literature

Thinking of You|2p! England x Reader REQUEST!

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Published: Sep 18, 2013

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Literature Text

A 2p! England story requested by the amazing myksz!

"I can't believe it..." you whispered, trying hard to bite back the tears that were welling quickly in your eyes. "How could this have happened?" 
Plop. Plop. Plop. Tears dripped from the tip of your nose and onto the piece of paper that was clutched in your hands, bearing the header of "quarterly report card". When you had received said document a few minutes ago, you had expected nothing short of perfection; after all, you were a top student and a hard worker! But instead of blissful preeminence, a big, fat F stuck out like a sore thumb at the bottom of the list. You had failed a class! You were completely humiliated, especially given what class you had been unsuccessful in passing; cooking class. 
That's right; a stupid cooking class! A stupid cooking class that you hadn't even wanted to take in the first place! It had all been your mother's idea. She had been itching to stick you in that class ever since you had accidentally under-cooked the turkey last Thanksgiving. And even though you had tried to convince her that it hadn't been your fault, that the oven was broken and had beeped too soon, she had signed you up anyways. And now look where you were.
Welcome to failure town. Population; you. 
"This is horrible!" you whispered to yourself, wiping your eyes as you shoved book after book into your camo-patterned book bag. "I can't believe it! Out of all the stupid things to fail..." this was officially the worst day of your life. 
To most people, failing a cooking class wouldn't be a big deal, especially since you were only messing around with Betty Crocker cake mixes and such, and learning to bake instant pies. But to you, this was a life or death situation. Your father and mother were both excellent bakers, and had even worked as pastry chefs for a while before you were born! In fact, they had met each other while working together on a wedding cake, and it had been true love ever since. You came from a family of bakers! You should be able to follow simple instructions from the back of a box and make a decent cake! But no. It was no use; you were dismal at baking, and that was that. 
Whirling around and sniffing loudly, you prepared yourself to run for the bus...and ended up smashing into someone instead. 
"Ouch!" you cried, falling to the ground and landing directly on your rear-end. Blinking back more tears, your rubbed your sore derrière and winced. Surely it would be bruised! "Ow..." 
"Oh dear, are you alright?" came a worried voice, calling out to you. "I'm terribly sorry, wasn't watching where I was going!" you looked up into the freckled face of a boy you knew all too well. A boy by the name of Oliver Kirkland, who just happened to be the star of your cooking class...and your secret crush. This day just kept getting better and better.
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." you muttered, taking his hand and hoisting yourself upwards, brushing off the dirt from your pant legs. 
"Hold on a mo', you look a bit upset." he mused, peering curiously at you. "Ah, no, scratch that. You look completely upset! What's happened, poppet?" 
"Nothing. It's embarrassing really, and quite frankly, none of your business." you said, wiping your eyes hastily and turning away, but finding that you couldn't move an inch. Your gaze traveled down to your wrist, where a terribly freckled hand held you firmly in place. "Excuse me—"
"Now, I know it isn't polite to interrupt a lady, but I must say this; I am a self-proclaimed gentleman, and as such, it is my duty to help others in need. And, after seeing a lady such as yourself in such an obvious state of distress, it would go against everything I stood for to just leave you like this." 
"Please let go of my arm." you said through gritted teeth, giving your right arm a tug. His hand didn't budge, and neither did his stern expression. 
"I'll let go of you if you tell me what's wrong." he said, flashing you a small smile. Your heart fluttered, and you could feel the heat rise rapidly to your cheeks, but you still shook your head stubbornly and looked away. 
"I-I can't. You'll laugh at me." 
"I wouldn't laugh at you! There's nothing funny about something upsetting you!" he cried, patting your hand gently. You gulped as your stomach twisted into knots; why was he always able to turn you into a blushing, stammering idiot? 
"It's stupid..." you muttered, but Oliver's gentle smile never faded. "Well, okay. I...I failed my cooking class."  
"Is that it?" he asked, shock evident on that stupid, annoying, irresistibly adorable. "You failed your cooking class? How?" 
"I-I don't know!" you cried. "I'm not even sure how it happened! All I know is...well, I've failed. And if you're not going to do anything but ask me "how" I managed to screw up this badly—"
"Wait, wait! I'm sorry!" he yelled, catching your hand once again and pulling you back. What was it with this guy and holding hands? "I'm sorry, _____. I shouldn't have...well, what I meant to say was, do you know how you failed?" 
"That's the same question you just asked me!" 
"Ah! No, no! I meant, like...did you bake the wrong kind of dessert, or burn it, or...or use vanilla sprinkles instead of chocolate—"
"Oh." suddenly, you felt like a jerk for flaring up like that. "No. I don't know why, or how, or even when I failed. All I know is that my parents are going to kill me, and this'll probably be the last time you ever see me, so goodbye."
"Now, hold on! Don't be so dramatic!" Oliver said, smiling in spite of the situation. "Maybe I could help you." 
"How could you help me? The damage is already done. Even if I can somehow whip up a batch of super-delicious madeleines, that doesn't change the fact that there's a bright red F on my report card!" 
"Maybe not, but at least you could prove to your parents that you aren't a total failure at baking despite what your report card says! I mean, think about it. It couldn't hurt." you seriously thought about it. 
Oliver was at the top of your class, baking and decorating the most beautiful cupcakes as if it were as natural as breathing. And with you being so low on the totem pole that you weren't even on it, you could do with some practice, even if it didn't help in lessen the guilt of failing a class. 
"Well...okay. But we can't do it at my house, because then my parents would definitely see. That would sort of defeat the whole purpose of getting extra practice, now wouldn't it?" 
"I agree." Oliver nodded. "But perhaps we could use the classroom! I'm pretty sure Ms. Shelly won't mind, especially since she'll probably never find out. We'll have everything we need in there; mixing bowls, whisks, cake batter, icing..." he trailed off as he listed the supplies on his fingers, a slightly...insane look dancing in his startlingly blue eyes. 
"If you say so..." you muttered, snapping him out of his eerie trance. "C'mon. Lets get this over with. There's a new episode of The Office on tonight, and I don't want to miss it." Oliver chuckled and patted your shoulder. 
"Don't worry. We'll be done faster than you can say "Bob's your uncle"!" 
Apparently, Oliver hadn't known what a horrible baker you were, because his wide smile had been slowly dwindling over the past ten minutes as he watched you crack eggs messily and get half the shell in the mix, spill flour all over yourself, and even swap the measurements for oil and water. Now, his lips were taught in what seemed to be a very strained smile. 
"Okay, okay. Let's try this once more." he sighed, trying to pull his lips up higher. "Now, watch me crack an egg, and then you can try next, alright? Oh dear...well, er, we're out of eggs..."
"This is hopeless!" you cried, throwing off your apron and sinking to the floor. "Let's just face the fact that I'm a horrible baker and that's all I'll ever be!" 
"Hey now! Don't pull such a long face!" Oliver soothed, sitting down next to you. "You're not a horrible baker!"
"Oh yeah?" you snapped, tears pooling in your eyes. "Then what am I?!"
"You're...you're...well, you're certainly not horrible." a small sob escaped you, sending a jolt down Oliver's spine. He hated to see girls cry, especially nice girls like you. "Oh dear, _____. Don't cry, please! It's not the end of the world! So you're not good at baking! Big deal! I hear you're wonders on the piano!" 
"B-but my parents don't care about piano!" you sobbed, throwing your arms around him. "All they ever say to me is, "this Mac and Cheese is overdone", or "why can't you make your sister a sandwich without setting the kitchen on fire"! They act as if I want to do this, as if I want to suck!" 
"_____, listen to me. You don't suck!" Oliver cried, wrapping an arm awkwardly around your shoulder. "Far from it! I think you're just dandy!" 
"Y-yeah right!" you hiccuped. "You don't have to lie to me, please!" Oliver lifted your chin with his thumb, momentarily halting your tears as you stared up at him in shock. "O-Oliver—"
"_____...I wouldn't like about something like this." he said, and his voice was so uncharacteristically serious that it made you stop and listen. "Trust me, you are far from horrible. You are a sweet, kind, and beautiful girl who just happens to be talented in areas that don't involve the kitchen. You can play the piano amazingly, and you're just wonderful at math! I can't even so simple fractions, and you're taking a calculus class! I can't even begin to imagine..." 
"You think so?" you whispered, cheeks flushing at such compliments. You felt so...light and airy all of the sudden. The knot in your chest was suddenly loosening at an alarming speed, sending all of the air whooshing from your lungs. Oliver was so close to you now that you could count every one of his freckles. 
"Of course I think so. In fact, since I think you're so fantastic, I'll let you in on a secret, if you'd like." 
"Er...okay." 
"If you truly want to bake and cook, you must never forget to think of someone special while you prepare the meal. Because when you eat it with that special person, it tastes all the better. And I can't help but let myself think of you every time I see a cute, pink cupcake with violet blue sprinkles." 
"Oliver...that's very...I...really?" you giggled. "You're reminded of me by a cupcake?" 
"What?! Oh, no! No, no, no! I didn't mean it like that!" 
"Sure, whatever you say crazy-face." 
"_____! I swear! Where are you going?!" 
"I'm going to get more baking mix! This time, I'll think of you!"

I have finally finished it! My life's work!

*wipes sweat from brow* OMG, it took me years!
~~_{Not really, but, still. It was fucking ridiculous how long it took!}~~
Anyways, this was a request from

, who is such a sweetie and wonderfully patient person!~ Thanks for understanding, dear!

I hope this was what you wanted! And I hope YOU enjoyed it as well!
Thank you for reading/favoriting/commenting! It really does mean the world to me!