Father Grimm x Reader
I hope you have a wonderful day and remember to eat well and drink enough water <3
The sound of birds lulled Grimm further into the park, his destination unknown but clear in his head.
Somewhere quiet, but efficient. Somewhere he could finish his creation.
Further he went, past trees and the rubble when at last, he'd found what he'd been looking for.
A cherry tree stood high and proud besides a small river that lazily streamed down the valley.
But something he noticed was a person, sitting in front of a canvas besides the tall cherry tree.
They seemed to be enraptured in their canvas, their work seemingly all that they cared about. They did their best to capture the essence of the river and the large forest ahead.
Slowly, he approached them, the man and the person who was still entranced with their canvas.
Sitting down by the tree, the man pulled out his belongings, before letting his head fall back against the tree trunk.
Finally, the person noticed the man, turning their head to look at him. The corners of their lips tugged upwards into a small, loving smile.
Though their eyes were deep and full of secrets, hidden from all.
The males eyes though, were dull but full of secrets as well.
They didn't seem to have much in common, the painter and the poet, but the secrets they hid were both so deep, so sad and so dark.
The two caught each other's eyes, but the male instantly looked down at his notebook. His head was full of words, jumbled and begging to be let out onto this small piece of paper.
He began to scribble things down on the paper. Not things he had originally thought of writing, but something different.
The person though, continued to look at him. The extent detail on his mask drew them in, and they couldn't help themselves but to begin to grab their paint, knowing what to make with the empty canvas in front of them.
Building up the courage to talk to the person sitting by the empty canvas, who seemed to have decided on what to do, the male looked up from the words that were sloppily written down on the paper, being that he'd written them in a rush. He'd fix them later.
"This place is quiet. I can see why you chose to be here." He said, grabbing the painters attention.
They looked to their left, dumbfounded that he'd be interested in talking to them, but nodded nonetheless.
"Yes, it is rather peaceful here. It gets me out of my tough situation at home." They said, looking down at the paint tube they held onto.
The poet, understanding their struggles, smiled comfortingly.
"Home isn't always a place you can feel safe and comfortable. Some places like this can be more of a home then the one you leave behind." The poet said, tapping his pencil against the paper.
The painter smiled at that, nodding slowly. "You have quite a way with words." They said, and the poet chuckled, feeling butterflies in his stomach.
This feeling was overwhelming him, making him want to faint.
"Thank you. I do try." He said softly, making it the painters turn to laugh quietly.
A long, quiet and comfortable silence was shared between them, before Grimm looked up at the painters canvas. They had decided on painting the lake, then the cherry tree. He wondered if they would paint him soon.
He shook that thought out of his head, before looking back up at the canvas.
"You though, have quite a way to catch an atmosphere on an canvas." He said, bringing the past conversation back. The painter looked up, a hint of pink covering their cheeks.
"Well thank you, I do try." They said, repeating the poets words, and they both laughed.
They then went quiet, the silence between them comfortable like it was before.
"I'm (Y/N)." The painter said after a while.
The poet looked down at his paper, quickly writing down their name.
It may seem creepy, but he had to keep it in his memory.
He liked back up at the painter, smiling.
"(Y/N)." He said the name quietly, it rolling off his tongue. "My name is Grimm. It's very nice to meet you, (Y/N)."
They went back to their comfortable silence. The poet continued writing down into his notebook, letting the rest of the words onto the striped paper.
The sun slowly started to set, and the longer they stayed, the darker and colder it got. The painter sat up when it was completely dark out, albeit begrudgingly, wanting to spend more time with the writer.
"It was really nice meeting you, Grimm, but I should probably take my leave. I hope we meet again soon." The painter said, grabbing their canvas before anyone could see it.
The writer looked up, and frowned, although it was hidden because did his mask. "Yes, of course. Hopefully we will see each other again."
The painter gave the writer a respectful nod, before grabbing their stool and heading back into the forest, away from the quiet, calm riverbank and cherry tree, which towered over the writer, who continued to sit still.
At home, the painter had propped up their canvas, and grinned at their creation.
Pride filled them, and they left their canvas there to dry properly.
The painting they'd made was beautiful. It gave off almost a blurred effect, making it mysterious but pretty.
There was the river, which flowed almost like an elegant dress, and the cherry tree, which the cherry pink pedals were falling down, and the green grass, which moved slightly in the wind, and then there was the man, sitting by the cherry tree, looking down into his book. He was the most thing they put the most detail to on the canvas, especially his mask.
Even the man himself had lost himself in his book, making a whole poem dedicated to you, the painter. Although, it never mentioned your name. He'd have to be to naïve to do that. Someone might come and try to harm you. He couldn't risk that. He had to much of an interest in you.
Such an odd bunch of two, the painter and the poet.
-<3
