Daughter of a Witch

Baking Chaos

It was a crisp Saturday morning in Westview, the sun lazily peeking through the curtains of Agatha's cozy kitchen. The Harkness household was buzzing with excitement. Today was a special occasion-the anniversary of the day they had first moved into their little corner of Westview, a day that had turned into an annual family tradition. And what better way to celebrate than by baking a cake together?

Of course, as with most things in the Harkness household, the process was far from simple.

Y/n, standing at the kitchen island, surveyed the clutter that had already spread across the counters. Bowls were stacked haphazardly, bags of flour and sugar were torn open, and there were splashes of milk and eggshells littering the workspace. And they hadn't even started mixing the batter yet.

"Are we making a cake or a disaster zone?" Y/n teased, brushing flour from her hair as she tossed a glance toward her mom, Rio, who was eagerly rifling through a cookbook.

"Disaster? Y/n/n, this is how the magic happens," Rio grinned, her fingers skimming the pages until she found a basic cake recipe. "Well, the non-magical kind, anyway."

Agatha stood by the stove, arms folded across her chest, shaking her head with an amused smile. "We're doing this the old-fashioned way, Rio."

"Amorcito, we could have this cake done in ten minutes if you let me help a little." Rio wiggled her fingers, the tiniest spark of magic lighting the tips. "Think about it. Cake, perfect frosting, all without the hassle."

Agatha raised an eyebrow. "That's cheating."

Rio rolled her eyes, tossing the cookbook aside. "It's not cheating, mi amor. It's called being efficient."

Y/n giggled as she grabbed the mixing bowl, watching her mother's banter. "I think Mom just wants to show off her magic. Mama's the one who insists we do everything 'by the book.'"

Agatha gave Y/n a playful, exasperated look. "Your mother has no patience for tradition."

"Tradition, mi vida, is overrated," Rio shot back, blowing a kiss in Agatha's direction. "You can't tell me this wouldn't be better with a little magic."

"And where's the fun in that?" Agatha replied, walking over to grab the eggs. "Part of the charm of baking is doing it with your hands. Mixing, measuring, getting a little messy-"

"Or a lot messy," Y/n interrupted with a grin, gesturing toward the flour now dusting every surface in the room.

Agatha couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, yes, maybe we went a little overboard."

"Mujer, you're making this harder than it needs to be," Rio said, watching as Agatha began cracking eggs one by one into the bowl. "Let me just stir it with a little-"

"No magic, Rio!" Agatha said firmly, though her smile softened the command.

Y/n leaned against the counter, already covered in flour and smudges of cocoa powder. "You're both ridiculous. As long as we get cake out of this, I'll be happy."

Rio sighed dramatically, casting a glance at her daughter. "You see what I have to put up with, Y/n? This one," she nodded toward Agatha, "is stubborn."

"And this one," Agatha retorted, gesturing toward Rio, "wants to wave her hands and get everything done in five seconds. Where's the joy in that?"

Rio rolled her eyes again, but this time with affection. "The joy is in eating the cake, mi cielo. Not in wasting time whisking the batter like it's 1692."

Agatha couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Maybe so, but I like doing things the traditional way sometimes. And I'm not budging on this one."

With a resigned sigh, Rio finally gave in and crossed her arms. "Fine, fine, mi vida. But if this cake doesn't turn out perfect, don't say I didn't offer."