#Nbc grimm

[theinnermostsanctum]

[charliewrites99]

Season 1 of Grimm:

Every Wesen @ Monroe: Oh my god, you can't be friends with a Grimm! They are our mortal enemies! They killed so many of our own! You should be ashamed-

Monroe: Ok, listen I know, but he is absolutely useless. This man doesn't know anything about anything. It's literally the saddest most pathetic thing I have ever seen. And he can't speak German.

Nick in the background getting his ass handed to him by a wesen he has never seen before, which didn't stop him from getting into a fistfight anyway.

Monroe: He is different I swear...I can change him... YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!

[wesen-grimmopedia]

The Grimm writers were so real for making a wesen whose name directly translates to “bloodbath” and then giving us the softest cardigan wearing, cello playing, vegetarian clockmaker.

[spiritxbone]

Just thinking about how Nick’s entire arc depended on Monroe’s kindness to him. Just think about it. Nick identified him as Wessen and immediately arrested him and accused him of kidnapping. Without Monroe, Nick’s only resource for the Wessen world would be the trailer, and he would quickly fall into his grandfather’s philosophy. And seeing so many Wessen in his homicide investigations, the biases would be enforced.

And Monroe, despite being raised on the same horror stories about Grimm, and never meeting one before, decides to guide Nick in his case. He decides to extend the first olive branch. He’s not the former villain turned morally gray sidekick. He’s just an undoubtedly good guy.

[loluy]

I guess you don’t need to be a Hexenbiest to be a witch. - Nick

You don’t have to be a witch to work this kind of magic. - Adalind

Because under different circumstances, i think you and i could have really had some fun. (Adalind)

Гримм/Grimm (2011-2017)

[jellysmudge]

Top 10 Grimm Scenes: the episode in early season one when Monroe says, “Well, I sniffed her out,” and Nick responds with “Good boy ;)” and Monroe looks absolutely fucking appalled.

[fourteendaysinaweek]

Nick: 'oh no we're doomed by the narrative' maybe you are but I'm the narrative's favorite

Nick: update that's not a good thing

[archaghoul]

What would yall call this

[crack-canon]

Ah man, there's gotta be more fics about Nick wearing Monroe's clothes to the precint during winter months cuz they're big and cozier

I wanna see his Wesen coworkers react in surprise when they see a peek of a claiming mark on his neck. Yeah they knew Nick was a grimm who was on their sde but never expected him to actually get with a Wesen

They know it's a blutbad that's for sure from both the scent and the style of mate claiming but they can't help but wonder who it is.

Perhaps when the other Wesen coworkers first caught a whiff of blutbad on him nearly everday, they began to betting pool to see how long it would take for this unknown Blutbad to claim the Grimm

Was it rather strange and very dangerous for everyone? Yeah. But it was it one hell of an uproar when Nick came to work one day subtly reeking of sex with a claiming bite high above his jacket collar for the world to see

[green5quirrel]

TL;DR: I think Monroe's striking and chiming clocks were underutilized for truly hilarious interruptions when the hour strikes and 5 or so clocks announce it in sync.

I think we've all looked over a very important detail in Nick having stayed over at Monroe's for a time. I feel like I REALLY want someone to explore this in a fanfiction of some sort.

Monroe has several "striking" clocks in his house. A striking clock (or just clock for those who differentiate clocks as striking and timepieces as non-striking) makes sounds every hour, half hour, or can chime every quarter hour depending on the number of mechanisms.

Monroe obviously has a grandfather clock (or grandmother clock as I'm not sure the height of it) thanks to him telling Hap not to touch it. So that is definitely a striking and chime clock. Or has the potential to be as such if it's not silenced. He also has potentially more than one cuckoo clock.

Can you imagine the absolute terror of a person who has never been in a house with more than one striking clock as it hits the hour or half hour for the first time.

Now, ideally Monroe will have silenced most of his clocks. I don't know. I don't have any working clocks. I don't know how most horologists do things at their private homes. If they find the striking nostalgic or welcomed. But let's err on the side that Monroe has been living alone for a long time and actually does find a few chimes and striking nostalgic after growing up with it as his dad seemed to also be into clocks.

Let's layer this with the fact that Nick has very sensitive hearing (though I'm not sure when that happens. I could have my timelines wrong). Despite that, you're just getting to sleep at around 11pm or midnight and for some reason have been oblivious to or accepting of the chimes during the day. Or this is your first night in your friend, Monroe's, house and suddenly the first floor below you erupts in various chimes and tunes.

Can you imagine?!

I'm actually kind of astounded that this was never properly explored in the. In not one scene does any of Monroe's clocks strike despite how long everyone is at his house. I mean, if I had clocks I'd at least appreciate one of them striking.

The point is, I really want to either write or read a fanfiction where either Rosalee or Nick or Hank experiences the sound of an hour in the most unexpected way and grumpily complains to a completely and adorably oblivious Monroe.

(It would also have been a great gag if in the middle of a dramatic conversation it struck the top of the hour and Monroe patiently waits for his clocks to sound off before continuing. And Nick/whoever he's talking to is just like "Seriously dude?" And he's like, "What? ...fine! I'll silence them. Jeez! I didn't ask you to be here anyway, man!")

[mikaela-granger]

Incorrect Quote 1 - Grimm

Fandom: Grimm

Banner courtesy of @cafekitsune

Incorrect quote inspired by a quote from @911-incorrect-quotes-dispatch

Y/N: Stop looking down at me.

Sean: I am taller than you, of course I look down at you.

Wu: Maybe you better put some inches in her than.

Y/N (blushing): Would you stop hitting on me on his behalf?

Sean: I am perfectly capable of ‘hitting on’ Y/N without your help.

Wu: You two are taking forever. I’m trying to speed up the process.

[theinnermostsanctum]

[alannacouture]

The enduring female friendships of the women of Grimm will always make me happy (that, and their casual, all the time drinking 🍷)

[wesen-grimmopedia]

I’m going to pretend that I’m not going feral for Grimm after starting to rewatch it, and that I’m definitely not slightly distressed by the lack of active fandom this show has.

[charliewrites99]

I forgot just how much big sister-little brother energy Nick and Rosaliee have. And it's so fitting because Rosaliee just lost her brother and Nick never had siblings (I wouldn't be surprised if he always wanted them considering his family situation). It's just so endearing how Rosaliee is like: Fuck, this bitch, in the middle of the night, every time. Yes Nick I will help, I can't get a second of peace-

And then absolutely saves his and Monroe's ass when they inevitably get themselves in over their heads because they never do any research ever before doing anything.

This also makes Rosaliee/Monroe a pseudo "friend of my brother's" romance.

[fairy-writes]

Hi! Me again, your friendly neighborhood Sean Renard lover! I was wondering if whenever you feel like writing if you would consider writing Sean being very protective over the reader and everyone is saying to him that he’s so in lover with them and he’s like “no I’m not” and then he’s like realizing that’s he’s like in love with the reader damn near devoted. Or whatever you’d like to write. I’d honestly be happy with anything you put out. But take your time, no rush needed. Just whenever you feel like it. Thank you so much!!!! Have an awesome day!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

LITTLE BIRD

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): NBC Grimm

Pairing(s): Sean Renard x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Wesen!Reader, Use of nicknames (little bird), Reader is implied to have longer hair, but it’s not explicitly stated

Notes: I hope you enjoy!

TW for violence in the latter half of the oneshot (I’ll add an extra trigger warning when that starts)

__________________________________________________________________________

“Lieutenant Renard?” Sean looks up from his desk to see Cadet Drew Wu fidgeting with his button-down cuffs. He was nineteen and green in the gills, still exploring his options as a police cadet. But even though he hadn’t fully committed to the police academy yet, he was a hard worker. 

He’d make a good police officer.

Sean sets down his pen and clears his throat.

“What’s the matter, Wu?” The police cadet stepped aside, and Sean’s jaw almost dropped at the sight of you. It was as if you had come straight from a painting. It seemed you hadn’t changed at all. Well… not exactly. You had aged, being a handful of years younger than him.

But you were still as beautiful as the day he lost you.

After all, the last time he had seen you was when his mother took him, and they fled from the Royal family out for his blood. You were but a fledgling that hadn’t yet sprouted in your full glory.

You both stare at each other before Wu swallows awkwardly and takes his leave. Then, you take a seat at his desk and smile,

“It’s certainly been a while, Sean.” You say quietly, and he feels his heart stutter at your warm words.

It had been years since anyone other than his mother was so full of kindness for him.

He sets down his pen and leans his forearms on the desk.

“How did you find me?” He asks seriously, and you shrug 

“I have my ways. You should know this by now.” You tease, and your eyes flash a deep glowing blue for just a second. So quick, in fact, that he almost missed it. Feathers as black as pitch shuddered down your hairline before disappearing into your tresses.

Sometimes he forgot you were wesen. A Raub-Kondor, to be exact. And a brilliant one at that. You were often employed, even at a young age, by the Royal Families to track down and “take care of��� certain traitors or deserters. It was how he met you in the first place. The thought of your job made him shudder,

“Are you here to get rid of me?” At this, you looked downright offended, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open ever so slightly.

“Of course not!” You hiss, and he feels his shoulders relax. He wasn’t in danger after all. You notice his palpable relief and smile that smile that makes his heart skip a beat. 

The two of you part ways with the promise of meeting up for coffee. Your number is stored safely in Sean’s phone, and you even send him a text saying, “It’s me :)” and he can’t help but smile at the little emoji. You were always lighthearted despite all the blood on your hands. 

You shift in place, eyes scanning every face in the small coffee shop as you wait for Sean to arrive. You check your phone and scroll through the brief messages you had shared with your childhood friend. He wasn’t the best conversationalist via texting. He typically preferred a call over texts. 

“Have you been waiting long?” Comes his voice, and you jump, knee jerking up and hitting the underside of the table. Your eyes meet his, and he offers a half smile, clearly amused by your reaction.

“Not at all. I just got here a few minutes ago. I took the liberty of ordering you a coffee, black with one sugar, if I remember right?” You say, ears burning at your surprise at his arrival. He sheds his long overcoat, drapes it over the chair across from the booth you were in, and takes a seat. 

“You remember correctly. I’m surprised you remember after all this time.” 

At that, you duck your head, ears burning even more in embarrassment. 

“I try to remember everything about you.” You say quietly, so quietly that he can barely hear it. But obviously, he does because his face splits into a warm grin. 

He looks so handsome when he smiles. 

The waitress brings over your drinks and a slice of chocolate cake that you ordered. You visibly brighten at the sight of the sweet treat and nearly dig in when you remember your manners. 

“Would you like some?” You offer, noting the waitress had gone through the trouble to give you an extra fork for the occasion. Sean, sipping his coffee, shakes his head. 

“Thank you, but I’ll pass for now. I know how much you adore your sweets.” He teases and you roll your eyes, secretly happy that you get the chocolate dessert all to yourself. 

The cake is absolutely demolished in a few minutes flat, though you were careful not to get any crumbs on your clothes. Then, you start on your coffee. 

“I see you still are a sugar addict,” Sean says as you add sugar to your bitter drink. You huff but stir and take a sip of the sweetened beverage. Perfect. 

“I prefer the term sugar motivated.” You say, and he chuckles, making your breath catch, but you hide it quickly by taking another sip. 

You thought your crush on the bastard prince had died over the years. 

Clearly not. 

“So…” You start, and he looks up from his coffee, eyebrow raised. “How’s life here in Portland?” He hums, glancing around the coffee shop before answering. 

“It’s certainly different than Vienna. But enough about me… Why are you here?” He asks, suddenly serious, and you have to fight the urge to sit up straight. 

You should’ve guessed he would ask something like this. It had taken you years to track him down to the Portland area. And for what? But you knew better than to lie. 

So… 

You didn’t. 

“I missed you. As stupid as it sounds, I missed having someone to talk to. Well… that and your mother is concerned about you joining the police department. She’s worried it’ll put a target on your back.” You say, and Sean sits back in his chair, stirring his coffee absentmindedly as he mulls over your words. 

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine. I’m surrounded by good people.” He says, and you raise an eyebrow skeptically. Thankfully, Sean takes your concern seriously. He always has. 

“But what if things go wrong?” You ask, and he shrugs a shoulder. 

“If it makes you feel any better, you are more than welcome to stay here in Portland to keep an eye on me.” You smile at his words, 

“I’d like that.” 

Despite your promises to keep out of the way, you quickly become absorbed into his little work family. As the years go on and the precinct grows, you are always a constant at his side. You attend his promotion ceremony from his previous ranks to precinct captain, and he holds your gaze the entire time as he gives his speech. 

Even as people come up and congratulate him, he finds himself only wanting your attention. He couldn’t care less about everyone else. 

He feels a smaller hand slip into his, and he looks to find you smiling up at him. He sets down his glass of champagne, still mildly embarrassed that the precinct threw this shindig for him. 

“Congratulations, Sean.” You whisper, and he hides a smile, but you still catch the twitch of his lips, and your smile widens. 

He’s about to say something, but you are both interrupted. 

“Is this your spouse?” Hank Griffin, homicide detective, and one of the most senior staff at the department. He’s followed by the newer homicide detective and his new work partner, Nick Burkhardt. Sean huffs out a dry laugh and shakes his head,

“Nothing like that. They’re a childhood friend, that’s all.” He says, and Hank nods, not entirely convinced.

Why was everyone doing that when he introduced you? Hell, even Wu didn’t seem to believe him.

Later, Sean spies you chatting with Nick as you raid the dessert table. You’re polite, and he feels his heart clench as Nick says something to make you laugh. Feathers shift down your hairline like they did whenever you half-woged, and he sees Nick’s face drop, but he hides the expression by the time you look up from your sweets. And that makes the clenched feeling in Sean’s heart twist more. 

Was he a Grimm?

He’d have to look into this more. 

Sean, ever the gentleman, walks you to your car after the celebration of his promotion. You, feeling adventurous, slip your hand into his and swing them back and forth ever so slightly. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t complain. He even squeezes your hand. 

“I just wanted to say congratulations again.” You say as he opens your car door. You squeeze his hand once more, and he offers a quick quirk of his lips that you almost miss. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you, little bird.” He says and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles. You feel your cheeks heat up and hide an embarrassed smile. 

He always was the cheeky one. 

Feeling a bit bold, you lean out our car window just as he leans down to presumably tell you goodbye and kiss his cheek. He freezes, eyes widening ever so slightly in shock, but he doesn’t say anything. 

He remains like that as you drive away, brushing his cheek with his fingers.

You chew on your lip as you watch him disappear in your rearview mirror. 

Hopefully, you didn’t mess things up by doing that. 

You don’t hear from Sean for several days. And it’s making you nervous. Had you overstepped your boundaries? Had you misread the signs from all your little coffee outings? 

The book in front of you failed to hold your attention as you glanced from the words on the page to the cellular device next to you. After another thirty minutes, just when you were about to give up on reading, your phone buzzed. 

Buzz… buzz buzz… buzz buzz…

The book was hastily bookmarked, and you scooped up the phone and swiped right to answer the call.

“Hello?” You said, trying to seem… well… not breathless or like you were anticipating the call. 

“Are you busy?” Sean asks, sounding ragged as if he had been working for three days straight. 

His new promotion must be wearing him down.

“I was just reading. Is everything okay?” You ask and hear a quiet hum on the other end.

“Might I invite you to dinner tonight?” Your heart skips a beat. 

Dinner… that was a step up from coffee dates. 

A big step up. 

You make a noise to let him know you hadn’t died at the suggestion (though you certainly felt like you were about to pass out).

“I suppose I might be free tonight. Let's say we eat at seven o’clock?” You tease him gently and hear him write something down. 

“I’ll pick you up.” He says, and you can’t help but smile. 

“That sounds lovely.” 

VIOLENCE STARTS HERE

Dinner doesn’t go as planned. 

Sean’s car rumbles as he waits for you to come out of your hotel room. He had offered to let you stay with him at his new house; he had a spare bedroom after all, but you had declined. Instead, you had told him you were a big kid and could take care of yourself. 

A shadow moved inside your hotel room on the second floor, and he looked up, a frown pulling his lips down. What was taking you so long? You hadn’t even responded to his text saying he had arrived. Should he call you? 

He pulls up your contact and is about to press the call button when you come exploding through the window in a rain of glass and chaos. 

Coincidentally, you land on the hood of his car, and his airbags deploy as you cave in the metal.

There’s someone on top of you, hands wrapped around your neck and squeezing like your life depended on it. He can see your hands going limp, and he darts from his car and draws his gun that he keeps with him at all times. 

“PORTLAND PD! DON’T MOVE!” He bellows, and the person jerks their head up to look at him, eyes wild and glowing yellow. 

A Mauvais Dentes.

The sabertoothed wesen leaped at him as he felt his face change in his woge. 

He fired. 

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The man fell, his woge rippling across his skin and retracting the fangs and fur into his body until he looked like a regular man again. 

Sean ran to your side, where you lay gasping on top of his car, pulling out his phone and dialing 911 as he went. 

“911, what’s the location of your emergency?” 

“This is Captain Sean Renard of the Portland Police Department. There’s a man who’s been killed and someone else who is gravely injured.” He started and rattled off your address, begging first responders to hurry because you looked terrible. 

You had been in the middle of getting ready—a blouse stained in blood and shredded to bits, trousers, and you weren’t wearing shoes. Your throat isn’t much better. Sean can see where the Mauvais Denetes had punctured your skin, and its oozing blood at a sluggish pace. Your woge ripples under your skin and the tar-black feathers retract into your face. Your beak disappears, and when you open your eyes, they’re glassy. 

“Stay with me, little bird, stay with me.” He says as he sheds his suit coat and tears it into strips to tie around your wound to hopefully staunch the bleeding. 

“Sean?” You gurgle, and he hushes you,

“Don’t speak. An ambulance is on the way.” He says, and you nod once, closing your eyes again, and he listens to your breathing. 

It doesn’t sound good. 

He only hopes that you make it to the hospital.

Time slows. The ambulance and police arrive after what feels like hours. Blood has stained Sean’s trousers, but he doesn’t care. All that matters is you. 

The first responders load you carefully into the ambulance and stop Sean before he can get in with you. 

“I’m riding with them.” He snarled, and the two workers looked at each other before one stepped aside and allowed him to sit beside you. He holds your hand until they hook you up to get your vitals. You open your eyes again and wheeze,

“Sean?” You gasp, and he holds your grasping fingers.

“I’m here, little bird.” He whispers, and his heart is broken as he hears you whimper. 

“Don’t leave me.” You whimper, and he stands as the ambulance rumbles into motion and presses a kiss to your forehead,

“Never.” He says and knows deep in his soul that he means it. 

Because he loves you too much to let you go.