Ghost in the Machine (Undertaker x Female Reader)

Chapter Nineteen.

!NSFWish
!ig I'm writing a romance novel?

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Finally, it was to be tomorrow.

The Undertaker had selected the day—based on some unsavory information from his "network", he claimed—and we knew it was only a matter of hours before I'd have to leave him for the Reaper Realm, and whatever awaited me there.

"You'll remember what we've planned no matter what the circumstances, I'm sure," he murmured from behind me. "Strong, brave girl that you are."

I blushed, adding to the warmth of my cheeks kindled by the glow of the stove. I sat in his lap by the hearth, a pale lavender shawl over my sleeping gown, as he gently ran a comb through my hair, a ritual once born of compassion, but which now felt to me like something far more complex for both of us. "You're making me more nervous than I am already," I replied, pressing my palms to my face.

"It's all right to be scared...I think they'd suspect you if you weren't, besides." He had finished weaving my hair into a loose braid and tied it off with a cream satin ribbon. Silence settled over us as he paused, sighing before extending his pale arms around my shoulders to hug me back against his chest. I stroked my fingertips over his white shirt cuffs and the rosy-white scars that trailed over his skin. I had memorized their paths along his forearms by now. I touched at the tiny one circling his pinky finger with a special fondness, biting my lip.

I knew that he held some affection for me—would he kiss me or touch me if he didn't?—but I wasn't sure how that translated into words, a status, a definition of any sort, at least in his terms. I was not versed in the rites of reaper courtship, let alone the innermost workings of his heart. In life, there would be letters, polite exchange with my father if there were any interest, but now...was I a curiosity to him? A plaything? A security blanket, perhaps, or something more? He'd been adamant about me staying close to him, but I had known after he told me of my "value" as a reaper that he'd wanted to be sure I wouldn't be stolen away by his kind.

Our kind. Indeed, on the other hand, I seemed to be company he sorely needed. We shared an origin, in a way, and shared the experience of the changes we'd been through while transcending death. In all the nights I had been here, I had only had to ask that we share a bed on the first night. Despite nothing really happening beyond sleep and his penchant for a good cuddle (or the occasional kiss that felt like something of an experiment using my own heart...), I still couldn't be sure of what he felt. I had thought long and hard on this, becoming increasingly desperate as the time that we'd be separated drew nearer, and I felt it fighting its way out when I knew I still had time to obtain an answer.

"I'm scared, but yes..." I heard myself begin to babble. "The worst part, though...it's silly to think about, with me here to work as a healer and so on...that is..." I ducked my head, whispering my secrets to the baby scar. "...I don't want to be apart from you." I stiffened a bit, the gravity of what I was saying to him catching up with me.

Wait, I caught myself thinking.

I know I'm curious about what he's thinking, but...

...why do I want to know so badly?

I felt his lungs misstep slightly in their rhythm, drawing in a sharp breath against my back. They returned to their normal pattern, then, but I felt him squeeze his arms a bit more snugly around my shoulders before releasing me.

"Can you turn this way, pretty? I want to see your face."

My stomach fluttered, and I complied, carefully shifting myself to sit sideways in the bowl of his crossed legs. The light of the hearth cast a soft, orange glow over his pale face and shone in his hair. In contrast to the softness, his expression looked quite serious. I hesitantly placed my palm on his chest, waiting expectantly for a reaction, and completely terrified of the moment when he'd present me with one.