#somebody let this beautiful sassy bastard be happy

[nighttimelights-prompted]

First off: your writing is legit awesome. Second, whenever you feel like it, maybe something about UF Grillby reacting to his s/o, one night after a rough day at the bar, just showering him in gentle, genuine affection? Compliments, cuddling, sweet "i love yous" and such. Thanks for reading my silly prompt, again yojr writing is awesome! Purple Flame Man needs more love! XD

(aw thank you so, so much sweet anon! i 100% agree with you on needing more love for UF Grillby - and i am always into writing the firebae, so i’m quite delighted to take another swing at him… admittedly, perhaps too delighted. so here we go, some fluff with the purple flame man to hopefully tide us all over~)

You had felt the quiet roiling fury and frustration of Grillby’s soul even from your apartment miles away from his bar. Your hands were donning your coat before you had a second thought - it had been a long time since Grillby had been like this, and ego be damned - you were going to be there for him if…

… You paused. No, no, you had a better idea, upon that second thought… one you think would be much better for him in the long run. He didn’t need to get the urge to dust a monster for threatening you should you end up snapping back at their rude demeanor… again.

So a few hours later, at a time so late in the night that it was dangerously close to better being deemed the early hours of the morning, you heard Grillby’s door click open and slam shut. The rush of heat was immediate - but you had planned for that, and were dressed in far lighter clothes than the outside weather would call for. You had also planned for the sudden quiet from him, cut off mid-roaring crackle, as he registered another presence in his apartment, and before he could gleam further information-

“Hey there, Grill,” you greeted, stepping immediately into view, your voice soft and your expression knowing. He sighed at the sight of you, and you felt a brush of his energy by your soul as he recognized your presence the moment before he even caught sight of you.

“… Hello, my dear. What are you doing here?” He said, striding over to you. The tension in his shoulders was obvious, even as his anger tempered marginally at greeting you. His arm circled your waist and he leaned down, immediately claiming your lips in a kiss, his burning temperature just shy of pain, causing you to sigh into him and press into his hold a little more firmly despite yourself.

(continued below the cut… // mobile link)

His chuckle buzzed against your lips, doing terribly wonderful things to your core even as he pulled away, his one arm still around your waist, the other lifting so his hand could lift to your chin.

“… Not that I mind, of course,” he continued, his voice decidedly lower.

You laughed - a little breathlessly - and shook your head. “Well, being greeted like that is never a deterrent,” you said, a mischievous tilt to your expression. You pressed a hand to his chest then, willing yourself to push back the desire a little to better attend to your original intentions. “But no, I wanted… to do a little something for you,” you said, your tone softer once again, a smile on your face.

Grillby’s expression shifted, a flaming violet brow quirking upward as he considered you… then followed your gaze as you looked back towards his impeccably crafted stone table. You had laid out drinks, including a particular blend of whiskey you knew he was fond of, accompanied by a favorite meal of his that he himself had taught you how to cook.

“… Well, I know I’m certainly not in any sort of line with you in terms of cooking… but I thought with how I felt your day seemed to go-”

“It’s perfect.”

Grillby’s words cut you off as you looked back up to him, your cheeks flushing. He was looking back down at you - there was no smile on his face, but there was something painfully, beautifully intense in the white-hot glow of his eyes as he held you closer yet.

“… Come on, before it gets cold,” you replied softly, catching his hand at your chin to press a small kiss to it.

You ate in relative silence, a comfortable peace coming over you both as you chose a soft, instrumental playlist to let play in the background. He set down his silverware as he finished and leaned back in his chair, his legs stretching out, brushing against yours as he lifted his whiskey to his mouth. His eyes leveled on you again, and you leaned back and lifted your drink in turn as you returned his gaze.

“If you’d like to talk about it, I’m here for you,” you offered as he took a sip. It was an offer you had made before, and meant just as genuinely then.

He continued looking at you, then finally sighed and ran a hand through the flames flaring over his head. He scowled as he focused on his whiskey.

“My dear, it is nothing I wish for you to be concerned over. Simply… ongoing frustration with a certain status of things.”

You leaned forward, your hands near his. “That’s a terrible argument, and you know it. My concern is for you, so that would only naturally extend. I’m never burdened by knowing what matters to you.”

“For a human, you’re incredibly quick on your feet.”

“I’ll take that as the well-meant compliment it was for no doubt the dozenth time. And my statement still stands.”

His gaze shifted to you, catching the soft grin on your face. He huffed, the sound half a laugh, half something of disgust at whatever was running through his mind.

“Very well, then.”

Without ceremony, he stood and in the same motion swept you out of your chair and into his arms. You, admittedly, squeaked, which led to a devilish twist in his otherwise stoic expression. Your arms had looped around his neck, so you pulled yourself just a little closer, leading to a thrill of warmth near your soul as his responded to your actions. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his neck.

He hummed, a low rumbling sound that you could feel throughout his body. Now in his bedroom, you felt him shift to remove his shoes without letting you go. He sat down in his enormous bed then, the pristine comforter barely budging as he did so - you knew from experience it was weighted, lined with a special material that both allowed air through while retaining heat. Pillows shifted behind you both as he leaned back, releasing you just enough to where you could lay slightly over him, slightly alongside him.

One arm held you close, the other released you in favor of his hand roaming to your hair, twisting it in his hands, lending a particularly soft curl to the locks he twirled absently around his fingers.

“… The human official returned today, saying they were going to reject my filing for their absurd liquor-brewing laws. Apparently, they cannot trust the quality or purity of something ‘hand-brewed by a monster’,” he sneered. You felt the anger rising in him again, his heat flaring just slightly with it.

“We’ll appeal it,” you said softly. You knew he wasn’t a fan of vague sympathetic apologies. Instead your head rested near his shoulder, your hand smoothing out gently over his chest, your thumb brushing in a gentle, reassuring motion. “I’ll appeal it. I may have a connection that could help us - you,” you said, correcting yourself as casually as you could, hoping the heat of your cheeks would be hidden amongst the ambient heat of him.

Grillby was quiet for a moment, his hand suddenly still. “… us,” he said, repeating your word back at you.

You didn’t say anything.

“… us,” he repeated. His hand tilted your chin upwards, gently forcing you to look at him. His gaze captured yours, and you felt your soul tighten in your chest at the bright, unmistakeable burning of his flames. His voice was quiet, a rough, low, serious crackle that pierced straight through you. “My dear. Do you truly…?”

You weren’t sure you were breathing properly, but you found your voice. “I love you,” you replied. “I know that. You know that. My soul knows that…”

It throbbed happily in your chest at your words, and you felt Grillby’s energy brush against you again.

You continued, “… and, well, I think your soul knows that, Grill. I don’t - nothing has to change. But I love you. I love your sharp mind, your cunning - the way you’re able to analyze and measure every situation to your best benefit so quickly, the deft slip of your hands as you mix drinks or cook, the way you stride through a room and command everyone’s attention should you wish it - the way that beneath the commanding and sharp exterior, you’ve got an indescribable and unwavering passion for your craft and for those you care about… And… just - no matter what this shitty world throws at you, I’ll be by your side, as long as you’ll have me.”

Your hand had drifted to his jaw as you spoke. You held him as he held you, a long, quiet moment stretching between you both as something swelled and burned and sung so very, very sweetly between your souls.

At last, he pulled you closer yet, his forehead tipping to brush against yours.

“… You mean that, I can feel it…” he murmured. It wasn’t quite disbelief in his voice, but something so very close to it, so close that it made your hand smooth downwards towards his neck, unable to find words, but grounding him with your caress as surely as he was grounding you in the storm of swelling emotions twisting and slipping between your souls.

“Every word and more,” you said.

He closed the last breath of distance between you, capturing your lips once more in a kiss. This one was even more insistent than the last, a passion and need behind his movements that had you letting out a soft gasp as you returned the kiss, your hand gripping at the strong line of his neck as his hands dragged red-hot along your skin, a thrilling heat that only had you wanting more.

“Grillby,” you gasped as you broke away just for a moment.

“I want to claim you,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering, intense, absolute. “You, dearheart… I love you. I love you, so much that my soul can barely stand your absence, so much that despite every inch of what has occurred in my lifespan warning me of the dangers of attachment - I would rather take on the world than have you parted from me,” he swore.

Your breath was fully stolen from you as he kissed you once more, pulling back only a breath’s space to speak once more.

“My soul is dark, my dear, something I know you’re aware of by now. It burns fiercely, but many a charred mark stand on its surface for what I’ve done. And still… if you’d have it, my damned soul is yours, as surely as yours would be mine.”

You lost your battle with the wetness pooling at the corners of your eyes. Despite it, your voice was firm and lined with the pulsing joy emanating from your very soul as you dragged him in for another kiss, your words ghosting over his mouth.

“Grillby, you brilliant, handsome fool, I’d want nothing more.”

[latenightscribbles13]

Who knew (pt. 3)

We've come pretty far since the early days of December when I could barely stand being in the room with him. The month practically flew by, while I was getting accustomed to the new job and new people around me. I became less grumpy, and started making friends. I tried to ignore the feeling that I was throwing my whole education away by not staying in the film business. But I had to make do with what was left. And the movie deal was not officially off the table, we were on a sort of a stand-by. So I decided to hold out for a while, see where the road would take me.

On Christmas Eve, I volunteered to work the night shift. Christmas wasn’t as celebrated over here as it was in my home country, but I still thought it would be too lonely to spend it alone. So I took on all the work that I could, while still trying to bring the Christmas spirit into the studio with some decorations and Christmas music.

‘Hey, who’s gonna do the Christmas Wish special?’ I asked the man who a couple of weeks ago tried to take the delivery food that wasn’t really his. He turned out to be a pretty nice guy, and we became closer.

‘Wait and see,’ he said, a sly smile playing on his lips. I didn’t have a good feeling about this.

A minute later, the door opened. ‘Heeeey, guys, merry Christmas.’ It was him. Johnny. Of course it was. Who else. He was the personification of Christmas spirit, dressed in ugly reindeer sweater, wearing a Santa’s hat, humming the typical Christmas carols. ‘Are you ready for the best Christmas Eve special of your lives?’

God, he was cheerful. Must be nice to have all your friends and family waiting for you when you get home. ‘Yeah, yeah, let’s just do it,’ I said, trying to show my annoyance, when in reality, his mood was quite contagious. And the wine certainly helped at that.

When the work was done, late into the night, we all sat at the table, eating and drinking. Then, one by one, they all started going home. ‘You’re staying?’ asked the fried chicken stealer. I nodded, putting on a happy face. ‘Yep, this wine isn’t gonna finish itself.’ I raised my glass, wished him a merry Christmas, and watched him as he walked out. I was all alone. I downed the wine, and took the bottle to pour myself another glass, but it was empty. ‘Oh, c’mon, not you, too,’ I whined, already tipsy.

‘I can help you with that.’ I winced at that line, not realizing there was someone else in the room. It was my nemesis.

‘Why are you still here?’ I asked, very impolitely, but still managing to stretch out my arm so he could pour me more wine. I even had to motion him to pour some more. Stingy bastard.

‘I think that will be enough for now,’ he said firmly, putting the bottle at the other end of the table where I couldn’t reach it. Damn it, he must know how lazy I am. He then sat down, observing me.

‘What?’ I barked, uneasy under his careful scanning.

‘Why do you hate me so much?’

The question made me choke on my wine, so it took me a minute or two to pull myself together. It also gave me time to figure out the right answer. I felt slightly embarrassed. I didn’t know I came off that strong. Partly, it was my personality to be rough around the edges, partly, it was the insecurities gnawing at my pride. ‘I-I don’t hate you.’ Great, stuttering is the way to go. Bravo. I cleared my throat, continuing. ‘It’s just that um … I don’t know. I’m sorry.’ My eyes were everywhere but on him. I somehow couldn’t even look at him. I was sure he was going to grill me some more, enjoying my discomfort. Surprisingly, he smiled and nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ He sort of reminded me of a puppy. I didn’t notice it before.

From that moment on, we started to grow closer. We talked practically all night long, until the sunrise reminded us we should probably head home. He told me most of his friends went home, and he was the only one left at the dorm. His parents lived too far away to visit them. He was as lost as me, yet he was handling it much better. He was kind, smart, sassy, and entertaining as hell. He was even an aspiring signer, rapper, and dancer, and I had no idea. There was so much I never bothered to find out on my own before. And I could finally tell the difference between sincere questions and mockery. Apparently, mocking me was never his intention.

‘You’re too pretty to be mocked,’ he said, winking.

‘See?! It’s all those winks and smiles and the tone of your voice. Shady lines, mate, very shady.’

He sighed, mumbling something under his breath.

‘What’s that now?’

He replied by shaking his hand, and then changed the subject. When we went home later on, he even rode in taxi with me to make sure I got to my apartment safely, and then walked from there. For the first time, the grey block of flats felt a little bit more like home.

**

One of his passions is photography. I actually realized that on my own. Whenever we got together, he had a different camera with him. And he was always shoving it in my face, knowing damn well I hated taking photos. But he loves teasing me, so my protests were always in vain. He also took a lot of pictures of passers-by and seemingly insignificant moments of everyday life.

‘One day we will realize those moments were important,’ he announced solemnly.

I rolled my eyes at the cheesiness. ‘What cereal box did you get this one from?’

Nonetheless, his cheesy line proved to be very accurate in the future, when we celebrated my birthday at his friend’s café. It was just the two of us, as he asked his friend to let us in after closing time, so we could have some peace and quiet. Apparently, many people already knew about him and upcoming his group, so he didn’t want to draw much attention to himself. I preferred it like that, anyway. Just the two of us, some music and cake and wine. When I blew out the candle and made a wish, he handed me a shabby-looking notebook. ‘Happy birthday,’ he shouted, looking at me expectantly. I smiled, but inside I was wondering why the hell he was giving me a used notebook.

When I looked closely, I could see it was actually quite beautiful. It was more antique, than shabby. It seemed like an old diary, covered in leather. The paper was aged, but it was still well-kept. Inside, there were pictures. Many pictures. Me frowning at him, lifting my hand towards the shutter. Me, falling asleep at work, with my head in the papers. Me, watching a movie, straining my face so he wouldn’t notice I’m on the verge of tears (he never cries). Me, laughing like a maniac (probably at one of his stupid jokes, I love those). Me, looking straight into the camera with loving eyes. Then, there was us. Eating ramen. Lying on the grass. Cooking. Cuddling. Making ugly faces.

There was nothing written on any of the pages. One of his favourite cheesy lines is also ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’. He was right. Again. I didn’t need long love letters. I didn’t need any fake confessions. That old leather album was all I could ever wish for.

This time, I couldn’t stop the tear falling. I bowed my head, and tried to dab it away with my sleeve. Unfortunately, my middle name was not slick, and he of course noticed. He first kissed me on the wet trail that the single tear left behind. Then he planted another kiss to the corner of my lips. Then, he gently placed his fingers on my jaw, and turned my head towards himself. ‘Happy birthday,’ he whispered before placing his full lips on mine. They were so plump and soft, and I could never get tired of it. I turned my whole body to him, and while our lips were still locked together, my hand automatically flew to his hair. I loved playing with it, stroking it, running my fingers through it, tugging at it. He pulled me even closer, until I was almost sitting on his lap. I could tell he was getting excited, and I wasn’t falling much behind. I was hugging him, so his torso was almost glued to mine, and his hands were making their way up and down my back, occasionally passing the bottom. The temperature in the room was rising to a dangerous level, and at some point, his lips began brushing against my neck, which was driving me crazy. I held his jacket at the top of the sleeve, slowly gliding it down his arm.

Then, his phone rang. It was almost as if somebody had suddenly stopped a spinning vinyl. We both needed a few second to realize where we were and what was going on. I climbed off of him so he could answer. It was his friend, reminding him to clean up the place before we leave.

Thanks, pal.

After he hung up, we looked at each other a bit awkwardly, then decided it would be best if we cleaned up, and went home. So that’s what we did. On the way home, I couldn’t really focus on our conversation, or anything else for that matter. My body kept reacting to the recollection of our little performance. Should I just drag him into my flat or should we give it more time? Does it matter?

But, what if it’s bad and all the illusion will be gone and everything will be ruined?

What if he doesn’t like me? Like, all of me.

What if we’re all awkward or incompatible?

I had to hit myself on the head to beat out the stupid questions that kept popping up in my mind. Urgh, overthinking. But that only showed how much I cared about what we had. I mean, we came pretty far, given the rough beginnings. Who knew.

Now, we’re at my door, hands to ourselves, eyes wandering up and down the hallway as if it’s the most fascinating hallway we’ve ever seen.

‘Well, we’re here,’ he says in a tense voice. I can tell he was also unsure of what to do next.

Finally, I look at him. He looks back. For a few moments, we’re staring at each other in silence.

Until I’ve had enough.

‘Wanna come in?’