uelle [hetalia x reader]

butter and sugar [iceland x reader]

"I want to bake something with you!"

A look of slight apprehension flickers across Emil's already pale features from where he sits next to you on the couch of your shared apartment.

"Would you care to be more specific?"

You nod, still eager.

"Bread! I've never made bread before and it seems like a challenge!" You cuddle in closer to him and glance up to gauge the expression in his violet eyes.

"Are you sure? I'm awful at cooking, you know that." You giggle, remembering a particularly sticky attempt of his to make a cake for your anniversary. It was a sweet notion, but had ended in one very frustrated Emil.

"I'll be there to help, okay?" Freeing yourself from the warm clutches of your boyfriend's arms, you reach a hand out to him. "It'll be fun, what with all the snow outside. Don't you think it'll feel so cozy?"

"It's plenty cozy on this couch."

You roll your eyes and tug him into the kitchen, setting him to work measuring out salt, sugar, flour and butter.

"The recipe says to cube the butter, d'you know how to do that?" You ask him, flour already streaked across your forehead.

"As in. . . cut it into cubes? No, I feel like I'd need a ruler to do that." He responds dryly, as you brush up next to him.

"Okay then, watch me." Taking the knife from his hands gently, you cut the stick of butter in half, and then chop it up lengthwise into quarters, before cutting it the other way to form cubes. You pass the knife and other half of the butter stick back to him. "Your turn, my dear." Emil's hands tremble slightly as he takes it from you.

"What do I do again?"

"I would start by maybe taking the wrapper off."

He blushes red, while you chortle.

"I'll leave you to it, okay?"

You continue your work, dissolving yeast in warm water and adding the rest of the ingredients to the bowl of your electric mixer.

"Alright Em, I'm gonna need that butter right about now."

"Coming right up!" He laughs, stepping aside to reveal perfectly shaped cubes of butter.

"Whoa, did you actually use a ruler?"

Emil keeps laughing, dumping the butter into the bowl.

"No, but I used to make bread with Lukas when I was little. It was much different, but I would do all the cutting and dicing for him. I guess it's just muscle memory." He smiles as you flick on the mixer, watching the ingredients blur together. "You'd think he'd never let me anywhere near a knife, but I guess he trusted me with that." A wistful pause. "It was always snowing just like this, too."

A grin spreads across your face and you give him a gentle kiss on the cheek, eyelashes fluttering against faintly freckled skin.

"Aww, that's so sweet!"

"You better not tell him I said that." Emil responds as he wraps you in a hug, voice muffled against the crook of your neck. You can feel his breath softly puff against your skin, before he untangles himself from your grasp. "Okay, what's next?"

You work together easily after that, until the dough is pale and moonlike and ready to be set away to rise.

The rest of the day passes quickly, in a blur of fluffy blankets and mugs of tea as you spend the remainder of your Sunday afternoon in each other's arms.

--

A particularly delicious smell greets you as you slip through the front door, dropping your bag on the floor and following your nose to the kitchen, where Emil is crouched in front of the oven, face bathed in a soft glow.

"Whatcha doin' there, Em?"

He jumps up, flushing pink.

"I didn't know you'd be finished with classes yet!"

Nodding, you lean against the countertop next to him.

"Got let out early. Were you trying to surprise me with bread?"

Slim hands run through his waves of silvery-blonde hair sheepishly, saying nothing.

"That's so sweet of you!"

"What? You really think so?"

More blushing. "It's just bread."

"I still think it's sweet!"

You both stare at each other, the slightest tinge of teenage embarrassment floating through the air, cut only by the incessant beeping of Emil's phone timer going off.

Your face splits into a grin alongside Emil's as he dons a pair of oven mitts, sliding the baking pan onto the stovetop.

"Ah, it looks so good!"

You reach a hand out to touch it, but he grabs it at the last second.

"It's hot, don't burn your hands!"

Emil takes off the mitts, nodding. "You're right, it really does. I'm surprised I didn't mess it up."

"That's because it was made with love!" You drag out the last word, hugging him tightly.

"God, you're so cheesy."

"Sure, but you still love me!"

The sweet-scented air was as warm as your heart felt.

--

*posts this and disappears for another 800 years*

it's february and fucking COLD here and I like to stress bake so uhhh ya that's how this was born

ty for reading i luv yall 

xx crescent