The idea of baking with your lover sounded so incredibly romantic and sweet, didn’t it? You would’ve thought so— if Albedo wasn’t your boyfriend. The man was going to every extent to ensure the recipe was followed to the last letter.

“Allow me to measure it,” he insisted, and you watched as he slowly, and you mean agonizingly slowly, pour vanilla extract onto a comically small spoon. Each time you insisted he didn’t need to be so precise, he would protest, saying—

“We need to be exact to ensure optimal results.” And his brow would crease. It was probably just the alchemist in him. It was still romantic, though… in a way. Maybe.