Weddings are so much more tedious than you ever imagined. Sure, you expected the dress to be a challenge. The venue? Naturally stressful. But somehow, the whole affair has grown into this sprawling, never-ending checklist. Tiny details you never thought would matter now feel like the most pressing decisions in the world. What kind of napkins? What centerpiece fits the "theme"? Should the flowers be seasonal, or should you blow the budget on peonies because they were in that one Pinterest board you liked at 3 a.m.?

And then there’s the food. Will your grandmother be okay with an assorted charcuterie board, or will she complain about the lack of “real dinner”? Will Katsuki’s grandfather be satisfied with the drink options, or will he mutter about the "fancy water" not being strong enough?

But of all the things you stressed about, one detail never even crossed your mind — the flavour of the wedding cake.

It sounds simple. Cake is cake, right? But when you're planning a wedding with someone like Katsuki — someone who pretends he doesn’t care but has opinions — it quickly becomes a task all on its own. Luckily, you both knew exactly where you wanted the cake to come from.

There’s a small, locally owned bakery-slash-café tucked into a quiet street corner. You've been going there together since second year, when dating meant sneaking off-campus for an hour and splitting a coffee and a cookie. Over the years, it became your spot. Birthdays, bad days, random “we survived another week” dates — all spent there. You got to know the staff by name. They always remembered Katsuki’s order (black coffee, no frills), and they always had a new dessert waiting for you to try. So when it came time to think about wedding cakes, it wasn’t even a question.

You placed the order for the tasting box a few weeks ago — a special package they make for soon-to-be-married couples. Some miniature slices of their most popular flavors, each one a bite of nostalgia. And some they handcrafted just for the likes of you two. They packed it neatly in a white box with a satin bow, two tiny tasting spoons taped to the top. You picked it up after hero work, still in uniform, sweaty and sore, but the sight of that little box made your heart do a soft little skip. You get home first and hop in the shower, washing off the grime of the day. When you emerge in your oversized tee and soft pajama shorts, your hair damp and curling, Katsuki’s already home.

He doesn’t say much — he never does right away — but the way his eyes linger on you as you walk into the kitchen says enough. His work boots are kicked off by the door, his jacket draped over one of the chairs. He’s already noticed the box sitting on the counter, a curious tilt to his head as he reads the note attached. “To our favourite regulars, we hope to be able to celebrate your special day through our flavours. Enjoy!!” It's handwritten in familiar cursive, signed with a heart and a little doodle of a cupcake.

You both sit down at the kitchen island, knees brushing as you slide the box between you and open the lid. Inside are several slices of cake, each one carefully nestled into its own little slot. Vanilla bean with raspberry compote, rich chocolate ganache, honey lavender with lemon frosting, and their signature — salted caramel espresso: Along with a few extras they made just incase you guys liked them.