Chapter Text
As a Grim Reaper, it’s incredibly rare to find something that confuses you.
Yes, you're just a junior Reaper, but as part of the Collections Department, your job puts you in control of everything, of finding souls and capturing them, of wielding a death scythe with immaculate technique, of categorizing and collecting cinematic records. Everything has an order, a place in your mind, and that’s just the way you like it.
So why the hell has one Grelle Sutcliff, of all things, thrown this order out the window and drenched your life in an unexplainable confusion?
“Y/N. Hey, Earth to Y/N.” You’re vaguely aware that someone’s trying to attract your attention, but you’re too busy watching a figure in the distance, a very familiar red-cloaked figure who is currently flirting (or at least, attempting to flirt) with the ever-stoic William T. Spears. “Geez, Y/N, are you even listening to me?”
“Hm?” You shake your head, slowly dragging yourself out of your daze, and turn to face Ronald Knox who sits beside you, resting his chin in his hand. “Oh, sorry, Ronald. Did you need something?”
“Yeah, actually.” Ronald raises an eyebrow, a lopsided smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “I need to know why you keep staring at my senior over there like she’s the bloody sun.”
“What?” You nearly fall out of your chair, shaking your head vehemently. “I have no idea what you’re-”
“Oh, c'mon. Half the department knows you’ve got it bad for Sutcliffe.” Ronald’s smile widens. He knows he’s got you. “You’re not exactly subtle about it.”
“I- That doesn’t- How could-” You fumble through a few excuses before deciding it’s not worth it, and you sigh heavily, putting your head in your hands. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly.” Ronald cackles at his own pun and you now understand why no senior Reaper ever wants to take him along on their missions.
“She doesn’t- She doesn’t know, does she?” You ask tentatively, and Ronald laughs.
“Of course not. Miss Sutcliff may be very in tune with her own feelings, but when it comes to those of others, she’s completely oblivious.” Ronald reaches out his hand and gives you an awkward pat on the shoulder that comes across as more embarrassing than encouraging. “Is this the part where I give you a pep talk?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” From across the room, you watch helplessly as Spears says something to Grelle that sends her careening across the room from apparent joy, a pretty red flush on her cheeks. Careening across the room directly towards you. “Holy shit.”
“Dear Lord.” Ronald slides his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose, giving you a nervous grin. “Don’t panic, Y/N. Whatever you do, do. Not. Panic.”
“I think it’s a little too late for that,” you hiss through gritted teeth as Grelle reaches your table, and you jump as the Reaper slams her gloved hands down on the wood hard enough to nearly break right through it.
“Well, well, what have we here? Having a little chit-chat without me?” Grinning broadly, Grelle snatches a chair out from under a nearby Reaper and slides it screechingly in front of you, sitting backward so she can rest her chin on the back and stretch her long legs out in front of it. You’re very acutely aware of the fact that the toe of one of her slender boots is touching your ankle. “It’s very rude to exclude a fellow lady out of girl-talk, Y/N.”
You’re not entirely sure why the sound of your name on her lips makes your heartbeat speed up to double its previous pace.
“Ah, well, you know, we were just talking about… the weather.” Ronald nods solemnly, leaning into his pathetic lie with cringe-inducing dedication. “Such a nice day outside, wouldn’t you say?”
“Huh?” Grelle looks around the room for a minute, obviously bewildered. “We’re inside, Ronald darling. Have you hit your head on the doorframe again?”
“No head injuries here. Only those of the heart variety.” Ronald winks dramatically at you, and at that moment you want nothing more than to whack him in the head with your Death Scythe.
“Ooh, you’re joking!” Grelle scoots her chair forward and claps her hands excitedly, staring directly at you. “Well, don’t keep a lady guessing, Y/N! Love is such an exciting affair. You know, it’s about time you finally found yourself a suitor as pretty as you are, gorgeous.”
Did she just… call you gorgeous? Alarm bells are screeching in your head, and you’re pretty sure that you might pass out if this goes on for much longer. Say something, Y/N. You’ve got to say something!
“Well, I… I’m sorry to say that I have no idea what Ronald’s talking about,” you say weakly, practically melting under the heat of Grelle’s intensely focused gaze. “I am still very much lacking in the love department.” Nice. You just made yourself sound real desirable.
“Nonsense! I don’t believe it for a second.” Grelle’s sharp smile flashes in the lantern light, teeth glinting a pearly white, and you have to dig your nails into your palm to keep yourself from imagining kissing those perfect lips. Pull yourself together, Y/N! “Ronald, tell your senior the truth, now. Has our darling Y/N finally found a worthy object of her affection?”
“Well…” Ronald looks between you and Grelle fitfully, obviously torn between taking the side of his close friend, you, and his incredibly-intimidating-when-she-wants-to-be superior, Grelle. “I don’t know if worthy is the right word for it.”
“Oh my, have you fallen for a bad boy, Y/N? How very cinematic of you.” Grelle looks enthralled, her green eyes piercing your own, and you blush behind your glasses at the sharp eye contact.
“Not exactly. It doesn’t matter, really, it’s just a silly crush.” This is a nightmare. In a weak attempt to change the subject, you clear your throat awkwardly. “Anyway, you- you look nice today, Grelle. Did you repaint your nails?” Ronald doesn't even try to hide his laughter.
Grelle looks slightly hurt at the fact that you don’t trust her enough to share your secret crush, but the compliment has worked its magic, and she lights up immediately. “You are right as always, darling. Take a look!” She whips off her remaining glove and shoves a slender hand in your face, revealing long red nails that look like they’ve been dipped in a pool of blood. “What do you think? Red is my favorite-”
“Yes, yes. It’s your favorite color. We’re well aware.” Ronald gestures blankly to Grelle’s all-red ensemble, and Grelle bares her teeth at him.
“How dare you speak to your superior in such a way! I will have you know that there are few Reapers who look as breathtaking in red as I do.” Grelle bites one of the crimson nails somewhat seductively, turning her gaze back onto you.
“I really do think you should consider trying it out, though, Y/N. A scarlet lip would do really wonders on a face like yours. Not that you need any help in the beauty department, of course.” With a wink- yes, she winks at you and you nearly faint -Grelle stands up from the table, throwing her chair back onto the floor behind her with a dramatic crash.
“Well, goodbye for now, darlings. A lady’s work is never done, and Will will absolutely have my head if I don’t finish this paperwork.” Grelle turns with a flourish of her long red hair and stalks off across the room, muttering something like “Not that I wouldn’t mind a bit of a tussle with him, of course” under her breath.
You sit there and watch Grelle walk all the way across the room until her brilliant red coat disappears from sight, and the second she’s out of your line of vision, you collapse in a heap on the tabletop.
Beside you, Ronald laughs his head off, attracting the attention of several other dubious Reapers, and you want to sink into a hole in the ground. You need to get over this stupid, pointless crush.
It wasn't always like this. You weren't always a babbling fool in the face of the Lady in Red. In fact, you had viewed her as rather an annoyance during your Reaper training, and it wasn't until right after you passed your exam that you realized there was so much more to Grelle Sutcliff than the lovesick persona she makes sure to shove in everyone's face.
And now, look at you. A junior Reaper, pining over the most famous Grim Reaper in your department. Even worse, she's currently on probation after a long suspension period for breaking nearly half the Reaper code, and is now famous for all the wrong reasons.
And you're still nothing. A no one. You haven't even been out in the field for months, and barely passed your Reaper exam in the first place. What could the legendary Sutcliff ever want with a novice like you?
You sigh, putting your head in your hands and wishing that you could see something other than crimson red every time you shut your eyes.
“You’re joking.”
You were understandably nervous after first receiving the message that Supervisor Spears wanted to see you in his office, but now, you are positively horrified.
“I can assure you, Y/N, I am quite serious.” Spears taps his pencil against his desk pointedly, obviously little more than bored with your shock. “You have shown great promise as a junior Reaper and it’s clear that you are capable of much more than simply polishing Death Scythes for hours on end. I’m sure this is not the promotion you are hoping for, but I believe that assigning you to work under Grelle Sutcliff is a step up from your current position.”
“No, it’s… that’s not the problem, sir. I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunity.” You shift uncomfortably, unsure of how to phrase this.
“I understand Sutcliff is not the ideal supervisor. She may be a complete idiot, but her skill with a Death Scythe is undeniable, and with a level-headed individual such as yourself at her right hand, I do hope you will be able to reign in her lunacy.” Spears folds his fingers together and looks up at you, raising an eyebrow under his spectacles. “Unless, of course, you’d rather stay where you are.”
“No, no, that’s fine,” you blurt out. You’ve wanted to move up in the Collections department ranks for months now, but at the right hand of Grelle? You’re going to act like a complete idiot and ruin everything. How can you keep yourself together around someone so breathtakingly chaotic? “I- Thank you, sir. I will gladly accept the position.”
“Good.” Spears sighs, sitting up a bit straighter and sliding a file across the table towards you. “Your first job will be this afternoon. Sutcliff will fill you in on the details of-”
All of a sudden, the door to Spears’ office slams open, and it waltzes Grelle in a scarlet flash, one gloved hand tangled carelessly in her red hair. How Spears has not fallen for her yet, you have no idea.
“Oh, Will, you silly boy, how could you not tell me sooner that I was getting such a pretty new assistant!” Grelle croons, and before you can register what’s happening, she has sauntered over to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “It’s about time, too, I was getting so sick of listening to that Ronald Knox babble on about his blasted lawnmower. I’m not exactly a gardening type of girl.”
“Oh, good. You’re here.” Spears gives Grelle a skeptical look. “I do hope you will have the decency to not terrorize Y/N during this mission. She’s one of the only Reapers who hasn’t filed a complaint about you yet, and I’d love to keep it that way, seeing as it’s growing increasingly difficult to assign you a partner after your little incident.” Spears taps a piece of paper on his desk sharply, and you can just make out a few words buried in its extensive text: Jack the Ripper.
“William, you wound me.” Grelle sticks out her lower lip in a pout, and suddenly she’s cupping your chin in her hand, tilting your gaze up to meet her own and squeezing your cheeks slightly. “I have never terrorized anyone in my life, especially not our precious Y/N. Isn’t that right, darling?”
Precious. Darling. The words ring through your head and tighten your heart in an iron-clad grip, and though you know that’s just how Grelle talks to everyone, they send little shivers across your skin that branch out from where her gloved fingers touch your face.
“R-right.” You don’t know what else to say, and Spears sighs again, giving you a look that obviously means he’s finished dealing with the two of you.
“Well, good luck, both of you. I expect a full report by the end of the day, Sutcliff. And if you set even one foot out of line, know that there will be great consequences.” He shoots Grelle a pointed look, who merely waves a hand dismissively.
“Don’t worry, Will! I always abide by the Reaper code.” Grelle releases your face and steers you out of the office door, sweeping it closed with a flourish. The second it shuts behind you, she spins around to face you with a jagged grin, and your heart skips a beat.
“Look at this, darling. Just the two of us, all alone on our very own mission. I’m such a lucky girl.” She raises an eyebrow suggestively and you just about pass out. “Well, are you excited? Missions with me are fun, you see, and I’ve got a feeling you’re not an awful bore like that chump Ronald.”
“I certainly hope I’m not,” you say with a weak smile, and Grelle cackles, the sound a delicious mix of evil and joyful all at the same time. “It’s an honor to work under you, really. I hope I can be of service.”
“So serious. And quite the flatterer.” Grelle fans herself with a glove, her smile widening. “I'm liking you more by the minute, Y/N.”
Shit. You’re in trouble. If she keeps up like this, you’re not sure your poor heart is going to survive the mission.
The second your feet touch down in the human world, you’re instantly greeted by the familiar rush of adrenaline that flows through you every time you start a new mission, a rush you haven't felt in a very long time. The only difference is that now, it's coupled with the little tingles shooting through your bloodstream that come with standing so close to Grelle Sutcliff.
The Reaper in question is leaning against a nearby building, her incredible Death Scythe resting languidly at her side. She waves you over and you immediately follow her direction, a bit of your nerves fading away as you stare at the magnificent weapon. You adore your own Death Scythe, a jet-black axe tipped with red accents, but Grell's legendary chainsaw is something else.
“This is amazing, Ms. Sutcliff. I’ve heard about your Scythe, but never had the pleasure of seeing it in person.” You step forward, your fingers curling in and out of fists as you try to keep yourself from running a hand down the metal surface. “It’s beautiful.”
“Oh please, darling, call me Grelle. Ms. Sutcliff is just so droll, don’t you think?” She stares at you hungrily as you examine the chainsaw, like some kind of predator ready to pounce. It both unnerves and excites you. “Sweet of you to say, love. This is my pride and joy, after all.”
She tilts the Death Scythe towards you, inviting you to take a closer look, and you gently press a fingertip to the cool metal. It sends something like an electric shock through your veins, to be so close to a weapon of such great destruction, and it’s clear Grelle senses it.
“How did you settle on a chainsaw?” You swallow hard and force yourself to meet Grelle’s smirking gaze, summoning any and all courage you possess. If you’re going to get through this mission, you need to be cool. Subtle. No more shaking and wilting beneath the Reaper’s discerning eye. “A bit unconventional, isn’t it?”
“Ah, but that’s the charm of it.” Grelle spins the weapon around in her grip, watching as the metal catches the evening light and positively sparkles. “I wanted something bold, you see, something that would be mine and only mine. The kind of weapon that announces your presence before you ever have to do it yourself.”
“So you like a little attention, then?” you say teasingly, surprising even yourself at your boldness, and Grelle raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, I like a lot more than a little.”
You’re fairly certain your heartbeat is audible to the whole city as Grelle leans closer to you, and before you know it your back is to the wall, pressing against the cement as Grelle puts a hand right next to your head, pinning you back.
“You know, it’s rather funny that we’ve never been paired together on a mission, Y/N. I think I might have to have a little chat with my dear William for keeping us apart for so long,” Grelle drawls, looking deep into your eyes. “Although, I suppose it might have been a smart move on his part. If you keep being so charming, we might never get this mission done.”
So Grelle likes a little boldness, then? Well, if you’re ever going to win her over, it looks like you’re going to have to step out of your comfort zone.
“I-” Deep breath. No stuttering. “Oh, I’m not too worried about that. Everyone knows you’re the best wielder of a Death Scythe in the department. Is it true you got a triple A on your practical exam?"
“Oh my!” Grelle positively beams at the compliment, and releases her dominating stance to twirl in circles across the alleyway. “You’re such a flirt, darling, but your information is good. What can I say, I'm simply one hell of a fighter~!" Grell winks at you, and you feel like that line is supposed to mean something, but before you can ponder it further she's grabbing your hand and taking off down the cobblestones. "Come on, we’d best start looking for our target or my heart might just explode!”
The target in question turns out to be one Abraham Wilcox, scheduled to die at 6 pm this very evening. You and Grelle watch the man for hours on end, from rooftops, from city streets, from park benches, and all of it feels somehow normal, somehow right.
As the two of you walk, you talk: about Death Scythes, combat styles, spectacles, fashion, favorite foods, and everything in between. With every hour that goes by, your nerves begin to calm, until talking to Grelle no longer feels like such an unclimbable mountain.
“Well, we’ve ten minutes to go, darling. Funny how much time flies when you’re having fun!” Grelle holds the To-Die List out in front of her like a sacred text, and you stick close to her side, dodging pedestrians left and right. The two of you receive more than a few confused looks, given Grelle’s extravagant style and the massive weapons that hang at your sides.
“How’s this for attention?” you ask, gesturing to the crowd of people, and Grelle laughs, throwing her head back in a way that’s effortlessly gorgeous. Grelle is beautiful, and she knows it.
“They’re not only staring at me, you know.” Grelle looks over her shoulder to wink at you, and you blush against your will, your cheeks flushing a deep red. Suddenly, Grelle stops in her tracks, turning to you. “Oh, my, you simply must stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” you ask tentatively. Have you upset her, somehow?
“Blushing like that. It gets me so, so… excited.” Grelle’s hungry gaze is back, and you wish she would just hurry up and devour you whole.
“Does it?” you ask innocently, and suddenly, a rush of courage flows through you. Reaching up slowly, you gently twirl a strand of Grelle’s crimson hair around your finger, placing your other hand on her shoulder. You’re shorter than her, but if you stand on your tiptoes you’re just able to be eye level with her chin. “I would hate to distract you when we’re here on business.”
“Oh, Y/N.” Grelle’s gaze glazes over, her eyelashes fluttering like crazy as she lowers her gaze to meet your own. “You know exactly how to wind a girl up, don’t you?”
For a moment, time stops, and it feels like she's going to kiss you.
Of course, it's then that a group of young men sprint past you, jostling you hard enough to make you lose your footing, and before you can reach out a hand to stop yourself, you've toppled in a rather undignified heap on the cement, Grelle staring surprisedly down at you. Perfect.
"Oh my, would you look at that?" Grelle extends a slender hand and grins, and her jagged teeth catch the orange light of the sunset, bathing her in an ironically angelic glow. "Seems you've fallen for me, darling."
It's a cheesy line, but it does the trick, and you take Grelle's hand in a dreamlike state, rising to your feet. You wish this could be forever, this mission, this sunset, this feeling of her hand on yours, this- Wait.
"The mission!" you blurt out, and in a frantic state, you slide a sleeve back to check your watch, ignoring Grelle's raised eyebrow and surprised expression at your declaration. "Damn it, Grelle, we've only got a minute before he dies, and we're over a mile away!"
"Why so frantic? Worrying so much isn't good for your skin, you know. Gives you wrinkles." Grelle points dramatically at the corners of her eyes, and you shake your head vehemently.
"But Spears- He said we had to do this right. You can't be suspended again, Grelle, we need to-"
All of a sudden, the world tilts underneath you, and before you can register what's happening, you're in the air, wind brushing past your cheek as you soar, weightless, through the sky, above the buildings... Above the buildings?
"I'm so used to being the damsel in distress, Y/N, but for you, I suppose playing the knight in shining armor wouldn't hurt." Grelle's voice is hushed and deep in your ear, and you realize that you're lying bridal-style in her arms as she leaps from building to building, her inhuman gait so ethereal you hold your breath in shock. This is something straight out of a dream, straight out of a fairytale, and though you know Grelle flirts with everyone, you can't help but feel like you're special. Like she thinks you're special. "You don't need to worry for me, darling. I'm quite a fast runner."
Without even realizing it, you curl your fingers around the collar of Grell's coat, doing your best to hold on as tightly as possible to keep from falling as city streets pass by in a flash beneath you.
Darling. Darling, darling, darling. You could hear that word forever and never grow tired of it. Hell, you could look at her forever and never grow tired of it.
When Grelle finally touches down on a street corner and sets you on your feet, your head is spinning, full of dizziness and giddiness and fear all curled up into one indistinguishable emotion. You're about to turn to her, to bite your lip and tell her how perfect she is, when you realize she's not looking at you at all. Something behind you has caught her attention, and so you turn, ready to see some kind of monster or murderer or any type of threat at all, but instead there stands... a little boy?
You rub your eyes. This can't be right, but somehow it is, and you watch as Grell pushes past you towards the child, sweeping a wave of scarlet hair over her shoulder as she does so. Suddenly, a figure seems to materialize behind the boy, a figure that seems like he's made from the very shadows that surround him. Evening has fallen, you realize, and the early dark of night makes this man seem all the more sinister.
A butler, with hair as dark as ink, stands at the boy's side, clad in a clean-pressed suit and deathly white gloves.
"Could it be? Could it really be?" Grell practically leaps over to the two figures, and puts a hand to her forehead, feigning a dramatic faint. "Skies above, it is. Oh Bassy, darling, you simply must warn me before you drop in so suddenly. You know how excited I get when you're near~!"
Darling. Darling, darling, darling. Funny how a word can mean such different things to such different people. You know you shouldn't be crushed by this (you're a Grim Reaper, for God's sake) but somehow you are, and all you can do is watch speechlessly as the butler regards Grell like she's something he found on the bottom of his shoe.
Oh my, would you look at that? Seems you've fallen for me, darling.
You have fallen. Fallen hard. And so, it seems, has Grell, who really did dramatically faint and was not, in fact, caught by the butler of her affections. Instead, she lies at his feet in a dignified sort of heap, grinning broader than you've ever seen her before.
And so, it would seem, begins a battle. A battle for the heart of one Grell Sutcliff, against an opponent who doesn't seem all that interested in the prize.
Even so, this is a battle you don't intend on losing.