Killing Me Softly ➳ 2D x Reader

4- Blueberry Pancakes

1000+ words

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You woke up earlier than usual. The first soft rays of dawn floated through the window, turning opaque in the dusty air of your bedroom.

You slipped into your matching hello kitty house slippers and stumbled into the nearby restroom to freshen up. As requested, Murdoc left you a shower caddy filled with the basics; toothbrush, toothpaste, skin and hair products— which were unexpectedly decent.

After brushing your teeth and completing a brief skincare routine, you proceeded towards the stairs, holding onto the railing to support your still tired body.

1st order of business: Make Breakfast.

It was nothing you weren't used to. Being the first-born daughter in your family meant learning to cook as soon as you learned to count. How else do you expect to find a husband? Your parents would say. A future housewife in training; that was your role and you played it well.

As you finished pouring the remainder of the batter into the sizzling pan, you were startled by 2D's sleepy yawn.

"G'mornin'," 2D stretched, eyes squinted closed in the streaming morning sunlight.

"Oh, hey."

A broad smile stretched onto his puffy morning face as he raised his nose to the air, sniffing slowly.

"Dat smells good."

"Thanks," you smiled, setting up the plates for the rest of the band.

"You didn' make one fo' yaself?"

"Nah, I'm okay though." Your stomach growled as soon as the lie escaped your hungry lips.

"Doesn't sound like it," 2D chuckled. "C'mon have some'a mine."

"No, I made it for you. I'm fine, really." You declined, only mustering up a half-convincing smile. Your stomach growled even louder this time, as if on cue.

"Sit."

"Mm, fine," you reluctantly agreed, taking a seat next to 2D as he drenched the pancakes in maple syrup, raising a fork to your mouth.

"Dude, you don't have to fee-"

2D shut you up with a forkful of syrupy heaven. Blueberries gushed in your mouth as you chewed, eliciting a quiet moan from you.

"Mmm..."

"Good, innit?"

"Fuck yeah."

2D chuckled and fed you a few more bites until you refused to eat any more.

"C'mon Y/N. Few more."

"Mm-mm," you shook your head. He proceeded to attempt to pry your mouth open with yet another forkful of food before you bursted into laughter. "2D! You're getting syrup all over my face!"

"Heh-heh. Awright I'll stop den."

Murdoc was the next band-mate to arrive, taking the seat across from you. "Now this is more fuckin' like it. A proper bloody breakfast."

"Yeh, Y/N's a great cook. I was gettin a bit sick o' ear on toast every mornin'."

"Ear on toast? Is that a British thing?"

"You don't wanna know," 2D deadpanned.

The three of you engaged in easygoing conversation until Murdoc went off on a lengthy tangent about the hypocrisy of Abrahamic religions.

"...So what's with the crucifix on your neck then?" You asked.

"Cross of Saint Peter. I'm a satanist, darling."

"Oh...neat."

Paula waltzed in mid-conversation with both hands resting on her hips. "Well aren't you all up bright and early."

"Hey love, take a seat," 2D beckoned.

"I think I'd rather sit here," she drawled, positioning herself onto 2D's lap and planting a slow peck on his lips. "Ooh," he gasped.

"So, where's my plate?"

"C'mon Paula, we can share," 2D offered.

"D'you reckon me for a rat? Eatin' at your scraps?"

"Don't fuckin start," Murdoc groaned, rubbing at his temples. "All your whining does is give me a splitting fucking headache."

"Heh, not at all Paula. I jus' wanted to be nice is all," 2D spoke softly.

"Yeah, whatever. Y/N love, could you pass me the syrup? These pancakes look a bit dry."

"Oh um, sure."

"Faaaanks."

Well someone isn't a morning person.

A heavy-set black man—who you assumed to be the American Murdoc was telling you about, was next to enter the tense room. His pupils were not visible to you from where he was standing, but as he neared the table, you recognized that there weren't any to begin with. His eyes were a solid milky white.

What's up with everybody wearing contacts around here?

"Ayo Mudz, who's this?" He queried.

"Housekeeper," Murdoc spat through a mouthful of pancake.

You turned to face where he sat at the other end of the table.

"Um, you must be Russel. I'm Y/N."

Russel nodded once, intrigued by your foreign accent. "So, you American?"

"Yeah, I'm from Brooklyn, but I was mostly raised in (your hometown)."

"Forreal? I'm from Brooklyn too. Born and raised."

As your side conversation progressed, you learned that the two of you actually had a lot in common— including a few mutual friends. Pleasantly surprised by this discovery, Russell invited you to tour the studio with him and show you a couple of the tracks they were working on.

"Well isn't this nice," Murdoc chimed in. "I hate to cut the reunion short, but I'm afraid you've got a lot of work left to do Y/N."

"Oh yeah, of course. I'll get to it."

You already made a mental note of the chores Murdoc assigned to you because there was still no way in hell you were touching that post-it.

"Man c'mon Mudz. Give her a break."

"Deepest apologies Rus, but I'm not paying her to have a break. Trust me, it's just as hard for me as it is for you sweet'eart."

The truth was, Murdoc didn't care if you spent a few hours off. He wanted to you to himself and Russel knew it.

"Aight, I'll see ya later Y/N. And if he ever gives you any trouble, you let me know."

"Hrngh." Murdoc groaned.

One by one the rest of the members fled the room, bidding you farewell and dumping their dirty dishes in the sink.

"Right then, I'll be in my loveshack if you'd care to join me love."

"I thought you weren't paying me to take breaks?"

"Oh trust me, we'd get plenty of work done together," he winked.

You gagged. "Hard pass."

"Oh, you wound me," Murdoc agonized, clutching at his heart.

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