napkins that had a slight golden sheen under the candlelight, and of course the ratatouille in the plate, under the rose that was standing in the improvised vase. 

"Did you prepare all this?"

"I-I tried my best, uhm, try the ratatouille, please." Mundy answered as he was sweating bullets. He hoped that he didn't mess it up and hos anxiety was rising as he saw Spy take a couple of slices of the courgettes in the thick tomato sauce before raising it to his nose. He closed his eyes and smelt it. Spy frowned and Mundy bit his lip.

He then put it on his tongue and slowly pulled the fork out. Spy took his time and did not bite at first. He let the taste of it all come to him before letting his teeth sink in. His tongue managed to find the garlic, the onions, the herbs and as he closed his eyes, he heard the crickets sing in summer, in the South of France, the distant bells of the church ringing loudly across the village as yet another young couple celebrated their union on a hot Sunday… 

"Mon Dieu…" He said as he opened his eyes. 

[My God…]

"W-what? Is it bad? Oh I knew I shouldn't have left it to cook that long, I-I just thought I had enough time to get my suit sorted meanwhile but of course I forgot about it and when I came back, I-"

"Mundy." It was the first time Spy used Sniper's name. How he managed to learn it was beyond Mundy and all he knew now was that he had blushed beyond his ears and they almost burnt under the embarrassment. 

"Y-yeah?" 

"This is excellent, Mundy. I am speechless…"

Mundy smiled in pride. 

"Really? It tastes like it should?" 

"Oui, really, I am astounded! I didn't know you could cook French dishes?"

Mundy started digging in his plate and their conversations were now punctuated by a concerto of forks on plates in delight major.

"Well, neither did I, eh? I just… I just learnt." 

"You took lessons?" Spy raised an eyebrow. 

"N-not really, I did it like I learnt shooting, I just trained."

"What do you mean, 'you trained'?" Spy asked. 

"I cooked it a lot of times. I tried different recipes, oh and I had Pyro to help me taste it, just to get a second opinion, y'know." 

Spy smiled. 

"All this effort for just one dinner?" He asked.

"Y-yeah… I mean… You took me to all the fancy places that exist in town so I didn't have many options left…"

"Are you apologising?" 

"Kind of. But I'm really glad you like this ratat-oh?" 

Spy slid his hand on the table and his fingers lazily laced between Mundy's. 

"Please don't." Spy almost whispered and Mundy blushed again as he saw the ice-drop like eyes riveted on his. 

"Don't what?" 

"Don't apologise. You are offering me something that is priceless."

"What d'you mean?" 

Mundy felt Spy's thumb brush his and he made him very hot all of a sudden. 

"The time you have spent trying your best to cook something that you knew I would love, all that time and effort, no one can buy that from you. I should be the one apologising for taking you to restaurants when you bless me with such extraordinary gifts."

Mundy smiled. 

"I… No… You're not gettin' it, Spook-"

"Lucien." 

"What does that mean?" Mundy's eyebrows jumped as he didn't know that French word.

"Technically, it comes from the latin 'lux' which means 'light'. So Lucien means 'the luminous one'."

"Why d'you say that word like that?" Mundy was confused. 

"Because it is my name." 

"Oh…" Mundy's jaw dropped. "Y-your name is Lyucian?" 

Lucien smiled. 

"With your accent, oui. With mine, it is Lucien." 

"Oh sorry, I can't pronounce it right, the sound at the end is…"

"I know, but I would never complain about accent, I never did." Lucien added as he bent forward on the table. Mundy mimicked him, not even realising it. 

They devoured each other's gaze, their eyes fenced in lagoon blue and ice grey. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Your bowtie is not straight, and your suit is… original, tonight."

"Oh, bugger, I really wanted to get it right, I'm sorry…"

Mundy backed off and removed his hand off Lucien's, trying to adjust his bowtie as best as he could. 

"Gosh I can't get it right without a mirror… I-I'm sorry, I swear I know how to make them, I learnt it when I bought this one and uh, I trained and stuff, so I know how to tie it properly but the damn thing sometimes just isn't right, argh…"

"May I help?"

Mundy sighed and let his shoulders sink in defeat, his head lowered. 

"Yeah, well, I ruined it…" 

He stood up his chair and went to his van, locking the door after himself, in shame. Lucien was left here, speechless. 

Merde. He thought.

[Shit.]

He had not meant for his remark to offend Mundy, he was about to say that he found it more that touching that he had gone through all that trouble just for one dinner. Lucien never felt like he was going on a crusade when he took Mundy out. And now that he was left alone at the table where the candles glimmered and waved under the night breeze, he understood why.

Contrary to him, Mundy wasn't confident in himself. He didn't think and he didn't know that he was handsome, and that his shyness only made him more endearing. Non, chances are he thought that that dinner was a challenge, he had worked hard for it, rehearsing it like a show, just to impress Lucien…! 

The Frenchman frowned. Mundy hadn't ruined anything, on the contrary, Lucien understood that it was all on him. He stood off his chair and went to the van's door, a few steps away. 

He didn't even knock to not make it more awkward. Non. He went to his breast pocket and retrieved his cigarette case. He then took the two pins that were concealed there and picked the van's lock easily before slipping in, as silently as a shadow. 

Mundy was curled in a ball in his bed, giving his back to the door. Lucien removed his shoes and his jacket before climbing up the ladder and sliding behind Mundy in his bed.

"What the-?! Huh?!" 

He gasped when he finally felt Lucien spooning him. 

"What the hell are you doin' here?!" 

Lucien had laced his arms around him. 

"Asking for forgiveness for my being most rude with you, and cuddling with you because I have yearned for it for too long." 

Mundy turned to face Lucien. 

"I'm sorry." Lucien said, his hand on Mundy's cheek now. "I meant to express how moved I am that you made all these efforts for just a dinner. You dressed up nicely, you shaved, you even are wearing a perfume that I have only smelt when I take you out. And that is without counting the Godly ratatouille you prepared for us tonight, the rose in the vase, the tablecloth that was so brand new that you forgot to remove its price tag." 

Lucien chuckled and they stared in each other's eyes.

"You're so bloody wrong." Mundy answered. The ceiling window gave them just enough moonlight to see each other. Lucien frowned. 

"What do you mean?" He asked. 

"You think that I worked hard to make that ratatouille. I didn't. It didn't feel like work. I was happy to try to make it, to make you smile, even just a tiny bit. I have no clue what a proper one tastes like but the way you talked about your mum's got stuck in my mind. I wanted to try it and maybe you'll remember me a bit, through it."

Lucien's fingers were brushing Mundy's cheek, his rough skin and his sideburns. Mundy loved the warmth.

"And for the suit, bah, it's my dad's. He's shorter than me. It used to fit me well back in the days but uh, not so much now…"

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

Lucien smiled. 

"How come you are a professional hunter and you happen to be that delicate and sensitive?"

"I-I don't know… I don't like it either, mate, I-"

"Who said I didn't like it?" Lucien interrupted him. "I love it almost as much as I do you." 

Mundy's eyes snapped wide. 

"What…?"

"You heard me right." Lucien answered. "Why do you think I want to treat you to all the delicacies in the world? Do you think I take anyone else than you to all these places?"

He let the silence weigh for a few seconds. 

"And why do you think I go through all this, only with you?" 

Again, the silence answered his question. That, and his irresistibly charming smile. 

"Come here." 

Lucien pulled Mundy and laced his arms around his head, such that now Mundy used Lucien's upper chest as a pillow. The Frenchman lost his fingers in the Aussie's hair. 

"I love you, Mundy." He whispered. 

Mundy screwed his eyes shut. 

"M-me too." 

And he buried his head deeper in Lucien's chest, as he felt a few pecks land on his head, through his hair. 

[purplesurveys]

177

FOOD SURVEY

1. What’s the last thing you ate? I had a Whopper Jr. from Burger King. It wasn’t big enough to satisfy my hunger though so I’m still hungry. D: 2. What’s your favourite cheese? Ricotta, even though I’ve only had it once. That one time converted me forever. 3. What’s your favourite fish? Tilapia, eel, and tuna.

4. What’s your favourite fruit? I don’t do fruits. 5. When, if ever, did you start liking olives? Nooooo I never liked olives.

6. When, if ever, did you start liking beer? I hate fizzy drinks in general so I never got the hang of beer. Plus beer burps are the worst. 7. When, if ever, did you start liking shellfish? I guess when my palate started expanding by the time I was around 13. I was a picky eater before then and used to eat the same things over and over. Then I got older and suddenly I eat everything hahaha. 8. What was the best thing your mum/dad/guardian used to make? My mom doesn’t really have a signature dish, but my dad makes the best chicken wings, curry, and risotto. Perks of having a chef has a dad :) 9. What’s the native specialty of your hometown? If I did that I would end up with an entire fucking book. Philippines in general has a wide variety of native dishes like sinigang, dinuguan, sisig, lechon, etc., and then you have your regions which may have their own specialties going on, and on an even smaller scale, there are provinces in those regions that have native dishes. One never runs out of options in this country. 10. What’s your comfort food? The duo of instant noodles with hard boiled eggs never fails me. 11. What’s your favourite type of chocolate? Milk or white. 12. How do you like your steak? Rare or medium-rare. 13. How do you like your burger? Medium.

14. How do you like your eggs? Scrambled, sunny side up, or over easy.

15. How do you like your potatoes? Baked even though I seldom get the chance to have them as such.  16. How do you take your coffee? I’m terrible with ratios so I never make mine from scratch. My usual is a caramel macchiato, 10 out of 10 times from Starbucks. 17. How do you take your tea? Meh I don’t normally have it but if it’s the only thing being served, I want it iced and lemonade flavored. 18. What’s your favourite mug? I don’t have my own since I’d barely have use for one, but I already love the black ones we have in the kitchen. They look super classy and want the same for my own apartment in the future. 19. What’s your biscuit or cookie of choice? Chocolate chip, and one that isn’t baked all the way through. It probably sounds weird but the more gooey the better D: 20. What’s your ideal breakfast? Scrambled eggs and bacon is fine. On my ~fancier days~ a bagel with salmon sounds good, too. 21. What’s your ideal sandwich? I never have sandwiches so I dunno what my ideal combination would be like. All I know is I want it to be showered in mayo. 22. What’s your ideal pizza: I want ten cheese pizza to be a thing. Mozzarella stuffed crust is never a bad idea as well. 23. What’s your ideal pie (sweet or savoury)? Erm...pizza pie? Apart from that I never really have any other kind of pie. 24. What’s your ideal salad? Spicy tuna salad aaaaahhhhhhhh I’ve been craving forever. 25. What food do you always like to have in the fridge? Ice cream. Leftovers from restaurants. HAHAHAHA 26. What food do you always like to have in the freezer? Oh, oops. Didn’t realize fridge and freezer were regarded differently. I always want ice cream in the ref though, that’s for sure. 27. What food do you always like to have in the cupboard? Korean instant noodles ideally, but they can be so expensive :-( 28. What spices can you not live without? Agh don’t get too technical, I can’t cook hahaha I know I love cumin though! 29. What sauces can you not live without? Honey mustard is a must. Idk if mayonnaise counts but I can live on that for the rest of my life. 30. Where do you buy most of your food? Whatever grocery my mom happens to be in. 31. How often do you go food shopping? Every two weeks I think. I’m not too sure though; my mom is in charge of that and sometimes I don’t even notice if she’s done her grocery shopping. 33. What’s the most expensive piece of kitchen equipment you own? Dunno. You’d have to go to my parents to find out. Probably the refrigerator though? 34. What’s the last piece of equipment you bought for your kitchen? I think we got a new pan or something. 35. What piece of kitchen equipment could you not live without? All of them, I don’t cook kdjsfkjshff. 36. How many times a week/month do you cook from raw ingredients? 37. What’s the last thing you cooked from raw ingredients? 38. What meats have you eaten besides cow, pig and poultry? Buffalo and lamb. 39. What’s the last time you ate something that had fallen on the floor? Two weeks ago. I dropped the box of my McDonald’s burger on the ground but since that was going to be my only food for the day and was desperate, I had to pick it back up :( 40. What’s the last time you ate something you’d picked in the wild? I’ve never done that.

41. Arrange the following in order of preference: Italian, Mexican, Chinese, Indian, Thai, Sushi – Sushi, Indian, and Thai are all ranked for first place. After that is Chinese, then Mexican.  42. Arrange the following in order of preference: Vodka, Whiskey, Brandy, Rum – Whiskey, vodka. Never had the other two I think. 43. Arrange the following in order of preference: Garlic, Basil, Caramel, Lime, Mint, Ginger, Aniseed – :(((( I don’t cook oh no!!! I love garlic though!!! 44. Arrange the following in order of preference: Pineapple, Orange, Apple, Strawberry, Cherry, Watermelon, Banana. – I don’t do fruits. 45. Bread and spread: White bread. Not really a spread but again, mayonnaise. 46. What’s your fast food restaurant of choice, and what do you usually order? It’s a local chain called Jollibee, but they have franchises around the world. I get my favorite combo of spaghetti and fried chicken allllll the time. 47. Pick a city. What are the best dining experiences you’ve had in that city? JAPAN. I only spent a few hours in the country so I had to make it count. We eventually ended up in this sushi place and I was blessed with the best sushi and sashimi platter I’ve ever had in my entire life. We were in Japan itself so it felt so authentic and so so raw. It was so good. I finished it in minutes.   48. What’s your choice of tipple at the end of a long day? Had to look this up and it’s apparently an alcoholic drink? Welp I’m biased to Baileys hahaha but red wine isn’t such a bad idea now, especially after my girlfriend and her mom converted me into liking it. 49. What’s the next thing you’ll eat? That burger didn’t satisfy my stomach AT ALL so I feel like after this survey I’d fix myself up a bowl of cheesy ramen noodles. 50. Are you hungry now? Yes, all thanks to this survey. 51. Do you eat your breakfast everyday? No I never do these days. My first classes are at 8:30 all week and allotting two hours for traffic basically means I never have time to whip up breakfast for myself. 52. At what time do you have breakfast? :( 53. At what time do you have lunch? 'Lunch’ starts at 10 for me since I’m usually hungry after skipping breakfast. 54. What do you have for lunch? Sometimes it’s what we had for dinner, other times I’d get street food from one of the food stalls in school and hope that’ll be enough for the entire afternoon. 55. At what time do you have dinner? 7 or 8. 56. What do you have for dinner? Depends on what my mom had prepared beforehand. I usually don’t like it though so sometimes I skip dinner altogether. If I’m with Gab my dinner is usually heavy though since that’s when I think it approprate to treat myself. 57. Do you light candles during dinner? Nope. 58. How many chairs are there in your dining room and who sits in the main chair? Six. There’s no ~main chair~ unless you mean the head of the dining table in general, which my dad occupies when he’s at home. When he isn’t, no one really sits on that chair. 59. Do you eat and drink using your right hand or the left one? Spoon with my right, fork with my left. My drink is on my right side.  61. Mention the veggies that you like most: Broccoli, asparagus, cauliflower. 62. What fruit and vegetable do you like the least? All fruits except tomato. 63. You like your fruit salad to have more: Plate than fruit. 64. You prefer your vegetable salad to contain more: Dressing. 65. What’s your favourite sandwich spread? Mayonaaaaaaise. 66. What’s your favourite chocolate bar? Twix. 67. What’s your favourite dessert? Cheesecake, macarons, brownies, and cupcakes. 68. What’s your favourite drink? Milkshakes. 69. What’s your favourite snack? Street food. 70. What’s your favourite bubble gum flavour? Just the classic bubble gum flavor. 71. What’s your favourite ice cream flavour? Cookies and cream!!! Bigger cookie chunks the better. 72. What’s your favourite potato chip flavour? Cheese or barbecue. 73. What’s your favourite soup? Creamy mushroom. 74. What’s your favourite pizza? Three or four cheese, depending on the establishment. Bonus points for a mozzarella stuffed crust option. 75. What’s your favourite type of dish? Lots of spices. 76. What food do you hate? Fruits. 77. What’s your favourite restaurant? Another local place called Torch. Super pricey though. I only go there with family, because I don’t get to spend ha. 78. Do you eat homemade food, or food delivered from outside? Both, but definitely homemade more often. We keep deliveries limited to just weekends. 80. Who cooks at home? My mom, but when my dad is home he makes everything. 81. What kind of diet (e.g. low-fat, high-fiber, high-carbohydrate, balanced diet etc.) do you have? Junk food... 82. How do you keep yourself fit? I don’t really make an active effort, whoops.