Nocturnal Me (Nameless Ghoul Rain/Water x Reader)

Chapter 16- Saffron and Sex Education

     When you were little, your grandmother always made a variety of baked goods, whether it be bread, cookies, biscuits, or pies. She was a wonderful baker, not so much a wonderful cook. One recipe she always loved to make were saffron buns, or as she called them, lussekatter. It was always a tradition around Saint Lucy's Day, and your grandmother always busied herself with making everything as perfect as she could. She did not stop at food, sadly, and her obsession of perfection included nearly waterboarding you with a wet washcloth to get every crevice of your face free of dirt, and starching your dress so stiffly that you couldn't sit down in fear of her reprimanding you not to crinkle it. You remembered how cold you always were in those thin white gowns that did absolutely nothing to protect yourself from the freezing temperatures as you served your grandmother's buns to your neighbors. You smiled sadly at the memories. Maybe you'd get to see her next year.

     You remembered the recipe word for word, having memorized the numbers and ingredients long ago. You were only a little worried that the kitchen wouldn't have any saffron, an expensive spice that only came in little amounts. A surprised hum came from your throat when you found a jar hidden all the way in the back of the pantry. You'd have to reimburse the kitchen as a thank you for lending you their space and to apologize for using the rest of their spices. You were also incredibly thankful that they had a stand mixer. You wanted to save as much energy as possible for the party tonight. You hoped the ghouls enjoyed lussekatter as much as you did.

     Milk, saffron, and sugar were all added to a large pot to heat up. You watched the yellow color leach out of the threads into the whiteness of the milk, slowly turning the liquid into a buttery color. After removing the pot from the stove and letting it cool down, yeast was sprinkled onto the surface of the milk and then was left to sit until it activated. You added your sugar, salt and flour into the stand mixer bowl and gave it all a quick stir to incorporate it together. The yeast mixture was then added and mixed, afterwards cracking eggs on the rim of the bowl and sliding in the butter and sour cream. Flour was added intermittently in between kneading, and you were left with a sticky (but not too sticky) dough that needed to be left to rise in a warm place. Covering with a tea towel, you placed it on an unused counter in the kitchen, the whole room warm enough for it to double in size.

     Finally stepping out of the swinging doors of the kitchen, you were able to breathe in the ice cool air of the cafeteria. You straightened your dress and brushed off the flour on your shoes as you meticulously balanced two sandwiches in your hand. After yesterday's debacle with the eldest and youngest Emeritus brothers, you decided to make up for your impatience with them (well, only your Papa, you're still scared of the oldest) and bring lunch as a peace offering. You didn't mean to snap at them, but there's only so much bickering you were willing to sit through, especially with words like 'ferger' and 'dungjack', both of which you still had no idea what meant. Your shoes echoed in the stairwell, the smell of saffron and yeast following behind you. With only one or two 'hello's from convent members passing you in the hallway, you arrived at Papa's door.

     Your fist hardly rattled the heavy wooden door as you knocked. Ikea had nothing on the ancient furniture in the church. This door could have probably been hit with a bowling ball and not have a single dent on its surface. Hell, Aether's door had that giant gash in it and it was still fully functional. You pondered about what might have happened to have caused such a mark. Papa's voice came from behind the wood.

     "Come in." You twisted the knob and pushed your way through. Papa was uncharacteristically sitting in his chair properly, his left hand scribbling away at some paper of unknown contents. For once, he was actually working. Guilt rose in you, knowing somehow Papa's productivity was in response to your scolding yesterday.

     "What a hard worker you are today, Papa. It's... unsettling." You said as you closed the door behind you. The man looked up from his desk, doing a double-take at the sight of you.