minsung one shots

between flour and forever

ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵠᵘᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ
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fluff / 13537
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ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ʰᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵉⁿ٭˚

maple hollow was the kind of town that looked like it had fallen out of a storybook. the cobblestone streets twisted between clusters of old brick buildings, their windows framed with ivy and tiny lanterns that glowed golden at dusk. on weekends, children rode their bikes through the square, baskets filled with apples or flowers from the market.

and when autumn came, the air always smelled like cinnamon, rain, and something sweet baking in the distance. that something was usually coming from jisung’s bakery - hollow bakes.

jisung had moved to maple hollow five years ago, chasing a dream that had started as a quiet wish. he’d always loved baking, even back when he was a teenager in the city, staying up until 3am to perfect the texture of his croissants.

but city life had drained him - too loud, too fast, too much of everything. so when he saw the listing for a small, slightly run-down bakery in a quiet town surrounded by maple trees, something in him whispered this is it.

the bakery came with an apartment upstairs - cozy, with creaky floors and a balcony that overlooked the main street. it also came with a strange rumor. the woman who had owned it before, miss gyeong, had died suddenly one halloween night back in the 90s. nobody really knew how.

some said she’d fallen down the cellar stairs, others whispered about a gas leak, and a few swore they’d seen her shadow in the upstairs window long after she’d been buried. the townsfolk called her the lady of flour and ghosts.

when jisung moved in, people warned him - gently, as if they didn’t want to scare him off. he only smiled, dusting powdered sugar off his hands, and said ghosts were fine as long as they didn’t mess with his recipes.

it didn’t take long before he met minho.

minho worked for the local paper at the time, doing small interviews with new business owners. he walked into the bakery on a tuesday morning, the bell above the door chiming softly, and found jisung behind the counter with flour on his cheek and a tray of steaming scones in his hands.

“you’re the new guy,” minho said, leaning on the counter.

“i guess i am,” jisung replied, smiling shyly. “want to try one? they’re still warm.”

and that was how it started.

they began seeing each other more - first as friends, then as something more. by the next halloween, they were already inseparable. minho helped jisung with all the things he hated: spreadsheets, invoices, social media. jisung handled the baking, the decorating, the part where people left smiling and full. together, they made hollow bakes the heart of maple hollow.

every october, the town came alive. orange leaves littered the streets, jack-o’-lanterns lined every porch, and the annual halloween festival took over the square. there was a costume parade, pumpkin carving, ghost stories by the fire, and, of course, the pastry competition - which jisung had won three years in a row.

his entries were famous. the haunted pie, with dark cherry filling and a crust shaped like twisting branches. ghost-shaped sugar cookies with vanilla glaze. pumpkin muffins with chocolate faces.

every year, he made something a little different, but always with a touch of his signature sweetness - the kind that made people close their eyes after the first bite.

but jisung always said it wasn’t just him. sometimes, he’d feel a gentle breeze in the kitchen when all the windows were closed. or he’d find his ingredients already measured out when he was sure he hadn’t done it yet. once, he swore he smelled lilacs - miss gyeong’s favorite scent, according to the townsfolk - right before the oven timer dinged.