Thinking about Grimm again,,,, this drawing is based on “I Can’t Trust The Fall” which takes place after the zombie episodes, but yknow what,,,,, it can probably take place at a bunch of different times in the show. Nick is constantly on the verge of collapse
The story is similar- expect for a lot of changes /joke
Minor ABO
In this AU, Nick is still a cop and Monroe is still a clock worker but with a dangerous secret. Nick is a Wesen of a strange nature- known to others as a Domesticated Wesen. Domesticated Wesen often don’t show signs of Wesen ancestry until later in life but in Nick’s case, he was a VERY late bloomer due to suppressants
(Read more)
Due to his mother (Wesen) messing around with a Grimm Hunter, the father (Grimm) dying to the Wesen Council and the mother going on a killing spree against them in revenge before vanishing - not before leaving her half- blood son to her full-blooded sister (Infamous Grimm Killer)
Marie hid Nick away as best she could, never allowing him out on fully moon nights and insisting he takes a medicine without ever disclosing what it did (scent blockers). He was lightly informed about the world they lived in but never fully allows to interact - until he ran off and joined the police force down the years , met and moved in with Juliette (human), met Rosalee (wesen) through her who continued to provide him with scent blockers, met Hank (Human) and Wu (Lycan(Aswang)) —
The first meeting with Monroe when inspecting the nearby area of the crime scene for new leads, Nick saw Monroe grabbing his mail and felt an itching and minor burning of his skin. Later on, Nick decides to sneak off-working-hours to scope out Monroe’s home for suspicious activity/behaviours only to get jumped by the Grimm
In the suddenness, Nick acts on instinct and woges out with Monroe immediately trying to deescalate the situation. Seeing a woged out Domesticated Blutbad, the Grimm invites Nick in for a brew
Knowing all the tricks, Monroe chats with Nick as they share a brew on his couch, sharing with Nick that he’s a RETIRED Grimm + a runaway from his family “business”
He spends some time talking with the younger man and answering all questions until Nick was finally relaxed enough to undo his appearance
(No Hulda, Marie, or Trailer)
With that Monroe sent Nick on his way only to be interrupted mid-dinner by him knocking on the door who was insistent on getting more answers for both life and the case he’s working on!
So, Monroe in his stupidness decides to take up mentoring the (cute) Blutbad by having Nick stick his head out the window and learn the differentiate scents till they can find their target —
“I can't guarantee what'll happen if I go any closer. It's too dangerous. I might be on your side. . . But there's nothing more I can do. I'm out of here—“ with this the retired Grimm leaves the scene
•
•
•
As time goes on, Nick continues to bother Monroe at his house and call him at all hours and in return Nick gets punished with tests to hone the Domestic Blutbad’s skills. Nicks entrusted with a special key to a trailer hidden in the woods filled to the brim with information about wesen and weapons and drugs to counter them
Warnings: Canon-compliant mentions of violence/death, drinking, set in season 1, Monroe deserves better
Your attention was ripped from your book as a frantic, heavy knocking filled the living room. Someone was banging against the front door, sounding desperate to get in. You weren’t sure anyone in this area really knew Monroe enough to need his help personally, so it must have been a true emergency.
You set your book aside, using a loose scrap of paper as a bookmark, and hurried to the door. You yanked it open, ready to usher in a woman scared out of her mind, or a child crying, or a man bloodied and bruised. Instead, you saw a woman with rich red hair and a black leather outfit standing on the porch. Her eyes flashed hotly at you and she looked you up and down. It was less like she was surveying the competition, and more like she was eyeing up a meal.
“Who are you?” she barked, which surprised you. Shouldn’t you be the one asking that question? You were, after all, the one who lived here.
“Who are you?” you shot back. “Why are you trying to break down my door?”
“Your door?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I believe this house belongs to Monroe.”
“How do you know Monroe?”
Her lips twisted into an annoyed smirk. “How do you know Monroe?”
“Babe?” came Monroe’s voice from down the hall. He came shuffling into the living room, using a towel to dry his hair. He was dressed in his bathrobe and looked like he was ready to take a nap, which he probably was. Both of you enjoyed a midafternoon nap together. “Who is it?”
You turned and stared at him, and you could feel the mystery woman’s eyes looking past you at your boyfriend. He looked at you expectantly, and you saw his eyes slowly move over your shoulder to the woman at the door. His expression twisted into a mix of shock and horror.
“Oh crap.”
“Hi, babe,” the woman sneered. “Long time, no see.”
“Angelina, what are you doing here?”
“I came by to see you, Monroe. You know that.” Her voice was low and seductive. It made your skin crawl.
You turned on your heels and set your jaw in anger. “Monroe–”
He hurried to you, placing one hand on your shoulder. “I’ll explain later. Just … give me a few minutes, okay?”
You turned a sharp look back at Angelina, who tauntingly wiggled her fingers in a goodbye wave at you. “You better have a good explanation for this.”
“I promise, I do. Just hang out in the bedroom for a while, okay?”
You snatched your book off the couch and felt your entire body burn with envy as Monroe approached the front door. The last thing you heard before you locked yourself in the bedroom was Angelina asking, “Can’t I come in and sit down? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”
Perhaps it was childish to be seething in the bedroom, contemplating locking the door to keep Monroe out (whenever he decided to show up and give his explanation, that is), but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t know Angelina, but you knew what she was. Blutbad. Just like Monroe. You could just sense it.
Although you were neither Grimm nor Wesen, you could sense when someone was. You hadn’t met any Grimms other than Nick, but you’d encountered a lot of Wesen. You never could see their true forms, but there was always something about them. You didn’t know if it was a pheromone, or just a way they held themselves. To you, they always felt different.
That was partially what attracted you to Monroe in the first place. He was pretty quiet and reserved, and he wasn’t like most of the other men his age in the area. He kept to himself and never seemed all that interested in hooking up with people he met at the bars, unlike your friends. While your friends would disappear with their boyfriends, or the guys they’d met that night, you were often the one left behind. Or, usually, you were the designated driver. It was during one of these nights when all of your friends had dispersed into the night with men on their arms, that you finally got up the courage to talk to Monroe. He’d been sitting at the bar alone, steadily drinking his beer. You’d seen him plenty of times, and you thought he’d seen you, too, but you couldn’t be sure. That night, though, you were going to make sure he noticed you.
It felt like it was ages ago that you’d said your first words to him. As soon as you sat next to him at the bar, you could sense something about him. You’d chalked it up to the atmosphere of the bar, the smell of liquor, but after you’d gotten his information and met him for a proper date the next day, you knew it was something else. It took a while before you discovered he was a Blutbad, and his friend Nick was a Grimm. They were worried their world would seem strange and frightening to you, but it wasn’t. You’d grown up on fairytales and had watched monster movies at every slumber party you’d ever attended. It almost felt like the universe was preparing you for this, for Monroe.
Monroe kept such a low profile and rarely associated with other Wesen, that you knew right away something was wrong with Angelina. Aside from giving off the vibe of being a Blutbad, she just screamed bad news. It was killing you to wait in the bedroom while Monroe and Angelina talked, but what else could you do? As much as you wanted to hear everything they were saying, you trusted and respected Monroe. If he asked you to wait here, that’s what you were going to do.
You were almost thankful that it took a while for Monroe to come back to the bedroom. It’d given you enough time to cool down and work through your anger. He knocked gently on the door before cracking it open, peering in. He looked almost sheepish, like he was worried you were going to throw something at him or curse him out. If he’d come in ten minutes earlier, you might have.
“Babe?”
“You can come in,” you said firmly but not unkindly.
Monroe sighed in relief and swung the door open. He sat on the bed beside you but kept his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“That you had to meet her. And meet her … that way.”
“Who was she?”
Monroe took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping. “She’s my ex-girlfriend. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
You’d never heard Monroe talking about ex-girlfriends before. You didn’t know he’d even dated before. It stung a little, knowing there were parts of his life that he hadn’t shared with you, parts that he had kept secret. You knew he had the right to keep parts of his life locked away, but you thought your relationship was good enough that he didn’t feel he had to.
“What did she want?”
Monroe let out a bitter laugh and muttered, “Me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean … she wanted to get back together with me.”
You swallowed hard, anxiously picking at the cuticle on your thumb. “What did you say?”
Monroe looked at you in disbelief. “What do you think I said? I told her no, that I’m with you.”
“And that took almost twenty minutes to say?”
Monroe studied your face for a long moment, his eyes almost unreadable. He scrubbed his face with his large palm and groaned. “Okay, she … she wanted a lot more than that.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Maybe not, but you have the right to know. She wanted …” Monroe took another heavy breath, but he couldn’t look at you anymore. He turned his eyes down to his hands, staring at his calloused palms. “She wanted me back, and not just as her boyfriend. She wanted me to embrace being a Blutbad. She wanted … She wanted me to fang out again. To go on the hunt. To kill.”
Your heart twisted in your chest. You wanted to reach out and grab Monroe’s hand to comfort him, to let him know you were there, but you weren’t sure if that’s what he needed. Monroe had given up that life long before he ever met you, but you often wondered if you had any influence in his choice to stay “sober,” as he called it. He wasn’t abstaining from his instincts simply because he was afraid you’d discover what he truly was, because you already knew what he was. Did he keep from running in the woods and killing animals – people – other Wesen – because he didn’t want to disappoint you? Or did he feel like you were holding him back?
You finally decided to reach out and grab his hand. You laced your fingers with his and squeezed tight. “Why would she want that?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess because she thinks I’m easier to convince? Because I’m the only Blutbad around that doesn’t have her on my hitlist? She could just be screwing with me, just seeing if she can undo all my progress. I never was able to figure out what goes on in that head of hers.”
You steadied yourself before asking the question that was beginning to burn a hole in your chest. “Monroe … what do you want?”
He looked at you, eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“I mean … do you want to keep living like this? Abstaining from the hunt? Or do you want to join her? Do you want to act like a Blutbad again?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
“Because, I need to know where your mind’s at, where your heart’s at. If you want to … to join her, to go out and kill, then … then you should do that. I don’t want to hold you back. I don’t want to make you into something you’re not.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not a Wesen, Monroe. I’m not even a Grimm. I’m nothing. I just … I don’t know what I am. I can sense when people are different, but I can’t do anything with that information. And I can never be like you. I can never fang out or go hunting or … or kill. I’ll never be able to relate to you the way Angelina can. I can only love you like a human could, and I don’t know if that’s enough.”
Monroe silently reached out with his free hand and brushed tears off of your cheeks. He cupped your chin between his fingers and tilted your head up until you were staring into his eyes. His eyes were filled with unshed tears and his voice wavered when he spoke.
“Don’t you ever say that about yourself again, do you understand? I don’t want to hear you talk bad about yourself – ever. You’re not nothing. You’re everything. Okay? I don’t want to go hunting or to kill things. I don’t! I mean, no offense, but I didn’t stop doing those things for you, you know? I stopped before I even met you. But it feels like meeting you was the reward I got for stopping that part of myself.”
“Monroe–”
“No, just listen to me. It’s true, Angelina may get me on a level that you never can, because she and I are Blutbaden, but … Angelina only knows the old me. She doesn’t know the me that you know. And I don’t want her to, because I don’t want her in my life anymore. She doesn’t want what’s best for me. Even when we were together, it always felt like her goal was to try to get me killed. I … I couldn’t live like that. And I told her that when she was here. I told her that the Monroe she was looking for didn’t exist anymore, and that she wasn’t welcome back here.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. Or else she’d keep coming back and keep coming back until I gave in or …” He shook his head. “I don’t want to think about it. But just know that I’m done with that part of my life. Some days, I’ll admit, it’s hard to fight it. It’s hard to not join the others and act on my instincts, but … I think about what I’d be giving up, what I’d lose. My progress, my dignity, you.” Monroe leaned forward and placed a firm kiss on your lips. “I’m not going to lose you.”
You pulled your hand free from his and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hard. He grabbed your waist and helped you slide onto his lap. Your tears peppered his cheeks as you kissed him all over his face, your laughter mixed with soft cries.
“I love you, Monroe. I promise that you’re never going to lose me.”
“I promise you’re not going to lose me. I love you, too, babe.” He planted his hands on your hips and kept you on his lap. “You ready for a nap now? I know crying takes a lot out of you.”
You shook your head. “Not yet.”
“No? Oh.” Monroe laughed and kissed you deeply again. “We need to do our make up ritual, don’t we?”
“Yes.”
Monroe grinned and hoisted you up, turning around to toss you onto the bed. He climbed on top of you and planted kisses all along your neck and face. “I promise to make it up to you, over and over and over again. As many times as it takes. And then some.”
I'm such a nadalind fan, love a good slow burn enemies to lovers! I actually don't like a lot of modern TV relationships but I was so happily surprised with nadalind!! Monroe and Rosalie are also amazing!!
Do you know what people do to things they can't explain? I don't want my house torched, man. And I don't want crosses burned at my front yard. I'm just saying, this is how legends end up killing innocent people.
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!")
