Chapter Text
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of a sharp claw rapped against the sugar-glass pane of the master bedroom of the cottage. Several more taps. A pause, the perpetrator's doglike ears twitched, rotating forward to listen for movement.
Sheets rustling. Sleepy, uncoordinated footsteps. The house's lone occupant yawned as she made her way to the window, and peered out with a tired sky-blue gaze. The tapper had roused her during her afternoon nap.
“Red Velvet…?” Pastry murmured, rubbing her eyecings, before looking back up. No longer sleepy, she was now focused on the man on the other side of the window.
“I lost my door key again. Let me in,” he responded, tone measured and calm as always.
Pastry sighed, running her hands through her fluffy, sleep-ruffled hair. Long had she removed the veil of The Order. Though, she still liked to tie a kerchief around her head, as a form of modesty. Modesty was an Order-taught lesson she still adhered to, preferring long, covering clothing.
“Alright, I'll let you in.”
She shuffled to the front door of their little cabin, unlocking and opening the creaking choco wood door (Red Velvet still hadn't gotten around to oiling the hinges). She looked up, and her eyecings widened significantly.
Red Velvet had brought guests.
Three unfamiliar, intimidating-looking cookies. One was an entire head taller than the already tall Red Velvet, with huge biceps and a sickly grey-brown complexion. The next, a cookie with long, straight white hair, a patch over one eye, and bandaged arms. The third seemed no older than a child, with bouncy white and green hair, and bicolored eyecings. The most striking feature of the three? They were collared and shackled, strange runes seemingly cut into their dough.
“Red Velvet. Who are your… friends?” Pastry asked hesitantly. The Dough trio, standing behind Red Velvet, didn't move, and continued to stare at Pastry with unreadable expressions.
“These are Mold Dough, Venom Dough, and Pom-pom Dough. They'll be staying with us for a while,” Red Velvet responded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to bring three scary-looking strangers to the door in the middle of the night.
“...Red, can I speak with you alone for a moment?”
He looked back at the Doughs, then to Pastry. He made a ‘wait here’ gesture to the three, before entering the home and shutting the door. His pointed, wolfish ears pricked forward, listening with intent to his girlfriend.
“Velvet!! You can't just bring strangers to the house!!” Pastry hissed quietly. She knew her boyfriend wasn't always aware of social norms, but this was an entirely new scenario she found herself in.
“They aren't strangers.”
“Then who are they?”
“It's a lot to explain. Just… trust me? They don't mean any harm.”
Pastry groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. ‘Trust me?’ were Red Velvet's magic words. Of course she trusted him. He had never led her astray thus far. Well, he had led her astray from her religious background, but she had considered that a net positive.
“They look dangerous.”
“They are dangerous.”
“Velvet!”
Red Velvet shook his head, coming closer. He leaned in, nosing at Pastry's cheek, before giving her a sweet kiss. His non-cake hand came up to squeeze her shoulder affectionately, and his pointed ears cast downward, submissively. He was trying to butter her up.
“Pastry. Those three were baked to be used as living weapons, and thrown away once they were no longer useful. They've never known a home, peace, or comfort. I want to provide that for them. They deserve to be happy, just like you or I do.
Pastry took in the explanation with a slow nod. Now she felt bad, for judging a book by its cover. Those three weren't glaring at her, they were probably curious. Yet another lesson she was working on unlearning from the Order. Not every dessert is baked equally, but it's important to treat them equally.
“Fine. They can stay.”
With that, he nosed her again, gave her a kiss on the lips, and went back to open the door. The three Doughs had remained unmoving, except for Pom-pom, who had noticed a flower growing near the house, and had gone to examine it. When the door opened, she looked over, before quickly picking the flower and hurrying to her siblings once more.
“My name is Pastry. I'm glad to meet you three. Please… come in,” Pastry said, stepping to the side and holding the door open. The three shuffled in, their steps taken in unison. Once they were inside, Pom-pom held her arms out to be picked up by Mold Dough, who let her stick the flower in his hair.
The three looked… stiff. Unsure of what to do next. They had never been in a home before. Venom Dough was glancing around, taking stock of what could be used as weapons or possible escape routes if something bad were to happen.
“What is your command?” Mold Dough asked. Pastry's brows furrowed, and she looked at Red Velvet.
“I've told you already, Mold Dough. I am no longer your commander, and you no longer need orders to follow. The three of you are free to do what you wish,” Red Velvet stated.
The Doughs blinked in unison. How does one grasp the concept of freedom, when all they've ever known is imprisonment? It seemed that Red Velvet, even with his good intentions, wasn't aware of that fact.
Pastry knew, though. From a young age, she had lived under strict rules, following the way of the Order. Groomed to be a star example of the cleansing force against the supposed evils of the world. Being able to tear herself free of her cult upbringing had been difficult, but she had a level of understanding how the Doughs must be feeling right now.
Lost. Unsure. Overwhelmed. Scared.
“Are you three hungry?” She asked, giving them a little smile. The siblings looked between each other. Venom shook their head.
“We ate our standard rations before leaving with Comma-... with Red Velvet. We are satiated for the time being,” they said. Pastry's brows furrowed.
“How long ago was that?”
“Before the sun rose.”
Pastry's eyecings went wide. The sun was starting to set now, and they hadn't eaten all that time? Though her and Red Velvet didn't live lavishly, she would never let guests go hungry.
“No, that won't do at all. The three of you are having a meal. A proper meal,” she insisted. The trio didn't fight back on it. It sounded like an order, and who were they to defy orders?
The three were led to the kitchen table, and gestured to sit. The Doughs looked between each other. Pastry watched as the three tried to figure out what she meant when she had waved her hand towards the table. Her heart began to hurt. Had these three never even been allowed to sit at a table for a meal?
“Here, like this,” she said, walking over to one of the chairs, pulling it out. She gestured for one of them to come over, and after slight hesitation, Mold Dough set Pom-pom down and walked over, taking a seat. The old wood creaked under his heavy, muscular body.
Pastry pulled out two more chairs, and the other two came over, taking their seats. While she had always chastised Red Velvet over finding a table set that was ‘much too big’, she now found herself quite pleased that they had a six-seater dining table. Three seats for the Doughs. Two seats for the couple. One seat for Chiffon (as Red Velvet often demanded. Gently demanded, of course).
“You three can wait here. Red Velvet and I will make dinner. What do you like to eat?” She asked.
“We eat what we're given,” Venom Dough responded, as if it were obvious. Pastry knew the feeling all too well. In the Order, food was rationed, and meals were often simple. Unflavored. To live close to the godly Creators was to forego lavish meals, fancy clothes, personal items.
“Hm. I suppose we'll have to find food that you like, then,” she said, brightening, a small smile on her face. The three Doughs nodded slowly along with the idea, but didn't seem to really grasp the idea of having something they liked.
She went into the kitchen to help Red Velvet cook, leaving the siblings alone.
“Pastry seems… nice,” Mold Dough said, after a moment of quiet.
“Shh, Mold. We don't know if we're allowed to speak,” responded Venom Dough. Pom-pom had rested her small hands atop the table, feeling the wood grain with her fingertips. Her eyes were wide. She had never felt such a unique texture before, used to cold metal tables.
Pastry came in after a moment, bringing three cups out. Water for the two older ones, and for the small Pom-pom, juice. They all seemed to hesitate.
“I brought you three something to drink, in case you're thirsty,” Pastry explained, before going back to the kitchen. Once she was fully out of sight, Pom-pom reached out, taking the cup and taking a small sip. Her eyes lit up at the taste. This was the best thing she'd ever had.
“MD! Venny! You need to try this--” the little cookie said, holding their cup out. She was seated next to Mold Dough, and he was the first to reach out, taking the cup and having a tentative sip. He straightened up, his good eyecing sparkling with awe. He held the cup out to Venom Dough silently.
Hesitantly, the middle sibling took the cup, sniffed the liquid inside, then sipped. Wow. They held the cup out quickly to Pom-pom, their cheeks flushed slightly. That had tasted so good, it was hard to accept that it had been given so freely to one of them.
“Don't get too used to it,” Venom Dough warned quietly. Something that tasted good could be used as leverage. Anything pleasant was a privilege, and privileges were easily revoked.
Pom-pom nodded, and looked between her elder siblings, before sipping at the juice with a degree of reverence. She wanted to make the sweet taste last as long as possible.
The three sat in relative quiet after that exchange. That was what they had been taught to do, when in the company of others. Remain quiet. Seen but not heard. Dark Enchantress was sure to ingrain that in the three. They weren't meant to be a part of the conversation, the day-to-day routine. They were weapons, nothing more. A means to an end.
The smell of cooking food wafted into the dining room, making the siblings’ mouths water. It smelled fantastic. Was that delicious smell really something being made… for them?
“Why do you think she's doing this?” Pom-pom Dough asked quietly, looking over toward the kitchen door. From her vantage point, she saw Pastry and Red Velvet, both hard at work cooking.
“To gain our trust, maybe?” Mold Dough offered.
Venom Dough's eyecing narrowed toward the kitchen entrance. Whatever the reason for this benevolence, it didn't even feel real, much less appropriate. Going to all this trouble just for the three of them couldn't truly be without ulterior motive, could it? Venom, ever the strategist, compartmentalized the thought away, keeping it in the back of their mind. ‘Play along, but don't grow complacent. It could be a trap.’
“Just keep on your guard,” Venom Dough said, crossing their arms. The other Doughs nodded quietly. Pom-pom toyed with the frayed ends of her sleeves. Mold Dough scratched at one of the patches of mold on his forearm.
That was when Red Velvet came into the dining area, carrying several plates in his mismatched arms. Pastry exited after him, carrying the remaining plates. They were piled with mac and cheese, cooked meat jellies, bread rolls, and a separate plate each with cut up strawberries and whipped cream.
Cutlery was set out for them, as well. The entire situation was wholly foreign to the three, who didn't move a muscle at first. Pastry said a quiet prayer over her own food, before picking up her fork. Her eyecings flicked to the three, briefly, before she began to eat. The Doughs seemed smart. She figured they would copy her movements.
Red Velvet wasted no time in digging into his portion of dinner, and it seems his movement was what got the three to try and handle the forks they were given. It was a bit clumsy, but each of the siblings found their grip, and poked at different parts of their food.
“Is this really for us?” Venom Dough inquired flatly. They had to ensure this wasn't some kind of endurance test, a test of willpower. The other two Doughs looked at their former commander, and at Pastry, seeking reassurance.
“Of course. You are free to eat as much as you want, and there's more if you're still hungry,” Pastry said, before glancing over to Red Velvet, then gently elbowing him. His ear flicked, and he broke his concentration, looking at his girlfriend, before across the table to his guests.
“She's right. Eat,” he said, gesturing to their food. That was an order, wasn't it?
The three each used their forks, poking into whatever drew their interest. Mac and cheese for Pom-pom, meat jellies for Mold, and strawberries for Venom. Each one brought the fork to their mouth in unison. And, as each one took a bite, their expressions blanked, as if they were trying to process what they had just taken in.
It was delicious.
It was the first fresh food any of them had ever experienced. Food that wasn't tainted with a musty basement flavor, that didn't have an unpleasant, squishy texture. It didn't leak strange ooze when chewed, sting their mouths, or scream quietly when bitten down on, like the pale, undercooked mush that Butter Roll often fed them. And, when swallowed, didn't invoke a sense of nausea or filthiness. It was a moment of raw indulgence, overstimulation in the best way imaginable.
The siblings had different reactions to the experience. Pom-pom, the least patient, began to eat quickly, like a starving animal. Mold's hands shook slightly as he forced himself to stay in control, taking measured bites of his dinner, trying to make it last. And Venom seemingly bowed their head in reverence. That was until they sniffled quietly, wiped their lone eyecing with their sleeve, and lifted their head once more to eat with a blank expression, trying not to show any form of emotion. Emotions could be exploited, after all. And, besides that, they had to remain strong for their siblings.
“What is this stuff?” the youngest Dough asked Pastry, poking at the macaroni with her fork. Pastry's brows furrowed.
“You've never had mac n cheese?” She asked softly. Pom-pom looked down at her plate with wide-eyed reverence.
“Mac… and cheese…” she murmured, before shaking her head. “it's my favorite now! This is what I like to eat! Can I eat it tomorrow?? And the next day?!”
“Pom-pom,” Venom Dough said in a gentle, yet warning, tone. The trio weren't meant to ask for things. They looked up to meet Pastry's gaze.
“I am truly sorry our sister asked something of you. Please, don't be upset with her.”
Pastry looked confused at that. Upset? Why would she be upset? Had the siblings really been so repressed, so meticulously groomed and controlled, that simply asking questions was enough to incur the ire of their former authority figures?
“No, it's fine. You're all free to ask questions, as many as you want to,” she reassured, before looking to Pom-pom. Pastry smiled slightly. “I would be more than happy to make mac and cheese again tomorrow, but I would also like for you to try some other, new foods, too.”
“There's more tasty food?” The littlest cookie asked. Mold Dough tried not to show it, but his earcing was perked in the direction of the conversation, listening in. He, too, was invested in the idea of delicious new food that didn't make him or his siblings sick.
“There's a lot for you three to learn about, now that you're free,” Red Velvet hummed, leaning over to feed bits of his meal to Chiffon. The cake had been sleeping in his and Pastry's shared bedroom, but had come out to the sound of clinking plates, and the smell of food. He had brought the cake here before the war. He couldn't lose his closest companion like that.
“Are you sure this is okay? Being here, eating… ‘mac n cheese’? Will we really not be punished for running away?” Venom Dough asked their former commander, their tone icy. One of his pointed ears flicked towards them, then away, as he thought.
“Yes. The methods used to track you three, and keep you subservient, are destroyed. Dark Enchantress, Pomegranate, Butter Roll… none of them will be able to find you. Tomorrow, I'll help you remove your chains.”
“They'll need new clothes and shoes,” Pastry added. Red Velvet tapped his nails against the table as he absorbed the words, before nodding, leaning in to say something.
“I want to get them checked medically. Those three… what Butter Roll did when he gave them exams wasn't medicine. It was torture,” he uttered gravely. The three Doughs didn't seem interested in eavesdropping, having been trained not to listen in on others’ conversations.
Pastry's brows scrunched as she listened, her heart breaking. The siblings didn't seem much of a threat at all, sitting at the table, eating food they'd never even dreamed of. It was hard to believe they were born of such malicious intentions, never seeing peace a day in their lives.
“If they were harmed in such a way, I doubt we could simply bring them to a regular doctor without them fighting it,” she responded quietly.
“Yes, I know. I have an old associate that might be able to help us sneak them into a place with proper medicine, but...” he pursed his lips, ears flicking downward. “Again, they won't come willingly.”
“We'll figure it out, Red,” Pastry reached over to pat his striped hand. He nodded, ears erecting once more.
“You said we could have more food, right..?”
Pom-pom Dough leaned forward, breaking the moment between the two. This time, Venom Dough only pursed their lips at the seeming transgression, but didn't scold their sister.
“Yes, you m-” Pastry raised a brow. Both Pom-pom and Mold's plates were empty and completely cleaned. Venom was still taking their time, inspecting each bite beforehand. Couldn't let their guard down, even if Red Velvet said the three were safe.
“Oh, goodness. You two were hungry,” she said, quickly standing and gathering the plates. Taking them back to the kitchen, she filled both with more of the food, and brought them back. The siblings were surprised. She actually meant it when she had said they could have more.
Neither of them were going to let the opportunity go by. They ate their fill, with Pom-pom slowing down now that she wasn't as desperately hungry. Venom Dough pushed their half empty plate away from themself, towards their siblings.
“You two eat the rest of mine, as well,” they said flatly.
“Are you sure?” Mold Dough asked as he reached out, taking the plate slowly. The middle sibling could be difficult when it came to mealtime. There was a reason Venom Dough was so slender…
“I'm certain. I ate my fill,” Venom responded, sitting back and interlocking their fingers together. They sat with ramrod posture, observing, not relaxing for even a moment. Pastry observed the hesitancy to relax, and glanced over at Red Velvet.
“Red, why don't you get the guest bedroom ready for them? Venom Dough can help you,” Pastry said. Red Velvet's ear twitched, and he nodded, standing from the table. He gestured for Venom Dough to rise, and they did without complaint, following behind him silently.
Red Velvet went to the linens closet, pulling out several pillows and blankets, giving half to Venom. They looked down at the soft, fresh-smelling bundle, unsure of what to make of it.
“What is this for?” they asked, looking up at Red Velvet. His ears twitched. That was right… none of the Doughs had experienced simple creature comforts like fresh linens or blankets. The three had made do with thin, stale sheets and sad, deflated pillows.
“These are for sleeping. You'll have a proper place to rest now,” he explained, leading Venom Dough to the spare bedroom. He flicked the light on. It was a simple room, furnished with a bed, side table, lamp, and a chair in the corner. Framed cross-stitch, one of Pastry's new hobbies after leaving The Order, hung on the walls. The room was small, cozy. It smelled faintly of lavender.
“This is our…cell?” Venom Dough murmured. Red Velvet shook his head, setting the bedding down atop the bed in the center of the room. The bed itself only had a fitted sheet on it, a blank slate.
“This is your room. You'll sleep here, but you won't be made to stay in here all the time. Only when you want to,” he explained gently. Venom Dough set their own handful of bedding down, and pressed a tentative hand against the soft mattress. It didn't seem to make sense to them.
“This bed is so soft.”
“Yes. It's a proper mattress.”
They splayed their fingers and pressed down again. Soft…
Red Velvet set the pillows at the head of the bed, and draped a sheet, along with a thick quilt, over the top of it. The quilt was patterned with cream sheep squares. Venom Dough traced over the pattern silently with a single digit.
“What have we done to deserve all of this? The food, the bed, the…kindness?” They asked quietly, not looking up. Their hair obscured their face from Red Velvet.
“Nothing. But you haven't done anything to deserve to suffer, either, have you?”
Venom Dough sniffled. They wiped their eyecing with their sleeve, before standing straight once more.
“And if you decide we are no longer worthy of a good life?”
Red Velvet sighed, putting his hands on his hips. As always, his expression was difficult to parse, but something resembling sadness. A lifetime of being told one was undeserving of basic respect and happiness was not unlearned in a day.
“It's not my place to decide whether or not you and your siblings ‘deserve’ it. You aren't prisoners here, Venom Dough. If you want, tomorrow morning, you three could leave and never look back, and I won't stop you, because it's your choice. But… I hope you stay for a while, at least. I care what might happen to you, and to Pom-pom Dough and Mold Dough.”
Venom took the words in. Red Velvet…cared?
He hadn't been able to do anything about their imprisonment before the War started. It was too risky, the likelihood of being caught would be high. But in the chaos of the battlefield, they had run off. Venom had assumed that Red Velvet had escaped with the siblings solely because he was their commander. But now? He had revealed that he was invested in their well-being. He… cared.
“I'll speak with the other two and see what they think,” was all they could muster, not meeting Red Velvet's gaze. If a happy, safe life was truly possible… if they could live without fighting, crumbling, hurting… the choice was obvious. Venom Dough promised to take care of their siblings, and by the Witches, they would serve that mission until their body broke down to crumbs, and those crumbs became crumbs.
“Venom Dough,” Mold said from the doorway, breaking the moment between Venom and Velvet. The broad shoulders of Mold barely fit within the frame of the door. He scratched the back of his neck, his good eyecing dulled with the sleepiness of a full belly.
“Is this our cell?” He asked, looking around. Poor guy could only keep his eye half open. There was a lively warmth in his cheeks that Venom had never seen before.
“This is our room. We… may come and go as we please,” they responded. His sleepy mind didn't seem to really process the weight of that statement, as he merely nodded in response.
“Where are the cots?”
“We don't have a cot. This is a… a real bed.”
Red Velvet left the room, allowing the siblings to talk. Venom waved Mold over, who shuffled in with the stiffness of an abused animal, waiting for a strike. Venom Dough took their brother's hand, and had him press it against the mattress.
“This is where we will…sleep?” He asked, confused. It was so pillowy, he didn't think he'd felt anything that soft before. Venom nodded.
“Yes. Go ahead, lay down…” they pulled the blankets back, allowing the big cookie to climb in. He laid out on his back, not unlike a starfish, simply taking in the softness, the comfort. He groaned softly. This felt life-changingly good. The chronic ache in his bulky shoulders and back was beginning to ease.
“Venom?”
“Yes?”
“How long will we stay here?”
They looked away from their brother, pursing their lips. How long…?
“I don't know yet. We'll talk more in the morning, after we've slept. Okay?” They came over, sitting on the bed. They ran one bandaged hand through Mold Dough's curls, a comforting gesture they had done a thousand times before.
Mold Dough's eye closed. The long day of travel, the good meal, and the soft bed were all far too much for him to fight the rising tide of sleepiness. Venom's comforting hair pets were all he needed to be lulled to rest.
And, as he drifted off, Red Velvet re-entered the bedroom. He was carrying Pom-pom in his cake arm; the youngest of the three had fallen asleep at the dinner table. Quietly, he stepped over, laying the small cookie beside her brother. Pom-pom curled up instantly against his warm body.
Venom Dough watched their siblings. Their heart was filled with a strange, warm sensation. Was this… happiness? Satisfaction? They held their hand over their chest.
“Sleep as long as you'd like. There's no training in the morning,” Red Velvet said, turning to leave. Venom grabbed him by his cookie arm, causing the former Commander's ear to flick. He looked back over at Venom.
“...Thank you,” they whispered, tears welling in their lone eyecing. A moment of intense vulnerability, a level of weakness they had usually saved for late nights, when no other cookie could see them cry. Red Velvet nodded, once. He wasn't very good at handling other's emotions.
“You… should get to bed, too. You've been pushing yourself the hardest for too long,” he murmured. Venom Dough let go, and nodded, stepping toward the bed.
“Is that an order?”
Velvet raised a brow, but grinned, wolfish teeth exposed.
“Yes. Get some sleep. That's an order.”
He left the room, making sure to turn the light off and shut the door. The bedside lamp was on, bathing the room in a cozy, dim light. Venom took a moment longer to watch their siblings sleeping. The only movement was the rise and fall of their chests. The two weren't squirming from stomach pain, or shivering from the cold. So, this was peace. This was safety.
Wiping a tear from their face, they moved to get into the bed as well, on the opposite side of Pom-pom. They used their psionic power to pull the quilt over the three of them. In mere moments, they too were pulled into a deep, restful sleep, curled up with their beloved siblings.