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undertaker1827 · 4 years

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Hey! I want to request a one shot with undertaker where reader learns about his experiments and it goes kinda like this: *angry pouting reader bursts though the door* "I know you are doing extremely unethical zombie experiments... without me! How dare you not tell me and leave me out? Next time you do something like this, I'm in or we're done"

Aww man I’ve been looking forward to writing this one for sooo long, I really enjoyed it! Also I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a similar reaction

Sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

You had finally worked it out. It had taken you longer than you really cared to admit, if you were being honest, but you absolutely knew you had come to the correct conclusion. You had heard eyewitness accounts from the terrified survivors of the Campania wreck, of course you had, but that had really only been the final nail in the coffin. There were many signs before that which caused you to wonder, to question, but even you hadn’t expected Undertaker to be doing this.

Your lover had confessed some time ago to you that he was a reaper, the memory was still vivid in your minds eye. He let you know by finally moving his grey bangs back from his face and allowing you to see his eyes. It really made a lot of sense when you thought about it. Undertaker had always been possessed of a certain quality that made him seem not quite human. It was more a way of being than anything else and you couldn’t really describe it, but you knew it was there. He told you he quit being a reaper, which had always struck you as a little strange, but then again, so were most things that he said. Now that was beginning to make sense too.

As a mortician, all Undertaker was really meant to do with the ‘clients’ he received was ready them for their final celebration; he made them look presentable for their families, dressed them in the finest clothes and always managed to give them a general look of peace. But you knew he always did more than just this. He enjoyed studying his clients as much as anything else; his research into human anatomy was really quite impressive. That was something he did let you in on, an interest of yours which he encouraged. However, you knew when he disappeared for hours on end that there must be something more to it. He claimed some of his clients were too severely injured for you to study and eh would have his work cut out just to prepare them for the funeral, effectively preventing you from joining him. You didn’t question him on it, but you did make a mental note.

When he disappeared aboard the Campania for the sake of ‘business’ you were almost certain. The final straw was when he arrived back long before the ship was supposed to reach America, before the press had gotten wind of the terrible ‘accident’, before reports came out of the walking dead. You gently quested the reaper on it twice, gaining even less useful information than one could hope for from a politician well versed in the art of secrecy. He tried to agree with the popular belief that the surviving passengers had collectedly gone mad with fear and grief of loss, so the whole event was effectively a hallucination. You didn’t buy it for one second and you were fairly certain he knew that, but still you waited.

Until you could not stand to wait any longer.

You had finished work about twenty minutes earlier and were now winging your way to the mortician’s parlour. You had heard one too many hallucination stories today and by God you were going to get an explanation.

By the time you arrived at Undertaker’s door, you had built up quite a head of steam. You were more than a little angry and positively pouting by the time you flew inside, finding the reaper measuring portions of some very suspect-looking coffee beans in the kitchen, hair pushed to the side and frowning in concentration. He turned around with a grin when he heard you enter, arms wide open for your customary greeting hug and a happy welcome on his lips. He stopped short on seeing your expression, arms still held aloft and one eyebrow now raised as he attempted to assess what was on your mind.

“Yes?” Was all he asked and you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before you launched into your tirade.

“I know you’re doing extremely unethical zombie experiments,” you started, holding up a silencing hand when he went to defend himself, to plead his case, to do something before the words he had been dreading hearing for months passed your lips. You didn’t want to be with him if this was what he did in his spare time, he really was the creepy weirdo everyone thought he was, hundreds of innocent people were dead who wouldn’t have been and many others were now traumatised and it was all because of him-

“Without me!” What? “How dare you leave me out? How could you not tell me?! The next time you do something like this, I’m in or we’re done, right?” When you paused for breath, the chartreuse eyes you met were wide with surprise. Undertaker’s eyebrows were raised about as high as you thought they could go and he had quite clearly forgotten the conical flask he was still holding in one hand. A few moments of silence passed, you short breaths the only thing filling the cold air between you. The reaper scoffed once, twice, then snorted and threw his head back in the loudest, full bodied laughing fit you had ever seen him have.

The conical flask was abruptly slammed down on the counter and the mortician quite literally collapsed to the floor, hand gripping a cupboard handle for support and rendered utterly incapable by the one reaction he hadn’t even bothered to consider you having.

“You,” he wheezed, eyes squeezed shut and desperately fighting to produce a coherent sentence, “you really--" He broke off into another fit of hysterics, letting go of the cupboard in favour of throwing himself down onto his back, chest heaving as he tried to get himself back under control. Eventually, he opened one eye to find you staring down at him, a challenge in your gaze despite how hard you had to work not to start laughing along with him - it was incredibly infectious.

“You really want in?” He managed at last, blowing a few strands of hair back from his eyes. “I’ve caused the death of hundreds and the madness of hundreds more yet you threaten to leave me if I don’t let you help me the next time?” At your defiant nod, he offered another grin and leaned back against the cupboard doors, lifting an arm in invitation for you to join him on the floor. You did so, immediately finding yourself pulled into his side with his hand resting on your waist. You laid your head on his shoulder and looked up into his eyes, waiting for his response. The reaper shook his head lightly before directing his gaze back down to you.

“Humans are truly fascinating creatures,” he murmured, “and you, my love, are no exception. Yes, the next time I conduct my experiments, I will let you help.” You allowed your lips to curl into a smirk.

“And all the times after that?” The smirk he gave you in return was increased tenfold.

“And all the times after that,” Undertaker confirmed, leaning down to kiss you in what you assumed was the remainder of his amusement, when in truth, it was relief spurring him on above all else.

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