Chapter Text
Things are…not going well with Fuku. Fuku did not like you at all, and there is nothing you seem to be able to do to make it better. Grillby is at a loss. It doesn’t help that murder of monsters is tricky for human police forces. They can't tell the cause of death or collect DNA from dust. They can't ID the victims. They have to call in the Royal Guard. It takes valuable time away from the ability to solve the murder. The first 24 hours are the most crucial. Her father’s case wasn’t handled properly by Human authorities, and Fuku takes that personally. You don’t blame her.
Fuku didn’t eat her breakfast this morning. You made her a smiley face breakfast because you always dreamed of making a kid a cute breakfast like that, and she snapped at you. Said it was childish and stupid. So that was a great start to the day.
Now, you are at the bar, Fuku is doing her schoolwork at one of the tables, sitting with her hot chocolate, when you notice a guy staring at her. Like, a lot. In a gross way. He’s glaring at her, raking her body over with his eyes, licking his lips before he takes a sip of his drink. He looks like he wants to hit her or hit on her, both of which were not acceptable.
So you get up to approach. You step in front of his line of sight.
“You got a look that says fight or fuck, and both can be solved by cuttin’ off yer dick,” you say to the disgusting man.
“I wa’n doin’ nuffin,” the man snorts, but looks cowed. He scuttles off with his metaphorical tail between his legs. You turn back and smile at Fuku, ready to comfort her, but you see her flames flickering angrily.
“I don't need a human doing ANYTHING for me!” She says, throwing her hot chocolate on your face. It stings. In more than one way. “Humans do nothing but hurt and kill! You’re a violent human too, you just aim it at other humans! How can anyone trust you?”
Your anger flares at the insult and injury, an instinct rather than a conscious thought. But you hold in your mother’s fists and take a deep breath. Don’t prove her right.
“That was very disrespectful,” you say as carefully and slowly as you can muster. You are suddenly very aware of the audience of your family's dirty laundry.
Grillby is summoned from the back by your negative feelings and thoughts.
“...Sans, will you please take Fuku home?” You ask the skeleton politely. He gives a nervous chuckle and Grillby nods at him.
“I’m not going anywhere you tell me to!” She sits cross legged on the floor defiantly.
“You know, drunks throw up on that floor,” you say with humor. She growls at you, folding her arms. Sans sighs and puts a hand on her shoulder, teleporting away.
You look back at the crowd, and clear your throat. The room begins moving once more. You grab Fuku’s schoolwork for her and place it behind the bar for safekeeping.
Grillby hugs you from behind, concern and worry running through your bond.
You turn around and look at him, realizing he was wearing a white apron over the embroidered one you made for him. You laugh, feeling a little better. You pick at the apron.
“You know, aprons are made to get dirty.”
“...” He doesn’t deign that worthy of a response. You suppose you can’t say anything, you keep your engagement ring at home while you work so you don't break it punching people.
You go to the bathroom and wash your face, and don't look too long at the reflection.
~*~
Work gets done and you head home. Grillby opens the door and shows you inside like the traditional gentleman he is.
So you’re the first to see the mess.
Fuku has taken all your clothing and torn them to shreds, spreading them all over the living room like confetti. Fuku stands in the center, Queen of chaos.
In her hands is your engagement ring, in the jaws of a wire cutter. Fuku’s flames flicker in victorious defiance as she snaps the ring in half, jewels powdering and flying in every direction.
You stare at the one piece of your ring you see fall to the ground.
You can feel your soul cry out in sorrow. She destroyed the symbol of Grillby’s love for you, his understanding, his want to connect with you on every level. You knew in your heart that this still existed, but the fact that you’ll never be able to see that ring on your finger again hurts you.
Your feelings explode.
ANGER. SADNESS.
No. You think, taking a breath. You feel Grillby feeding you positive thoughts and calming you with his aura. He places a hand on your shoulder.
“...I’ll take care of it…go rest,” Grillby says gently, and you are in no mood to argue with him. You’re in no mood to see Fuku.
You head to your bedroom, but you can still hear the argument.
“You shouldn’t be with her, Uncle Grillby, she’s a human! She’s evil, she’s a killer!” Fuku pleads with Grillby, making you feel small.
Because she’s right. You are a killer. You killed a lot of people. Some you’re sure were innocent. Just kids, forced into war just like you were. You’re against drafts, you feel if a country wants to have its people fight for it, it better serve the people and foster that loyalty by providing a good life worth protecting. You’re just waiting for the government to start issuing drafts for the monster population as well. The day is coming.
“...” You feel Grillby’s frustration. “...I want to show you something…Wait here.” You hear Grillby’s footsteps and through his thoughts you understand Grillby’s plan. He comes into the bedroom and opens a trunk that sat at the foot of his bed, grabbing a photo album and his medals. You come over to give him a hug before he goes back out to talk to Fuku. You hear his thoughts.
GRILLBY’S POV
Grillby sits Fuku down on the couch, his photo album in hand. He doesn’t want to do this, but it’s the only way to drive this point home to Fuku. He needs to do this for you. He’d do anything for you. He has to make this right because everything about you makes him feel right, and he has to make sure you are happy with him. Fuku is important to him, he has to make sure these two parts of his life become cohesive. And that includes digging into things he’d rather stay buried.
Grillby sighs a deep and reluctant sigh as he opens up his album. He gently takes out a weathered sepia picture from the film.
“...This…was me,” he points to himself in his armor. He no longer has the black and gold outfit, it was too clunky. After 500 years underground, he threw it out. He lost hope that they would ever escape, and set all his effort into being a bartender the rest of his life. There’s no need for a suit of armor for a war he’d never fight. “...Do you know…how the war started?”
“Yeah,” Fuku replies without elaborating. Grillby waits patiently. Fuku sighs and eventually caves: “Humans attacked the Monsters, it was a genocide.”
“...Not exactly…” and he begins to tell the story:
A long time ago, a young Monster and a young Human were friends. They lived in a village where the two races coexisted, and there was peace in the kingdom. As they grew, they fell in love. However, a rival for the Monster’s attention beat and killed the Human lover in anger. The Monster rushed to the body of her lover and was overcome with sorrow and grief. When his soul emerged, she tried to grab it and force it back into his body, accidentally absorbing it. She went mad with power, killing the Human who murdered her lover. She was eventually captured and executed, but it was too late. Her actions inadvertently sparked war. People were fearful of the power Monsters could gain from absorbing Human souls. They drove Monsters away from their villages through force, and many died in the process. Monsters fought back, but Humans were too strong. Eventually King Asgore surrendered, and Monsters were forced under the mountain.
Fuku digests this for a moment. “So Humans did genocide Monsters.”
Grillby sighs heavily. “...Monsters started the war when we absorbed the first Human soul…Monsters are capable of violence as well,” he waves the picture at her, “...I killed people.”
“People who deserved it! You didn’t go around forcing innocent people out of their homes.”
“...Do you think that’s what she did when she was in service?” Grillby asks, talking about you.
“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Fuku scoffs. Grillby feels comfort from you soothing his irritation at her words.
“...The people at the top start the war. The people at the bottom fight the war. That is how it has been since people took power over each other. There is no winning or losing, only death and killing and survivors…She was drafted, forced to fight…don’t begrudge her what she had to do to survive.”
Fuku just glares at him.
“...Fuku, why did you destroy her things?” Grillby places a hand on her back.
“You deserve better! She shouldn’t be here,” Fuku throws up her hands. Grillby takes a deep steadying breath. He knows what true hatred looked like, real segregation between Monsters and Humans, and he’d be damned if his own niece perpetuates another war. She is going to have to work through this issue with you.
“...You do know, I’m soulbonded to her, right? She’s my soulmate, Fuku,” Grillby says firmly.
“Well…” She struggles, “break the soulbond! You can do it when they are abusive, and she’s a violent person. It’s only a matter of time,” Fuku simpers. Grillby can feel the rise of your anger and indignation and chuckles a bit, remembering the way the nightmare airhorn came about. You are both evenly matched when it comes to accidental injuries.
“No,” Grillby states without room for argument.
“But-”
“No.” Grillby picks through his album again. He picks up one of himself play fighting with wooden swords with a group of Human children.
“...I killed these children’s fathers. Their older brothers,” he sighs deeply, readying himself to tell the story. He explains how he and his men didn’t realize why they were stationed there, as the village wasn’t hostile toward Monsters. The men helped around and played with the local children, until the order came in. There was a suspicion the men were planning a secret attack. The soldiers took out all the women and children, locked the men inside the houses, and razed them to the ground. Grillby razed them to the ground. “...Who knows if they were truly bad people. I was young, and didn’t question the King.”
Fuku sits in silence, chewing on this information. “So war makes everyone bad.”
“...What about your dad, Fuku? …You know he wasn’t evil, but he was a soldier too. …That’s how he lost his legs. Doing bad things makes you bad in the moment, but doing good things makes you good too. …You can make up for the bad you did if you try to do nothing but good to make up for it. …People get forced into bad situations they can’t help, and that doesn’t make them evil. …They did bad things, but if they truly want to be good, they can be.” Grillby says, fully worn out by talking so much this evening. Fuku can sense this, and sighs deeply.
“...I’ll think about what you said, Uncle Grillby. But I can’t promise I’ll get along with her .” Fuku finally relents.
Grillby breathes, it was a start.
~*~
After a while, things improve somewhat. Fuku asks slightly antagonistic questions sometimes, but Grillby thinks it’s getting better over time. She has to come to terms with it on her own.
Now is the task of making you feel loved and appreciated. A challenge he was willing to throw all of himself into. Fuku is at school, and prep in the kitchen was done, so all he has to do now is sneak up on you.
You’re there, sitting on the couch watching a streaming service when he pounces. He chuckles as you squeal, picking you up easily and throwing you over his shoulder. He carries you as you giggle through the hallway and tosses you on the bed playfully. Grillby loves the sound of your laughter, it makes him light up inside in a way he forgot he could. He takes off his shirt and belt, studying you and caressing your body with his eyes. He stands between your legs and leans over you.
Grillby slides his hot calloused hands across your muscular thighs. He adores your body, strong and sure, but soft too. A beautiful balance. One he wants to appreciate thoroughly.
Grillby takes his time to undress you, caressing your sides with his warm fingers. Once your shirt is off your mouth is on his neck, sucking marks. He groans, your mouth was so perfect, and he knew all the things it could do. You’re so good at everything, Grillby wants to show you everything he’s good at in return.
Trailing his hands up your sides, he gently slides your shirt over your head and bares your upper body to him. Grillby gazes at the beauty before him for a moment, appreciating the moment and giving you a heated smile. He leans down and kisses the soft velvet of your breasts, taking a nipple into his fervent mouth. He feels you writhing under his hands and he gives a deep purring chuckle.
“Guess I’m really under fire now, huh?” You say with a cheeky smirk. Grillby smacks your thigh lightly in disapproval.
“...You need friends other than Sans,” he laughs. You glare at him.
“I don’t want to talk about Sans in bed,” you huff playfully.
Grillby loops his fingers into your jeans and pulls them off with a smooth motion, leaving you in only your underwear. He caresses you through your panties, making you hum in pleasure. Then, because he’s impatient, he quickly divests you of those as well. Grillby grabs you by the hips and pulls you close, settling his head between your thighs. He kisses upwards from your knees, building anticipation.
His tongue kisses your folds and you keen, bucking into his mouth and flooding it with delicious wetness. He can’t get enough of your taste. He never can. It’s evidence of your want for him, for your passion, and he would never not have a need for that.
Grillby never understood the human fetishes some monsters have, until he met you. He definitely has a you fetish. It’s like your body was built for pleasure. You get wet when he purrs at you, you have a little button on the outside just for your enjoyment, and a tight heat that welcomes him inside. He toys with your breasts, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefingers. These he loves, playing with them makes you more sensitive. Yes. You are perfect.
He continues to lick at you until you’re overstimulated, teasing you because he knows you like it.
“Mmm,” you whine cutely at him as you push him off, toes curling. Grillby chuckles, and pulls back to take off his pants. He is fully on display for you. Your eyes trail down his chest and further and he feels a surge of masculine pride at the appreciation in your eyes. There is nothing but a deep seated desire in them. He feels your dirty thoughts run through his mind through the bond and grins.
Grillby puts his hands on your hips and drags you closer to him. You shudder under his hands as he kisses a trail along your neck and caresses you sweetly.
Grillby wonders how bonded couples ever got out of the bedroom. The feelings of his own pleasure is magnified a million times by the thoughts and feelings of his mate. Every touch, every thought has an answering echo that rings through the bond, creating a loop of ecstasy that doesn’t stop for hours after having sex. Like if a hangover was actually fun for once.
Grillby never thought he’d be happy again, until he met you. And he’s going to make up for lost time.
YOUR POV
Afterwards, Grillby covers your body with his, his heat sinking into your skin like the sun after a long winter. You arch into him instinctively, feeling the thrum of his magic pulsing where your bodies meet. His arms cage you in, strong and sure, but his touch remains unbearably gentle.
He nuzzles into your neck, the steady thrum of his breathless laughter making you squirm beneath him. You trail your fingers through the fine edges of his flames, drawing a low, reverent sound from his chest.
“You’re unbelievable,” Grillby murmurs against your skin, voice raw and thick with emotion. His hands find yours and pin them softly above your head, intertwining your fingers with his. His thumb strokes slow, lazy circles against your palm, grounding you in the reality of the moment.
There is no room left for sadness, no sharp edges of uncertainty. Only love. Only this.
He kisses you again, slow and deep, savoring you like you’re the rarest thing he’s ever had the privilege to taste. And maybe you are. You feel it in every deliberate caress, every soft sound he makes against you. You are his, and he is yours.
When he finally pulls back, his smile is soft, almost boyish, a side of him few others get to see. He brushes your hair away from your face with careful fingers, his expression tender.
"You know," he says, voice low and warm, "if this is the only thing I ever get right in my life... loving you... that’s enough."
You smile up at him, chest aching in the best way possible. You reach up and cup his face, the edges of his flame licking harmlessly at your fingertips.
"You already got it right," you whisper back.
Grillby closes his eyes, pressing his forehead gently against yours. He stays there for a long moment, just breathing you in, as if memorizing the feel of you, the bond between you singing with quiet, perfect harmony.
Eventually, he shifts down to curl around you, wrapping his arms and body around yours protectively. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the low rumble of his purr, the absolute contentment radiating from him through the bond.
For now, the world can wait.
All that matters is this: the steady beat of his heart against yours, the warmth of his body cradling you, and the absolute certainty that you are, without a doubt, loved.
~*~
The morning light spills in through the kitchen window, catching the faint dust motes that drift lazily through the air. The smell of sizzling bacon and warm pancakes fills the small space. You stand at the stove, flipping a pancake carefully, while the eggs finish cooking beside it.
Fuku sits at the table, arms crossed, flame low and flickering with a restless energy. She hasn’t said a word since she shuffled into the kitchen. You sneak a glance at her and catch the wary set of her shoulders. A wall still standing between you, half-crumbling but stubborn.
You try not to sigh out loud. It’s not perfect yet. It doesn’t have to be.
“Breakfast’s almost ready,” you say instead, keeping your voice even.
Fuku only shrugs, the tip of her flame curling downward. The silence hangs heavy for a beat longer than is comfortable. You plate up the food, (a generous helping of pancakes, crispy bacon, and sunny-side-up eggs,) and place it in front of her with a hopeful nudge.
She stares at it. You can’t quite read her expression.
“It’s nothing fancy,” you offer, a bit lamely. “Just thought... it might be nice to have a normal morning. Y'know. Pancakes make everything better.”
For a second, you think she’s going to just pick at it, maybe even push it away. But then, slowly, she reaches for the bacon strips. She arranges them in a wide grin beneath the two pancakes, setting the eggs above like goofy eyes. A face: cheerful, ridiculous, and completely deliberate.
You blink, then let out a short, genuine laugh. “Looks happier than I usually am in the morning.”
Fuku's flame flickers a little brighter, a tiny giggle escaping before she can stop it. She ducks her head quickly, but you catch the smile in her voice when she says, “You’re way grumpier.”
You press a hand to your heart in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m only mildly grumpy before coffee.”
Another small laugh from her, real this time. The tension that had clung to the room like a fog begins to lift, melting in the warmth between you.
“Thanks,” Fuku says suddenly, her voice quiet but steady. She looks up at you, and this time her flame is open, vulnerable in a way they hadn’t been in a long while. “For...this. For trying.”
You sit down across from her, coffee in hand. “Anytime, sweetheart,” you say softly. “I'm not perfect, but I'm not going anywhere.”
Fuku picks up her fork and takes a bite of pancake, careful not to disturb the smiley face too much. You sip your coffee and watch her eat, feeling a weight you didn’t realize you were carrying begin to lift from your shoulders.
It’s not perfect. It’s still new, and raw, and sometimes awkward.
But it’s real.
It’s yours.
And somehow, that’s better than perfect.
~*~
One afternoon, a hard phone call comes in.
“Yes. Yes, I understand. Thank you…” You hang up and turn to your family who was listening in. “That was Undyne, they have info on Fryby’s murderers,” you explain, your voice low. “She said they have a lead on two men who were burned badly the night of the murder. But…they said they’ll probably be let off on a loophole. They don’t have video of the actual murder, just the suspects fleeing the crime. They’ll probably argue self-defense because he used his magic.”
“That’s wrong!” Fuku shouts, her voice trembling with anger. You nod, your expression grim.
“Until the laws are changed around here, there won’t be any real protections for monsters when it comes to using their magic,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “Right now, if a monster defends themselves with magic, it’s so easy for humans to twist the story.” Fuku clenches her fists, her flame flickering wildly.
“Well, the laws need to change. They have to. Someone has to change them.” Her voice cracks at the edges, filled with the desperation of loss and the stubbornness of hope.
You hesitate, then say carefully, “I’ve never met a monster lawyer before.” You glance over at her, a small ember of an idea sparking in your mind. “Maybe... maybe we need one?”
Fuku stares at you, her flame dimming for a moment as her mind races. A long silence stretches between you. Then, slowly, she raises a hand to her chest, where her core burns with quiet resolve.
“I guess,” she says, voice steadier now, “I have some studying to do.” You give her a small, proud smile.
“You won’t be alone. I’ll help however I can.”
Fuku nods. She wipes at her face, though tears sizzle harmlessly into steam before they can fall. Her flame flares back to life, burning stronger, more focused.
“I’ll do it,” she whispers fiercely. “For dad. For all of us.”
~*~
You lean casually against the bar, pretending to sip your drink while secretly watching Sans make his slow approach across the room.
Toni notices him coming halfway there. She tips her chair back on two legs and raises an eyebrow, unimpressed but curious. She looks like the kind of person who could throw a punch or throw an arm around you, depending on her mood.
Sans stops a few feet away, hands buried in his hoodie pocket. His grin is easy but a little lopsided, betraying a rare flash of nerves.
"heya," he says. "you look like you could beat me at arm wrestling. and, uh... i’m into that."
Toni blinks. For a second, you think she’s going to deck him.
Instead, she barks out a loud, sharp laugh. "You’re into getting your ass kicked? That’s your opening line?"
Sans shrugs, his grin widening. "better than 'nice boots, wanna bone.' figured i'd be a little more subtle."
You almost choke on your drink. Toni, to your complete shock, grins back.
"Subtle, huh?" she says, planting her boots firmly on the ground and leaning forward. "You’re lucky you’re funny, skeleton. Otherwise I’d have to actually test that arm wrestling theory."
Sans chuckles, stepping closer with the kind of lazy confidence only he could pull off. "nah, you’d win easy. i’m all bones, no muscle."
Toni gives him a mock-pitying pat on the shoulder. "Guess I’ll go easy on you, then."
They stand there, the two of them grinning like idiots, bantering like they’ve known each other for years. It’s stupidly natural, like watching two puzzle pieces click together without even trying.
Toni grabs her beer and lifts it in a half-toast. "Come on, Sans. If you're brave enough to flirt, you're brave enough to sit with me."
Sans gives you a quick, triumphant glance over his shoulder, his single eye-light practically winking.
"brave?" he says, sliding into the seat next to her without hesitation. "nah. just... bonely."
Toni groans, but she’s laughing. She actually punches him in the shoulder, not hard, but enough to make a sharp little clack.
You shake your head and smile into your glass.
Sans sighs, looking dreamily at Toni and you snicker.
Somehow, unbelievably, Sans might have actually found his match.
~*~
IN THE FUTURE
The courthouse steps gleam in the afternoon sun, buzzing with reporters, camera flashes, and the steady hum of a gathering crowd. Flags wave from the stone pillars above, but it is not the buildings or the banners that hold your gaze. It is Fuku.
She stands at the top of the steps, head held high, a crisp navy suit tailored to her tall, flame-lit frame. The gold pin of her newly minted law license shines proudly on her lapel. She looks tired, the kind of tired that comes from years of work. Long nights hunched over law books, hearings, rejections, and small victories have built, piece by piece, into this. Into today.
You stand near the bottom of the steps, shoulder to shoulder with Grillby, who has closed the bar for the day. His usually reserved face flickers with quiet, overwhelming pride.
Fuku lifts a sheaf of papers, the court ruling, and clears her throat. Her voice carries strong and clear through the crowd without a microphone.
"We fought for this because love does not know species or boundaries," she says. "Monsters and humans have lived alongside each other, bled for each other, and healed together. It is time our laws caught up with our hearts."
A ripple of applause breaks out, cautious at first, then swelling into something bigger. You see monsters in the crowd, some wiping their eyes openly, others clutching hands, human and monster alike, trembling with excitement.
Fuku glances downward and for just a second, her eyes find you. The proud, quiet smile she gives is not the polished one she wears for the cameras. It is real. It is the same smile you saw over pancakes so many years ago, when trust between you was just beginning to grow. You blink back tears.
Today is not just about law. It is about people like Fuku and Fryby. It is about the future they deserved but had been denied for so long. It is about the long, hard work it takes to mend a broken world, starting with a broken heart, one breakfast table, one classroom, one courtroom at a time.
Grillby rests a warm hand on your shoulder. You realize you are clapping, cheering even, caught up in the wave of hope and gratitude rising around you.
Fuku bows her head respectfully to the crowd and then steps down the marble steps, papers tucked under one arm. When she reaches you, she does not say anything at first. She just opens her arms.
You do not hesitate. You hug her tightly, feeling the steady, fierce heat of her flame.
"You did it, kid," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.
"We did it," Fuku corrects, her voice equally choked. She pulls back and smiles wider than you have ever seen.
Standing there among strangers and family alike, you know that everything you fought for, everything she fought for, has been worth it.
This is only the beginning.
And Fuku is ready to change the world.
~*~
The afternoon sun filters softly through the tall windows of the old garden hall, turning the air golden. Garlands of white and pink flowers drape from the arches overhead, and the faint scent of roses and fresh grass lingers, sweet but not overwhelming. Gentle chatter fills the space as guests settle into their seats. Monsters and humans sit side by side, laughter and nervous excitement weaving them together into one joyful tapestry.
Somewhere nearby, the band shifts. The first delicate notes of the wedding march rise into the air.
You take a deep breath.
The world seems to narrow to the aisle ahead. You gaze down it and see everyone you love gathered, faces turned toward you. Their smiles seem to light the room brighter than the sun. Your eyes search until they find Grillby's back, straight and sure, waiting for you at the altar. The angles of his suit make his shoulders look stronger and broader, and you wonder if he’d maybe keep it on for a while during the honeymoon.
You swallow and gather yourself. Then, you step forward one step at a time, the red carpet soft under your shoes and scattered with pink rose petals. Each step brings a new wave of feeling, a quiet, overwhelming sense of rightness. Love and peace soak into your skin with every breath you take, filling you from the inside out.
The crowd blurs at the edges of your vision. It is only Grillby you see now, waiting there so patiently, his flame flickering faintly in rhythm with the music. When you are halfway there, he turns. You can feel when his gaze meets yours and for a moment the whole world stands still.
There is no fear. No doubt. Only the beautiful gravity that has pulled you both to this moment.
As you reach him, he extends his hand, his palm warm and steady. You take it without hesitation, feeling the delicate, careful way his fingers close around yours.
King Asgore clears his throat gently, his voice calm but strong as they begin the ceremony. You hardly hear the words. You only pay attention to the way Grillby’s flame pulses a little brighter when you say your vows, the way he almost imperceptibly squeezes your hand when he says his. His voice, low and steady, wraps around each promise, each word carrying weight and meaning honed over a lifetime of silent understanding.
"I promise," you say, the words flowing naturally, "to walk beside you in all things. To shelter your flame when it falters, and to let it light the way when mine grows dim."
Grillby’s answer is a soft, rumbling warmth that hums through his whole being. His vows are emblazoned on your heart forever:
"I have few words, but endless feelings. Today, I vow to be your warmth when the world is cold, your quiet when life is too loud, your steady flame when the winds rise. I vow to walk beside you, hand in hand, and to love you with a fire that will never go out. You are my heart, and my home. Always."
When the moment comes, you both lean in, and his forehead touches yours first affectionately, before he very carefully kisses you. a kiss feather-light but burning with meaning.
The applause that rises around you feels distant, as though it belongs to another world. Here, in this space between you and Grillby, there is only quiet joy, and the certainty that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
You turn together to face your family and friends, hand in hand. Fuku stands in the front row, beaming, her flame burning high with pride. Her eyes shine, and she mouths, You did it.
Grillby leans in slightly, his voice just for you. "I love you."
“I love you too,” you answer easily.
And as you both step forward, surrounded by love and laughter, you know without a doubt that you are walking into a life built on something stronger than fear, and something gentler than time.
The End