Chapter Text
The day had been fairly average for the two flower cookies, with it following that comfortable rhythm the two had created together. Nothing had truly broken it in weeks, not since that little cake hound pup had managed to sneak into the cottage. The poor thing had managed to get itself into their fresh jams and gorged itself. White Lily still often teased her fiancé on how she screamed at the happily snoozing puppy.
Though, to her credit the poor thing did look like it was covered in its own jam and not the fruits of their labor. Said pup was now happily snoozing on the foot of the couples bed, little legs kicking whenever it dreamed. With the couple getting ready for bed, thin night gowns and blankets in preparation for the summer heat.
“Did you remember to smother the fire dear?” The Ancient asked. First Flower hummed softly, before confirming that she did douse the ovens flames before bed. The two curled up in the sheets, their respective lamps dimming or turning off completely for the night. The Witch placed a quick kiss on her lover's head before opening her book, not noticing how the others' eyes seemed to stick to her.
“Honey Bee?” The Ancient whispered, as if she was scared to speak. The Witch hummed, half listening as she continued to read her book. The Ancient shifted to a sitting position, crimson eyes meeting the others soft green. “Would you ever want a child?” She asked. The Witch froze, breath catching in her throat as her focus on her book fully slipped away.
A child? She had thought of them before, sure, but she had never given it much thought, even as a human. “I…” whatever she was going to say trailed off, mouth hanging open slightly. “I’m… maybe?” She tried. “…I’ve never given much thought to children before,” she admitted. “One day, I would like one.” She smiled, a mental image of her and her flower holding a little one.
White Lily nodded, hand resting absently over her stomach, as if she was about to will a child into existence. The Witch pressed another few kisses to her loves face, smothering her in love till she laid back down on the bed laughing. “Now go to sleep Pollen, we can talk more about our future children in the morning if you please.” First Flower chuckled, delivering one more kiss to her loves nose.
White Lily yawned, a long, soft thing that ended with her eyes fluttering shut and a mildly sleepy ‘alright’. The Witch leaned back, book now forgotten as she stared at the ceiling, the question still echoing in her mind. Perhaps she should sleep on it, really consider it before they have one, a child’s a large responsibility after all.
First Flower woke later than she normally did, mind still fuzzed over with dreams of her love and a potential baby. She could almost hear the child’s shrieking giggles, and see those chubby little hands reaching out to her. Now all she saw was an empty half of the bed and early morning sunlight filtering in through the half closed drapes.
She stretched as she sat up, stiff dough loosening from a good night's sleep. She inhaled deeply, smiling as the familiar scent of chamomile and her favorite breakfast wafted through the cracked door. She could hear her flowers' little hums and mutters to herself as she cooked. She could hear how she talked to the puppy, mildly scolding the little one for how he got in her way.
Said puppy bolted through the door like lightning, jumping on the bed and licking the Witch’s face like it was the best thing in the world. “Spider!” White Lily half scolded and half laughed. After their puppy got off of the bed breakfast was finally served, her favorite. “Thank you for breakfast dear.” First Flower muttered through a mouthful of oatmeal.
After breakfast the two got dressed, ready for another day of gardening and potion making. They were already covered head to toe in dirt by noon, a big harvest of herbs waiting to be dried and used for more potions. Currently they were taking a quick rinse and preparing a simple lunch to get them to dinner. First Flower was cooking this time, while her partner was sitting at the table drying off her hair.
“Honey Bee?” The Ancient called, fiddling with her hair nervously. “Do you remember last night?” She asked. The Witch hummed, she did, and she was wondering when this question was going to be brought up. “I do, I’m guessing you want to further discuss children?” She asked.
The Ancient nodded softly, usually she wasn’t this bashful, in fact she was usually the opposite, running head first out of determination and curiosity. Sure, this change was a tad odd, but understandable considering everything. This was a large step in any relationship. The Witch grabbed their plates and sat down with her partner, sliding their lunch into place.
“Pollen, I do want children with you,” the Witch reassured. “But I’m just… unsure if I’m ready yet.” She admitted. She could barely remember her past, her friends and family a blur in her memory, with mere blips of clarity. She didn’t want to loose her flower again, or their potential child, she didn’t want to forget. She didnt-
“Honey Bee, I’m here.” White Lilys voice cut through her spiraling, her hands clasping around the others. The Witch didn’t speak, which was more than fine with her partner, she understood that she needed some time. “How about this, we go to our room, and we relax? We can talk all we want in there.” The Ancient offered. Her partner nodded, unsure if her voice would even work at that moment.
The two moved to their room in silence, previous plans for the day forgotten for much needed comfort. They hardly spoke, with the only words being soft confessions followed by even softer kisses. The rest of the day passed like that, soft kisses and words that seemed to ease the minds of the two cookies.
It was night now, the faint songs of crickets could be heard outside in response to the rising moon. The lovers had decided to opt out of dinner tonight, figuring that they would rather stay curled together. Their pup was currently snuggled in the non-existent space between the two, its soft breaths added to the ambiance of the room.
The two had come to some conclusions, and had made some promises. One of which being that they would both want kids, one or multiple is up to them. However, they both understood that it would possibly be later down the line, to try and curb the Witch’s fear of accidental abandonment. The Ancient knew how much her Witch hated how they were forcibly torn apart.
So, they agreed to wait for as long as needed, and had even joked that their puppy would work as a practice child. Many other things were said, ones far too private for writing, meant only for the ears of their lover. One of those things lead to the bottle on the nightstand, filled with the Ancients dough as a promise.
Her words still echoed through the Witches mind, how her love had promised that she could use the dough whenever she was ready. First Flower yawned as she curled deeper into her loves hold, the hero’s hands still carding through the Witch’s hair.
The morning after that night was the same, same breakfast, same silly little jokes, and their usual routine. The days after were the same, their routine uninterrupted, perhaps even strengthened by the conversation they had earlier. Yet, one day something shifted, a quiet something that happened while they were baking.
They were elbow deep in this new dough recipe, with said dough clinging to them as if it was made of glue. The two were laughing, desperately trying to add enough flour so the dough would be workable. Yet no matter what they did the dough wouldn’t come together. White Lily had given the dough a particularly hard punch out of frustration, hoping that it would be the push it needed.
It was not, she ended up covered head to toe in a cloud of flour. The two stood there for a moment, mild shock on their faces before First Flower cracked a grin, her laughter filling the cottage. The hero joined her soon after, trying her best not to inhale the flour as they cleaned through fits of laughter.
The Witch was currently sitting on their bed, still smiling like a fool at the memory. She glanced at the bottle of dough now resting on their bookshelf amongst other little curios. She had never expected that something as simple as a recipe gone wrong could solidify something so monumental.
She grabbed the bottle, it was heavy-ish, maybe around the weight of a can of beans or something similar. She glanced back to the bathroom, the door was closed and she could still hear the soda running. She walked out, the oven was still heated, the warmth of it coating the cottage, even though it was already getting fairly hot outside.
She grabbed the large bowl, an old part of her already grabbing familiar ingredients. Magic powder here, strength there, a part of her loves dough, and a part of hers. She nearly screamed taking the chunk off, she had bit her tongue so hard she could taste jam. She began to mix it together, the dough already squirming beneath her grasp. Which, admittedly felt odd, she had never dealt with living dough before, she didn’t even know if that was normal for cookies.
She wiped her hands off on a stray kitchen towel, the dough in the bowl looking oddly lively, yet it didn’t quite feel right, like it was missing an ingredient. The Witch hummed as she glanced around the kitchen, she had a large variety of ingredients to add. Perhaps dried lavender for a more floral leaning child like them? Or perhaps something more herb based to offset them? She had a thousand options, yet none seemed to fit her nor her flower.
That was until she spotted it, a lone plant that had been slowly growing in their kitchen for months. It was a matcha plant, one that had just barely begun to grow seeds, and even then the Witch had forgotten about it. She drew closer, it seemed perfect, so she plucked a few seeds from it, crushed them, and tossed it in. The dough started to turn green where the powder touched it, the color seeping into the dough as she folded it.
It smelled earthy now, like matcha and petrichor had poured into the room. The dough seemed to be finished now, the odd wriggling now down to a minimum. She placed the dough onto a tray and slid it into the oven, a sense of nostalgia washing over her as she closed the door.
She knelt in front of the oven, letting out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. She could hear how the flames crackled in the oven, she could nearly imagine how they were curling and licking at the dough. “Honey Bee?” Her loves voice called. First Flower looked up, eyes meeting her fiancés, she didn’t say anything, didn’t know if she could.
The Witch patted the spot next to her, watching as the flower cookie settled down, eyes filled with that familiar gleam of curiosity. Wordlessly, First Flower opened the oven, watching as her loves eyes widened. The oven closed moments after, the metal closing with a muted thud.
The hero stayed silent for a moment, eyes glued on the oven. Then, she lunged, she wrapped the other in a hug so tight the Witch thought the other might strangle her. The Ancient kissed her love like her life depended on it, pure passion blooming between them. “I love you.” The flower cookie broke the kiss for just a moment before diving back in.
Over and over she whispered her love to her Witch in between hurried breaths and passionate kisses. The days after built a new routine, one centered on the baby dough currently in the oven. They built a little world for their child inside the cottage, one filled with love and adoration. The nursery was the first thing they built, filled with toys and outfits for their little one.
Their excitement bubbled as the months carried on, with the oven door occasionally shuddering or slamming in the middle of the night. That turned out to be a learning curve neither of them expected, but embraced regardless. The cottage was soon filled with the soft smell of baked goods, a clear indicator that it was almost time to meet their little dough.
A soft squeal escaped the oven, to which the Ancient had assumed it was just a warning for another escape attempt. Until it happened again, sharper, like a little cry for help. White Lily, the closest to the oven, froze, putting on an oven mitt before taking a peak inside the thing. She was quickly met by an excited squeal and a gurgle from their baby dough.
The hero slipped the other mitt on before swinging the door open with a force she didn’t even know she had. She pulled the tray out, a strong smell of moss, rain, and matcha filling the cottage. The little one blinked at her, she blinked back, crimson meeting a soft green that resembled her other parents.
First Flower came barreling in soon after, out of breath as she gazed at her lover, and their child. A large smile wormed its way onto her face, laughter bubbling up as she hugged her love. The two shared a kiss as their child tested out their limbs.
“She looks like a moss ball.” White Lily laughed, breaking the tender moment. The Witch blinked, her joy, while still present, faded into confusion as she looked at her partner. “She…” White Lily fought back a snort as she took another glance at the baby dough. “She looks like a little moss ball..!” The hero wheezed, barely managing to keep it together.
First Flower looked at their child, to which, she did in fact look like a little moss ball, her fluffy tuft of hair adding to that look. The Witch barely contained her laughter as she saw what her partner meant, pressing a kiss to her partners lips. “She does, but she’s our moss ball.” The Witch could barely contain her own laughter now.
Said ‘Moss Ball’ squealed, a sharp indignant little sound that demanded attention from her parents. The hero chuckled, moving to cradle the little one in her arms, she could feel how her dough still radiated heat. The little one let out a self satisfied coo as she curled into her mothers embrace, fern green eyes fluttering shut soon after.
The two moved to the table, eyes still locked on the little life they had created. Now, it was time for a name, they had discussed some beforehand, mostly ones that centered around her base dough’s ingredients. However, one stood out, the one based off of her added ingredient that clearly shone through. The Ancient nodded to her love, a silent approval as the other drew closer.
“Welcome to the world, Matcha.”