Hey there! Anything new? Hehe, anyways, as of late I've grown obsessed with the Undertaker X Grell pairing. I love it and I just can't get enough! So, I decided to give it try. Welp, since we all know I'm not Yana Toboso, we can all agree that I don't own anything but the plot.
Warning: I believe this will be a long one. I have a main idea, yet the plot bunnies always attack them, making them bigger than what they really are. Also, mildly suggestive themes towards the end. No like, no read!
That said my dear readers, enjoy ;)
Rain poured down from the sky, mercilessly drenching any unfortunate passerby. In this case, the unfortunate soul to be caught in this last minute storm was the one and only red reaper, Grell Sutcliffe.
She was freezing, she was wet and her makeup was runny. Today was definitely not her day. But, she felt numb. She hardly felt the water pelting her back, the cold was only a sensation she was hardly aware of. No, today was not good to her. She crossed the cobbled streets, her heels getting stained with the mud. She pulled herself onto a crate and curled up there, finally letting out all her pent up frustrations in tears.
All day she had been assigned to reap the souls of children - children! All day long! 'I swear, none of them were over the age of six!' Her heart went out for those kids. Like every time, she wished she could've spared them, yet none were special enough to be left alive. She clutched the ill-gotten coat harder against her chest, angry tears mixing with the chilled rain. How she longed to bear a child, one she could call her own; and here were these damned mortals, killing them and letting them slip from their grasps. Her late-night run-in with a prostitute on the last area she'd been in had almost reawakened half of Jack the Ripper. The way she spoke of 'those insufferable brats' and how they were only 'pests and vermin who'd ruin her life' was enough to make her blood boil with rage. For the first time since her beloved Angelina, Grell saw red. She wished to run her scythe through her and coat her in her favorite color, ripping her slowly and painfully. It was equally good and bad that she noticed her next reaping was due in just a few minutes.
So now, there she lay, curled up on some rotting crate, crying for what she knew she could never obtain.
The silver-haired mortician came and went around his shop. Today, he didn't have any new guests, so he opted to clean the place out of sheer boredom. The little Earl and his funny Butler didn't come by, and with the lack of anything to do (and noticing the ever growing dust piles on his coffins) he decided some cleaning was due. He had finished said task but a few minutes ago and was now dedicated to organizing the caskets. He took out his newest masterpiece, a pinewood coffin with delicate silver engravings over the black background. He hummed to himself as he pushed it over to the display. Positioning it carefully, he took the time to look out the window and into the rainy scene. Dull and drab as always, much like his shop. Well, his shop never had such a splash of crimson like it was outside.
…
And now that it came to mind, there never was a red like that outside his window. Undertaker squinted his eyes, focusing his gaze on the abnormal blotch of red. Curiosity now piqued, he headed to the entrance of his shop and took an umbrella. Swiftly crossing the street, the silverette reached the red blob, only to realize it was only Grell on the crate. She hadn't noticed him yet, it would seem, for she was still curled up on herself, her shoulders moving, racking her whole body. The Undertaker's smile dampened. What was a flamboyant reaper doing here all alone in this weather? He tapped her shoulder lightly. She didn't move. He tried again, a little harder this time and calling her name.
That got a reaction. She instantly sat up, swatting his hand away and summoning her Death Scythe. Her position was instantly on alert, acidic green eyes scanning the surrounding area. She slackened her posture once her eyes met his...well, his fringe to be exact. A sigh escaped her bluing lips. "Honestly, you almost gave me a heart attack! It's not polite to scare a lady so, Undertaker." She dismissed her scythe and went back to sitting on the crate, her back to him. The mortician giggled, yet he wondered if the lady would care to come inside? Surely it would be better than being out here in the rain. And what was her expression just a second ago? Had she truly been frightened by him so? Shrugging, he poker her shoulder yet again. Her response was something quite unexpected.
"Leave me alone," it was barely a whisper drowned out by the wind, yet he heard it. This just wouldn't do. "M'lady, I was only going to offer a place for you to stay while the rain subsided. Surely it wouldn't do to let you out here while I have a cozy place for you. Come, I'll have some tea prepared for us in my shop." Without waiting for consent, he picked her up and carried her off to his place, ignoring her squirming; she gave up soon enough anyway.
She weighed nothing, and she indeed was very effeminate, with those slight curves of her body and tender flesh. Her drenched locks stuck to her face, framing it in a cute manner. His eyes roamed over her form, taking in the small details. She was indeed the Red Beauty she claimed to be.
He had to stop his gazing when he felt her ringed eyes on him, a light pink dusting his cheeks at being caught. Undertaker set her down on a coffin once inside. "Why don't you go dry yourself up in the water closet? I have some towels there and a spare set of pants and shirt. It might be too big on you...ihihihi, but that's all I've got, and it's better than lounging around all wet, you'd catch your death like that hehehehehe!" Grell nodded, seeming the meek butler she had posed as when she first came into his shop. She stood and walked off to the hall at the back, turning to the Undertaker at the last minute, "Where is the water closet?" Cursing inwardly at his blunder, he hastily replied, "Next door to the right. Can't miss it, hihi." She nodded and left.
Undertaker set up a fire and started to boil some water for tea. He hummed to himself as he did, rummaging the pantry for a not-so-bitter tea. A green packet caught his eye. Peppermint. "Hmm, this out to do." He quickly scurried back to the main room with the tea and cups, where Grell had reappeared. He swore he almost dropped the tray at the sight.
She sat on the coffin she had occupied previously, his pants pooling at her feet and the sleeves too long on her slender arms. Her hair was messily tied in a bun, yet silken crimson lock escaped their confines, brushing at her neck and bangs neatly parted, framing her ivory face. It was strangely alluring to see her wear his things. His feet stumbled and he hardly regained his balance when she set her eyes on him. The familiar heat spread on his chest rose to his cheeks, his fringe thankfully hiding the reaction. "Here we go. Tea for the lovely lady." The rare sweet smile she directed at him stunned the mortician. She gracefully took the offered beaker and with a low voice, one quite unused by her, she said, "Thank you."
Undertaker's smile was lighter this time, more gentle and less forced. "Hihihihi, no problem m'dear." He sat on the coffin parallel to hers so he could observe her. Taking a sip from his tea, he let out a satisfactory sigh.
"So, why was the lady all alone, drenching herself in the rain?" A glance at the redhead told him it was the wrong question. She flinched and hid her lovely face behind the beaker. When she did speak, it was in a mousy voice. "N-no reason." Once again, Undertaker's frown dampened. The red-obsessed reaper had caught his attention from day one. From when she strangled him and then buried him in salt. When she was out there, chasing foolishly after William and Master Butler, all of her antics, he found adorable. The Reaper Society had gotten stricter, with more restrictions and rules. Everyone seemed to work, work, work and work. Everything became monotonous, yet somehow, she came, emerging as a beautiful splash of red over the boring tones of grey and somberness. She was something else, and he liked that about her. He liked her, he realized. He only wasn't sure of the extent of his affections.
Casting those thoughts away, he shook his head, surprisingly, without unsettling his bizarre top-hat. "Well there oughtta' be a reason. My guests always confide me their secrets, and I've never told a soul about them! Hehehe~!" The beginnings of a smile pulled at her lips. She bowed her head, pretending that the tea was more interesting, "I only had a bad day, and I didn't want to go back to the Dispatch." For some reason, Undertaker didn't think that was all.
"Well, I guess you and I are on the same boat on that. If m'lady can keep a secret, I'd be willing to share it." He enticed, hoping to keep the conversation going and get her to open up to him. She looked up at him with burning curiosity, nodding her head and causing a strand of hair to shift over to her eyes. The silverette reacted on instinct, pushing the stray lock back in its proper place. The strand was as soft as it looked, making him wonder what it would feel like to grasp more of those luscious locks in his hands. Red came over the younger reaper's face, giving it an adorable look.
"I can keep secrets. I'm good with those." The mortician smiled. "Alrighty. Then I confess m'lady, my day wasn't that good either." He sat back, remembering all the new orders he had gotten earlier that day. Thankfully, his guests hadn't arrived yet, so he could mentally prepare himself for the horrors to come. "I got orders for some caskets, but these were for lil' ones. I can't stand it when they leave so young." At that, Grell's head snapped up, focusing on him. "You don't like it when children die?" The disbelief in her tone angered the elder, but he kept most of it at bay, quickly snapping his reply. "Of course I don't. They're too little to leave this world! So young, so innocent! They- they," He didn't know how to continue, but… he didn't have to. "They had a whole life ahead of themselves. I know what you mean. I hate reaping them because of that." She tried to look into his hypnotic eyes, but was met with his fringe, as always. She turned away after that.
"All my reapings consisted of children today, and I had an unfortunate run-in with some whore that almost made me revive Jack." she confessed. Why am I telling him this? This isn't like me at all! She didn't know, but when she felt strong arms encircle her, bringing her into a warm embrace, she lost control of all her actions. Her hands snaked over his shoulders, grabbing fistfulls of the silver hair as sobs racked her body once more. The mortician only held her tighter, rocking her slightly and humming a relaxing tune.
For how long they stayed like that, neither knew, yet none would admit that they didn't want it to end. Slowly, the redhead relaxed, calming down with the Undertaker's actions. Said reaper only looked down at her in adoration. She held such a brave front, with all her flamboyancy and eccentricity, everyone forgot she had her sad moments too. No one held her like he did, no one was really ever there to comfort her but him. And it felt… nice. It was a warm feeling, soothing. She was quickly becoming addicted.
"Thank you." her words were filled with a seldom used sincerity. As always, the mortician only smiled, genuinely this time. That seemed to happen a lot when she was near. The real smiles. He knew he was already done for; he was addicted.
They parted reluctantly, unwilling to leave the comfort of their embrace, yet unsure of the other's feelings. Undertaker was the first to speak.
"You know m'lady, I've ran out of cookies. I was going to offer some before I found I didn't have any. Mayhaps you'd like to accompany me whilst I bake?" He extended a hand as invitation. Eagerly returning the gesture, the younger reaper's spirits lifted. "Can I help you bake them?" She asked excitedly. "Of course~! Hihihihihi, it'll prove to be fun."
Grell's cheshire smirk made an appearance, brightening the Undertaker's mood. "Though I must say, I've tried your cookies and I know~ I can make better ones." He raised an eyebrow. "Oh really~? Would the lady care to put her money where her mouth is~?" he asked playfully. The redhead's grin took on a hint of playful malice. "Why not~? It's always fun to beat someone," a glint of excitement invaded her eyes, "And if we make this into a competition~?" Undertaker formed a grin of his own. "Oh~ yes, yes! Each makes a batch of their best cookies. Loser has to do as the winner says for the rest of the day?" Grell agreed.
They raced to the kitchen, each taking one of the pink aprons hanging on the rack. Grell instantly teasing him for it, earning bouts of laughter in return. "Feel free to look for anything you need~! Beware the spare organs I hide." The younger made a face, once again making the mortician laugh. Picking up on the joke, she laughed in return, though still weary. One couldn't be too sure with the Undertaker.
Both reapers took up a corner of the kitchen, weighing and mixing the ingredients. The unspoken rule of not getting into the other's space was violated when they both reached for the flour. Their fingers brushed, sending electricity through their veins. Blushed spread on their faces, each facing away from the other. As a way to conceal the feeling he didn't know how to explain, Undertaker suddenly threw some flour on the other's face, dusting it white as a ghost. Miffed, Grell stood stiff while the cloud dissipated, only returning to the real world when the silverettes laughter pulled him out of his state.
A smirk came back into place. She retaliated by throwing flour in his face. Now it was his turn to stiffen. Both reapers eyed the other, before bursting into fits of laughter. An evil glint in his eyes, Undertaker kept up the fight, throwing more flour at the red reaper. They engaged in an all out war, throwing whatever they could get their hands on at the other. Luckily, the only thing that their hands reached was flour, baking powder and salt. Otherwise, it would've been hell to clean.
Undertaker flung a fistfull of flour at his opponent, but he didn't take into account the wooden spoon at his feet. At the last second, he slipped, taking down the unsuspecting redhead with him. They each closed their eyes, landing in a heap with Undertaker over Grell. He pushed out his arms so as not to crush the petite reaper beneath him.
The silver-haired reaper sneaked a peek and was glad to see that Grell was okay. Her eyes were screwed shut, nose scrunched in the most adorable manner possible. She peered at him from beneath her lashes, cheeks instantly flushing heatedly when she found herself staring at the man's enchanting orbs.
Time seemed to freeze between the two. Heat pooled in their chests, red creeping through their necks and up to their ears. There seemed to be less air, the place becoming more constricted as their hearts sped. They could feel the other's breaths, teasing and enticing.
Undertaker shifted over her, slowly leaning down. His stomach was in knots and he couldn't think straight. Was this what it was like to be in love? It'd been so long he couldn't really remember. Beneath him, the red reaper was in the same trance as he, bewitched by those eyes; so like hers, yet they were so different from the others. They were unique, drawing her to him. She let the elder approach, lidded eyes focusing solely on him. Their lips were a breath away, almost brushing with the other's; their hearts threatening to burst out of their confines.
CRASH!
A glass jar containing milk splattered onto the floor, breaking into tiny fragments, snapping them out of their daze. Realizing their positions, they scrambled off the floor, blushing madly.
"Eh~... sorry. I-I'll get to cleaning that." Undertaker muttered, swiftly turning away from the now-dejected smaller reaper in search for a cloth and the trash. "U-uh, yeah. It's fine." Each went to their task, hardly concentrating at all.
The mortician got a few scrapes with the glass while picking it up for thinking about the other reaper, while Grell's fingers wouldn't stop shaking from equal parts adrenaline and anxiety. She swallowed hard, wishing that the shattered glass hadn't gotten in the way. A strong desire to feel the mortician's lips on her engulfed her, heat radiating from her body and collecting strongly at her core.
It was silent between the two, until sick of the silence, Undertaker let out a joke. They laughed, regaining the calm and friendly atmosphere from before and ebbing away the awkwardness. Soon, they'd each placed their batches on the oven. Undertaker having made his usual bone-shaped cookies and Grell placing some star-shaped ones. The male reaper sat on a stool and watched as the redhead went about taking another bowl and a few more ingredients.
"What'cha doin' m'lady?" he tried to look at what she was doing, yet her back covered her work. Oh well, her back was nice to look at anyway. It had a nice curve to it and it moved gracefully. He decided to watch her instead. "I like to put icing on my cookies." she replied without looking up from her task. He stayed where he was, watching her handle herself in his kitchen, wearing his clothes and humming a little song. The words slipped past her lips easily, hitting every note perfectly. He enjoyed just laying back for a while, watching and listening at the shinigami before him.
The smell of just-about-ready cookies brought him back from his daze. He put mittens on and carefully pulled out the trays with their treats. He set them on the counter and cleaned up the remaining bowls and such while they cooled. Grell did the same after finishing up the icing. She put dollops of the fluffyness on the cookies, spreading it slightly before placing them in a platter, next to the Undertaker's. The man had to admit, those looked good with the velvet frosting. He served two tall glasses of milk and placed them on a coffin by the fire in the main room. Grell followed with the plated goods.
They took their previous seats, each taking a glass. "Alrighty then~ What's the rules?" Grell smirked. "Unnie darling~ There are no rules. Simply, the best one wins." The mortician chuckled, easily picking a star-shaped cookie; Grell mirroring his actions with one of his creations.
Biting into the baked goods, a world of flavor exploded in their mouths. Undertaker's creations, while on the crispy side, were sweet; perfect to accompany some bitter-tasting tea. Grell munched on those happily, enjoying the irresistible texture. Undertaker gazed at him from the corner of his eyes, admiring the redhead's happiness at such simplicity. And of course, the precious flavor and chewy feel the treat he was eating put him in an even greater mood.
To him, Grell was something else. Someone to be cherished, she could easily brighten one's day with a nice conversation and the company of her true nature; not the faux one she used to fool everyone into believing she was happy, when in reality, she was bleeding inside.
"I take it back. You're much better at this than me!" giggled the ginger. She bit off half of one of her treats, washing it down with milk. Undertaker joined with a much more macabre guaff. "Then does that mean I win, m'lady~?" Grell nodded.
"Unless you have something to say about my treats?" The elder reaper complied. "While they indeed were prettier, mine were still, in every other way, better~! Hihihihihi~!" He laughed when a black glove met his face. "You don't have to be mean about it!" Grell had to be joking. How can a grown biological man pull off a pout so adorable? I swear, he does this on purpose, thought the man; eyes tracing the redhead's lips.
"Hihihihihi, excuse me, m'lady."
"Alright, fine. You win." She peeked at him from under her lashes. "What are you going to do now?" That made the mortician's gears get to work. It was already a bit past midnight, and he knew the other to be tired. A part of him wanted to be a gentleman and let the rose rest, but another side wanted to have the redhead squirming in pleasure and calling his name. She was bound to him for the rest of the night, after all. He quickly shook those thoughts from his mind. He'd have enough time for that once he made her his. For tonight, he would behave.
"Hmm. It's already late, mayhaps the lady would wish to sleep?" She looked taken aback at his answer. "Uh… are you sure? There is nothing you wish from me?" The face she pulled was concerning. Was she really expecting him to fully exploit the power he now held for his own pleasures? Just what's been going on with the redhead?
Undertaker reined in his thoughts once more. "Of course not. Some other day you could help me around the mortuary, but for now, you need to rest, don't you? M'lady's had quite a long day after all." There was a tenderness in his tone that surprised and astonished the red reaper. She could only nod, not trusting her voice. "Hihi, well then, I'm afraid I've neglected the bed in the back room, so the most I can offer is one of my best coffins for you to sleep in." He seemed apologetic, yet he grinned and continued, "Not to worry though, my guests have never complained. In fact they like those so much, that their families pay so they can keep them! Hihihihihihi~!" Grell cracked a smile and a chuckle soon followed. "Hehe, alright. Now that you mention it, I truly am tired."
Undertaker complied, taking her to one of the newer caskets and lifting her into it. A little surprised squeak left her lips, and the mortician was sorely tempted to entice more sounds like those come out of her. He set her down gently and was about to leave for his own, when a hand to his wrist detained him.
When he turned around, he certainly didn't expect soft, plump lips on his cheek, narrowly missing his mouth. The feeling wasn't there for long, for as soon as they came, they were gone; leaving an unusual emptiness in him. She had a sheepish smile, a blush of her favorite color adorning her cheeks. "Thanks. It… y-you really made me feel… better." Moved by the rare display of kindness and affection, the Undertaker only grinned. "Why it was a pleasure. I don't get much living guests. Your company was much appreciated." His grin widened. "And I got two batches of scrumptious treats, it was a great deal."
This enticed a sweet smile from the generally eccentric reaper. "Goodnight, Unny."
She shifted back into the coffin, placing her arms over her chest as if dead. Undertaker chuckled morbidly. "The dead don't rest like that." He said it mostly to himself, shaking his head. Though, the ginger heard him. She peered at him lazily. "Then how do they sleep, mortician?" There was a playful edge to her tone, laced with concealed silverette wasn't expecting an answer, and when he did get one, he couldn't seem to control himself. He flung himself at the other shinigami, landing softly on her. The mortician flipped their positions, pressing against the wall of the casket to his back and Grell to his scarred chest. Surprised whimpers came from the younger one, yet there was no denying the silver reaper. She clung to him to steady herself, unsure of the attention. No one had ever held her like that. It was warm and caring - loving even.
"Wh-what are-" Soft lips pressed on her own gently, invitingly. She gasped in surprise and the man's tongue slipped into her mouth. It felt so good, after all this time, wishing, dreaming; someone was holding her, wanting her. It was never like this for her. She'd been with others before, but they were never around for when the curtains of the night dawned on them. And then fear struck her, ruining a perfect moment. Grell knew she cared for the Undertaker, at least to a friendly point, but that feeling had been evolving and escalating all night. She knew of he were to dismiss her come morning, her heart wouldn't be able to take it. She had to stop this, before she got in too deep. Gently, yet firmly, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. She almost regretted it, upon hearing the hardly audible whimper at the loss.
"Y-you, you kissed me!" Her face aflame and heated, she could barely stand to look at his eyes. A tender expression graced his angel-like features. "Yes, and I would very much like to do it again, if the lady permits." Just now did he realize how he had acted, never taking into consideration the other's feelings. Undertaker knew she harboured a crush for that prim and stoic reaper, William T. Spears. He knew she liked Sebastian. Yet he overstepped. He thought himself important to her, even when she hadn't shown him he was. 'You old fool!', he thought to himself, masking his discomfort.
"You would?" Her voice a meek whisper, his heart began to throb. "Of course," the answer came automatically. "I have strong feelings for you, Grell. I wouldn't call it love yet; but it just might be." She looked over at him, acid eyes brimmed with tears. "You're not only playing with me? You truly mean that?" She parted his bangs and stared into his gold-and-green ringed orbs. They were honest; they cared; they just might love. Isn't that what she always wanted? To love and to be loved? He was right, this wasn't love, but it could grow into it. He was there for her, he cared. He didn't abuse her, he always referred to her as the lady she was, he was kind and he made her feel happy. She felt free with him. She could laugh and be herself, for she knew he wouldn't judge, no matter what trick she played - and boy did she play many before. "Would I lie to you like that?," he ran his hands through her crimson locks. "No, I'd never be able to do that to such a beautiful rose."
Hesitantly, Grell inched forward, planting a kiss on the mortician's lips. He returned the affection instantly, wrapping his arms around her waist to bring her closer to him. For the first time in centuries, she felt at peace. She was happily lying in the arms of the man she was quickly falling for. As for the Undertaker, he couldn't be better. He smiled against the kiss, pushing his tongue to her lips for entrance. She granted it eagerly, finally feeling what she had wanted to feel; if not love, a deeper affection than what she had ever gotten.
It would seem like an eternity when they parted, feeling giddy and light-headed. "You know, Taker," she grinned up at him. "I may be falling for you." The silver reaper's face lit up. "Good, because I know I want you around me, everyday." With her heart ready to burst from all the positive emotions drowning out the last of her sorrows, she snuggled into his chest, having her face buried against the crook of his neck. He clung to her tightly, afraid to let go.
They slept soundly that night, enjoying the other's company and welcoming their warmth. That day had not been too kind for Grell, nor for Undertaker, but their meeting that night most certainly made up for it. Specially when they realized, they would never be alone again.
The End
I hope you guys liked it. Please leave a review, they are the fuel for authors :)