#selftober

The first time went to Grillby’s was at the request of a friend of yours because you had mentioned casually that you had met the owner of the monster bar out and about in the city. You had to clarify that you weren’t exactly bff’s and that you didn’t know if Grillby would even notice or care that you were there. However, the moment the two of you stepped into the bar, a monster came up to you and directed you two to a private booth on the upper levels. The real VIP shit. Grillby had ‘graced’ you with his presence, and spent the next two hours flirting hardcore with your best friend who had retaliated back.

Another reason you hated bars. When your friends spent more time with a random guy than with you, the person they came with.

When she had excused herself to go to the washroom, Grillby had shifted his focus onto you. Who at that point had all of two drinks, both of which were non-alcoholic.

“Not drinking tonight?” he had asked, leaning back against the plush booth seats in the kind of way that a man who thinks he’s every person’s wet dream does. You shook your head and returned your focus blandly towards the mass of human and monster bodies writhing below on the dance floor. This was more of a club than a bar...which you hated even more.

Apparently, that was what set off Grillby’s interest in you. The absolute disinterest in him or his bar. He admitted later that it was mostly due to him wanting the chase, see if he could worm his way into your good graces and see if it led somewhere…preferably with a bed.

You’d admitted that you were rarely into someone sexually until you’d developed actual feelings for them, and that while he was very attractive…you didn’t give a shit about getting him into your bed.

After that, you’d gone to his club bar a few more times with your friend, but much earlier in the day before the club crawlers came through. When it was quieter, and you could actually have a meal there…you know, when it was actually a bar and not a club. (Grillby still insists that it is not a club. No matter how many times you explained the difference.)

You remember how jealous Grillby had been when you had made quick friends with Sans. Which, when Grillby had grumbled about that, you said that Sans was funny and while flirty didn’t actually intend to bed you. Unlike someone else. Grillby had grumbled his way to another patron saying that if he couldn’t bed you, Sans had no chance.

You had merely snorted at that. Sans was funny, a great conversationalist, and you didn’t balk at him drinking mustard which he found hilarious

(‘cus, seriously, dollface, who t’fuck doesn’t react ta someone drinking straight mustard? normally grosses people out’

‘I have a sister who, in high school, would drink ketchup straight from the bottle. Practically the same thing in my eyes.’

‘holy shit, girl after my own soul. wanna introduce me?’

‘Not really.’).

Of course, then Sans had questioned why you weren’t into Grillby. You had then admitted that…you weren’t comfortable around guys who were notorious flirts, especially considering you didn’t do ‘one-night stands’. You’d dated one flirt in the past…and that he had…cheated on you. Sans had gotten a rare serious look on his face and said, “grillbz is nothin’ if he ain’t loyal. tch. purple bastard has some standards.”

“I…good to know?” you said, frowning slightly, but then you had met Grillby’s eyes from across the bar, and blushed. The single thought of ‘What if?” flitting through your mind before you squashed it instantly, and looked back at Sans. The conversation had thrown you for a loop more than anything…and you had left the bar shortly after. It didn’t matter what Sans said. You weren’t going to just swoon into Grillby’s arms because he flirted with you…no one else would ever do that to you again.

Unfortuantely, for your budding feelings, you’d been dragged to the bar once again by your friend a couple months after that conversation. After being abandoned by your friend, a friendly monster striked up a conversation with you…and casually mentioned how different Grillby was now, and how he ‘hasn’t killed anyone since coming to the Surface’.

You knew from the news that the Underground unfortunately operated with the motto ‘Kill or Be Killed’…but you never truly thought any of the friendly monsters you met could ever be capable of murdering. You’d actually started to think that it had been something the media made up to make people hate monsters or feel sorry for them. You never thought it was true.

Until then.

It was probably one of the biggest turn offs you’d ever had towards someone. Y

ou’d actually started to actively avoid him after you had heard that…and he had stayed away from you as well. Even though he later would say that he was really grumpy that you were avoiding him, because he missed seeing you around. However, one day the two of you had bumped into each other, and he’d asked why you were avoiding him. You answered. He then asked for a few minutes for him to defend himself. You had retorted you didn’t think a murderer could ‘defend’ their reasoning. He had agreed but re-asked for a few minutes. You…reluctantly said yes. Not because you were afraid that if you said no he’d take it badly, in fact, even then you knew if you said ‘no’ he’d respect it.

Yes. Grillby had killed before. In fact, he’d once been a General in the Human-Monster War, but eventually…the Underground twisted the monsters. He was already a fairly high LV monster, and for a while no one bothered him or anyone near him. However, once monsters started to increase in LV…they started to become more foolish and bold. The first actual monster he killed was because they attempted the life of a friend of his (who apparently later died during another attack). At first, he’d killed only in defense if the other monster wasn’t backing down. Eventually…he lost some of his morals and he killed a few monsters as an example…and then he didn’t need to kill anymore. Especially when his once red flames became twisted by his LV and became violet.

Then…one day a human child wandered into his bar with Sans, sat at the bar…and the other monsters in his bar simply smiled warmly at the child and did nothing. The once ravenous dog monsters almost begged for pets from the small human child. Apparently, they had shown the monsters of Snowdin that kindness would always win against violence.

It had been the first of many nights that Grillby had…almost Fallen Down. His morals were lost. He’d killed because he could…and not to defend those he cared about. All that he knew, every Knightly part of him had fallen and he didn’t think he’d ever get that back.

Grillby said that he’d completely understand if you didn’t want to be near him…and then added that he didn’t want you to tell anyone what he just told you…about the whole Falling Down thing and the self-hatred. He had an image he needed to maintain…even if he didn’t want to anymore.

You hadn’t been about to throw yourself into his arms and tell him you were going to help fix him…but it was a unsteady start that quickly grew into the most stable thing you had.

It had taken nearly three years for you to notice that he was actively trying to change his way of thinking, for him to tell you that he was in therapy for everything he’d done (though he once again insisted you didn’t tell anyone. Not even Sans.) and plenty of flirty moments from his side, before you felt yourself falling for him. Once again, it was Sans who said something off-handedly that made you reconsider how you saw Grillby. “grillbz’s always been a big asshole…but he’s more likely ta grit his teeth and try ta talk monsters now into apologizin’ for slights against his purple ass. s’weird seein’ that y’know? being able ta see the sun must’a helped him.”

Then…about six months after that conversation. Grillby asked you on a date. No flirting. No lead up. No clever words. Just…

“Would you like to go on a date?”

That was it.

It honestly…shocked you and for a moment you hadn’t said anything.

Then you said ‘Sure’…and you had yet to regret that answer.

A year and a half later, you were content with your relationship with the prickly purple fire monster who sometimes came to your apartment at three in the morning because he closed up the bar and didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment. You learned quickly that the reason he had a bar was to be surrounded by people…and that he hated loneliness.

Which…you did too…and eventually you gave him a key to your apartment. When he quietly slipped into bed next to you, wrapping his warm, strong arms, around you? You were never more relaxed then you were when the two of you were cuddling in bed.

Grillby had said many times at the beginning of your relationship to him that if anything he said or did made you uncomfortable? Tell him when you felt comfortable doing so, whether that was immediately, when the two of you were alone, or text it to him. Eventually, the two of you figured each other out enough that he could just glance at you and assess if you were cool with whatever was happening…but that still didn’t stop him from checking in with you.

The first time you two had sex, you had initiated it when he came to your apartment after he was finished work. He’d kissed your shoulder, slid his hand over your stomach to rest on your hip and pulled you closer for a cuddle. You had curled against him, and gently guided his hand further over. He had whispered asking if you really wanted to go there, and you had said ‘yes’ and that you were ready.

It had been slow and languid, fully of sleepy kisses that grew hungry and then sleepy once again.

Yet…there was still something off between the two of you…and a conversation with your mother set off your relationship anxiety.

“You two are so different…it makes me worry about the long-term for you. Who knows what he’s doing at that bar? He’s very…flirtatious. I’d hate to see you get hurt again. To be honest, I don’t even know what you see in him…and what does he see in you? You’re too innocent for him…”

Those words had been bouncing through your head all day after getting off the phone with your mother. During the weekend you’d finally introduced Grillby to your parents, thinking they’d be accepting of your relationship at the very least. They’d never been the kind of parents to question your relationships or try to involve themselves in your love life. Then again you’d only introduced them to one other of your significant others before and that relationship hadn’t turned out well.

As much as you didn’t want them to, the words wormed their way into your thoughts every time you were given a spare moment to think. Slowly consuming your mind and whispering wicked thoughts into your conscious that made you start to doubt…everything.

Grillby, your boyfriend of roughly a year and a half, was your polar opposite. While he was known for flirting with nearly everything that moved, you rarely flirted with anyone no matter how attractive you found them. Hell, when someone flirted with you, you couldn’t form a coherent thought for a few seconds while you blushed like mad.

Even with the whole bar thing you were opposites. He thrived in his bar, he loved it and had said multiple times that if he didn’t own a bar he would’ve found one just to hang out in. As for you? You hated the bar scene. All the noise, the smell of sweat and booze, the feeling of too many bodies in too small of a space, the overall heat? It drove your anxiety straight through the roof.

Where you were shy and quiet, he was outgoing and boisterous…in a way that grated a lot of people’s nerves. Over the five years you’d known him, he’d gotten into more fights than you had fingers on your hands all over stupid things that you’d argue with him that it wasn’t worth it. You, on the other hand, couldn’t even get into a verbal confrontation without bursting into tears, and you would rather capture bugs and let them go outside than kill them.

However…what people didn’t understand, but you did, was that just because you were so different than Grillby didn’t mean that your relationship couldn’t work.

He was an insane flirt, yes that was incredibly true…however, you’d never seen or heard him flirt with anyone else when you two started to date. Sure, he’d throw a casual compliment or other to someone, like had to your mother as that was in his nature. The thing was, you knew the difference between him trying to appease someone else or get them to buy into whatever it was he was selling, and actually flirting with him. It was all in his body language. A single compliment, said at more than arms length distance? That sure as hell wasn’t Grillby flirting.

When he was flirting with someone he was actually interested in, he’d lean in close and keep the conversation between the two of them. You’d seen it many times first hand, quiet compliments and flirtatious remarks that were only meant for you to hear. He’d offer free drinks to those he was either interested in, or close to, with a flair to show off.

Plus, the conversation with Sans from years previous really soothed your fears, but apparently Sans had quietly informed Grillby one day when Grillby had been showing off to some college girls while you were in the bar…and you had gotten uncomfortable. It had been after you had left, and before you could work up the courage to actually tell him that it had made you uncomfortable.

Apparently, the knowledge had lit up the rage in Grillby at your ex for daring to betray your trust like that (which surprised you because he’d come knocking on your door at like three in the morning, so you were tired and watching him rant and rave and then you had simply went back to bed (in the morning you two had an actual discussion about it where you explained everything that happened.))

“You two are so different…it makes me worry about the long-term for you. Who knows what he’s doing at that bar? He’s very…flirtatious. I’d hate to see you get hurt again. To be honest, I don’t even know what you see in him…and what does he see in you? You’re too innocent for him…”

The more you thought on your mother’s words…the more you became incensed that she had even dared to say that. Grillby was nothing like your ex. At all.

Sure, Grillby could be a huge asshole sometimes and had come to your apartment dishevelled more times than you could count from fights, he was a huge softie on the inside. He’d get flowers delivered to you when he was working and you texted him to vent about your bad day. If you were feeling ill, he’d send you some soup he made via Sans (who would complain about having to do it but then would text you later to see if you were feeling any better (they’re both big softies, even if they both denied it when you mentioned it)).

You were fuming about it, curled up on the couch in your apartment watching your favourite Netflix series.

It was actually a love confession between the two characters that struck a chord in you.

A year and a half and neither of you had ever said ‘I love you.’

Tears had burst forth and you were unable to stop them as all your insecurities just flooded to the surface.  Maybe you two were too different? Maybe he had stuck it out for the long run just for the chase. Maybe he kept coming back just to have sex? Maybe, maybe, maybe.

The kept swelling and churning up deeper and deeper insecurities until you were a mess and thinking horrible scenarios.

Thankfully, that was when Grillby had crept into your apartment after the bar had been closed up. He’d kissed away your tears until you were giggling at the feeling of them evaporating off your skin, and he was kissing down your neck to rid the tears that had escaped his careful smooches.

“What the hell’s got you so…leaky,” he grumbled, tilting your head up towards his. You quietly, and through more unshed tears, told him what your mother had said. The flames on his head shrunk slightly, and his flames deepened in colour. You felt the smallest bit of heat increase, and you knew he was furious. He released your face gently, before he leaned back, and started rubbing at his own face. “God damn woman…give someone a compliment and they think you’re flirting with them. For fucks…I own the bar, what does she think I’m doing? Fuckin…I’m making drinks all night and listening to stupid assholes make stupid pick up lines to women who are so uninterested it’d be funny if it weren’t so fucking sad. And! For her fucking information, I’d never hurt you like that asshole, because I may not have many standards, but I do have them. For one, you’re a fucking catch? Not even just your sexy ass body, but you’re cute, funny, and you’re incredibly smart and shit. Plus, you can defuse a situation just by humor or distracting without needing to threaten anyone. Like, do you think people respect me enough to let a tense situation drop just because I said ‘oh! When did Grillby get a new chandelier?’ fuck no. They wouldn’t pay attention to me if I said that shit. But you? They’re suddenly like ‘oh sick chandelier.’ No fucking respe-”

You interrupted him, “I did actually just notice you put up a new chandelier.”

“I know,” he kissed your forehead, “Nobody else fuckin’ did besides that little cheap bastard.”

You had to huff out a laugh at that and cuddle into his side, “Because they’re too focused on the beautiful purple asshole.”

He snorted, an ungraceful sound that you knew he’d never make in front of anyone but you…and maybe Sans. “Stop trying to change the subject to me, sweetheart…you’re also fucking incredible at helping me through my shit. Like, anyone else would be running for the fucking hills, but you actually…give a fuck. You know? Besides, your mom is fucking wrong if she thinks for a minute that I’m with you for any other reason besides me being fucking in love with you, then she can go and…I don’t know, fuck herself. Cheating on someone you love isn’t my fucking style.”

“Love?” you blurted out, tears slipped down your face.

He reached over and simply wiped them away with his thumb, “Obviously. I don’t fucking meet anyone’s parents. Too many strings attached with that shit for a quick lay. You know, for a woman who is so concerned about your happiness, you’d think she’d learn to word things better so they don’t sting so bad. Might haveta fucking marry you one day to prove her wrong.”

Grillby pulled you forward and kissed you firmly before standing up, “Come on, what is it Sans is always calling you? ‘Dollface’? You got work in the morning and it’s way too fucking late for you to be up crying over a bit-”

“I love you too,” you interrupted, and sparks flew from his head. You saw a look of surprise before his face shifted bluish for a moment. The softest look imaginable crossed over his features, and he slowly knelt down in front of you on the couch and captured your lips into the softest, gentlest kiss.

“Fuckin’ waited for a year and a half to you say that,” he mumbled against your lips, “hope I’ll be hearin’ them a lot more.”

You wrapped your arms around him, “I love you, you pompous purple prick.”

“Ooo name calling,” Grillby smirked, leaning back, “Next you’ll be talkin’ dirty.”

You leaned forward, and whispered something…very scandalous into his ear that had his fingers gripping your hips to an almost painful degree. Grillby had an almost dazed smirk on his face, “That can be arranged.”

You let out a startled laugh as he slipped his hands under your ass and lifted you off the couch, and stood at the same time.

You didn’t care how different he was to you.

This relationship? It worked wonderfully.

You loved him, and he loved you.