Am I THAT bad? 2p!England X Reader

2p!England X Reader [For Poypul]

“Oliver!?” You called from the hallway, looking at the multiple doors, waiting for an answer from the one in question. “Oliver? You in here!?” You shouted again, unsure as to whether he was even in the house.

Just as you were about to groan and leave, you heard singing from the kitchen. Your head perked up as you listened, and you decided that that was definitely him. “There you are,” you grumbled, moving your feet to head towards the kitchen.  The Brit’s singing got louder and louder as you neared the kitchen door, and you were almost mesmerised by his sweet voice.

Then a smell hit you. It was rather sweet, with just a small hint of… what was that… decay? “Oliver?” You nudged the door open, seeing the Brit stood in front of the stove. He turned around at the mention of his name, a huge cat-like grin crawling onto his lips. “Well hello there, my dear~” he outstretched his hand towards you, gesturing for you to take it.

You hesitantly placed your hand atop of his, allowing his beautiful blue eyes to draw you in. “What are you doing in here?” You asked, as he tugged you into a hug, rocking back and forth as he continued to hum the song that he was singing earlier.

He broke off mid-note and raked a hand through your (h/c) hair. “Cupcakes~” he sang into your ear. You immediately paled. Cupcakes? What did he put in this time…? You knew how bad he was. His cupcakes were to die for. Literally. You already know that that is where Francis went.  Oliver had – in his words – ‘made him into a cake’ because he was sick of Francis trying to steal you away from him. Alfred was nearly made into one of
Oliver’s ‘delightful’ cakes after he tried to flirt with you. “Oliver…” you started, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Uhum?” He hummed, playing with a strand of your hair.

“What…” you took a deep breath, avoiding all eye contact with him. “What… or ‘who’ did you put in this batch?” You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, waiting for Oliver to shout at you or something. However, to your surprise, he merely chuckled. “Nothing, love,” he pulled away from the hug, holding you at arms-length, grinning through that huge smile of his.

You stared uncertainly into his eyes, searching for any hint of lying within his shiny blue hues. His grin faltered, the edges of his lips tugging into a frown. “What? I swear these ones are clean,” he pouted, knowing that you didn’t believe him.

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow. There was no way in hell you would eat a cupcake that was made with… with… whatever he decided ‘needed’ to be in there.

“I promise you I didn’t,” he smiled sincerely, and then held his hands up to your eyes. “Can you see in blood?” He grinned like a child. You stared at the palms of his hands for a moment, before you gaze glided over to the rest of his clothes. Your (e/c) gaze swept from his turquoise bow-tie, to his dashing pink shirt and brown waistcoat, and then down to his feet. Surely enough, there was none of that ghastly red liquid anywhere.
“Okay, okay Ollie,” the corner of your mouth twitched up into a lopsided smile. “I believe you,” you giggled. “Yay~” Oliver wrapped his arms around you again, and nuzzled your silky (h/c) hair. “Am I really that bad?” He mumbled into your hair, a sigh following his words.

“What do you mean?” You pulled away from him, tilting your head.
“Am I really that bad, that you think that I’m always that crazy as to ruin the taste of my cupcakes with human flesh?”

You thought for moment, staring into his sorrowful blue eyes. After a while of your thinking, you leaned forward and pecked him on the lips. “You’re not that bad,” you grinned. Oliver’s face broke into a large smile, he was clearly happy with your answer.
“You know,” he chuckled. “I only do it for your protection. I’m not going to let anyone else have my girl,” his grin widened. “After all,” he cupped your chin in his hands. “You are mine, my little cupcake.”