Summary: Celebrating a very Happy Halloween with your loving Blutbad boyfriend.
-
“Monroe-?”
You awoke early to the sounds of shuffling downstairs, making your way down to see that his decorating frenzy for Halloween multiplied over night, there's spider webs and ghouls and goblins everywhere, you nearly trip on a pumpkin on your way down… All the while he's grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, sticking an adorable ghost shaped mug in your hand full of your favorite breakfast beverage.
“It's amazing, right? I found some more things in storage. Did you know that this decoration is close to 100 years old-”
As usual he goes off on a rambling spree as you watch him with loving eyes, giving you a free history lesson on all the decor within your shared living space, your soft smile lighting up his world like it always does. Little does he know the effect his endless enthusiasm has on you, cutting him off with a kiss, trailing your hand up his chest as you set your mug aside. He was surprised at first but quickly melts into it, pulling you into his arms, kiss breaking after only a moment.
“I love it… And I want to know all about it - later. Right now I want you.”
You certainly caught him off guard as it takes him a second to process, once he does though he's swiftly scooping you up off your feet and toting you upstairs, more than glad to feed the beast you woke up with this morning.
“If I knew it'd have this effect on you I would've brought out all my old history books.”
He teased slightly as he plopped you onto the bed, though you're well aware he's not actually kidding - he would in fact break out history books for foreplay if you were into it. Stripping one another of your clothes he climbs atop you, settling between your thighs and kissing down your neck, beard rubbing pleasantly at your skin in the process. In the heat of the moment he woges, lips meet yours and body shifting to slip inside you, pushing in carefully so you adjust - setting a nice and steady pace, a low little growl leaving him. He howls when you grab at his hair, feeling feral again for a brief moment as his hands dig into the bedding, picking up the pace just a bit. He rocks the whole bed as he makes love to you like an - for lack of a better word - animal, forehead meeting yours while buried deep. He goes until you both come undone, woge wearing off as he slowly slides out of you, flopping down at your side - sweaty and breathing heavy.
“Wow…”
“Just wow?”
“No such thing as ‘just wow’.”
He leans over and kisses your cheek before dragging himself out of bed, intent on running a bath so you two can get cleaned up for the day ahead.
“How about some pumpkin shaped pancakes this morning?”
He smiles over his shoulder at you, knowing your love of cutely shaped things, happy to see you light up.
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• Though he knows you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, he still makes sure to check up on you wherever the troupe is summoned.
• They're not the biggest fan of affection, but he will occasionally hold your hand or arm in public spaces. he says its to make sure you don't get lost (but he's lying).
• He is well aware that you like to wander, considering all the times he's had to send someone to get you out of Kingdom's edge.
• Grimmchild tried to set you on fire once. whether it was because they didn't like you or something else, you didn't know.
• He was upset after that.
• If you play an instrument, he will absolutely sit down and just watch you play. it's mesmerizing to them.
• Grimm's a cuddlebug (pun intended), and loves to snuggle up with you after a long day.
• Despite being the leader of a literal troupe of nightmares, y'all like to dogpile sometimes.
• Brumm started the tradition of doing so when Grimm accidentally launched him and he landed on Divine, much to her dismay.
• After the two of you argue, the troupe leader cannot stand when you distance yourself from him. He knows you both messed up, but it still hurt.
• It had been years since The Grimm Troupe was last summoned. And by a tiny vessel no less. He would be devastated if he found out you died.
• Grimm would mourn you for centuries if he could.
You had a lot of questions when you woke up in your bed, and there was some kind of creature with ears and a tail standing in front of you and staring at you intently, although his(?) eyes were not visible, but its head was definitely pointed in your direction and it felt like it was burning through your soul.
"Oh~ Keeper, I've been waiting to meet you for so long, and you're reacting like this, it hurts me."
He was theatrically offended, but he came a little closer to your bed. You sat up in bed and moved closer to the wall, you didn't know who he was or what, and what he wanted. And if he was the one who moved you from that ill-fated basement in the abandoned building to your bed, then how did he even know where you live?.
"Come on Keeper, I can see how the gears are turning in your head, ask questions~"
"What are you?"
"Well..Consider me an evil spirit~"
He stuck out his tongue and his tail wagged merrily.
"I am also the guardian of the grimoire, but I kept it and protected it only for you, Keeper."
"Why do you call me that?"
He slowly and deliberately stood by your bed and knelt down, putting his hands on the edge of the bed and leaning his head on them. His sly grin gave you goosebumps.
"What should I call you? You're the Keeper, that's all. I always knew that sooner or later you would show up, and now you came to my hands and got a mark! You are my Keeper~"
"Wh– What mark..."
He stood up abruptly without saying anything and, despite the fact that you were pressed against the wall, pulled you towards him with a jerk. Still without breaking the silence, he dragged you to the mirror and stood behind you. He pulled your shirt off your shoulder and took a small mirror in his hand and reflected what was on your shoulder.
It was some kind of pattern that looked a little like an eye, but instead of a pupil it had a star.
And only then did you notice a slight pain in your shoulder.
"I've been waiting for you for so long~"
He smiled with all his mouth exposing his sharp teeth and put his arm around your waist with one hand, burying his face in your shoulder where the mark was.
And standing there in silence, thinking about everything that was happening, you saw that damn book that he called grimoire lying on your desk...
I write in Russian and use a translator. If you find any errors, please let me know about it.
Т/И - your name (Y/N)
Т/Ф - your last name (Y/L/N)
____
Imagine that you were Nick's girlfriend and you were kidnapped to influence him.
***
Nick burst into the basement with a gun in his hand, as if he were being chased by a pack of rabid Blutbads. Hank was right behind him. Nick stopped in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room. You nodded your head slightly to the back, and they rushed in. There were sounds of fighting, and a few minutes later, Nick returned, breathing heavily, with a bleeding cut above his right eyebrow. He tore the tape off your mouth, and you winced.
"Hi," you whispered.
Nick examined you carefully for any injuries.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, raising an eyebrow.
"A few bruises and scratches don't count," you smiled weakly, joking, but judging by Nick's darkened gaze and frowning face, he didn't think so. "I'm fine. I was a little scared and got a few scratches, as I said."
He clearly didn't believe that was all, and he examined you again. Captain Renard and other police officers arrived, and they dragged several men out of the basement. You both watched as they were led outside.
"Who are they?" you asked softly.
Nick looked at you.
"The Rissfleich," he explained. "And the Quick-Footed."
You nodded. Nick had given you a copy of the Grimms diaries, so you could imagine who they were.
He kissed your hair, closing his eyes for a moment, and exhaled.
"I was so scared," he admitted in a low voice.
You leaned into him, and he carefully embraced you and lifted you into his arms, trying not to hurt you, as you might downplay your injuries to keep him from worrying.
"I'm really fine," you whispered, resting your head against his chest.
Nick carried you outside, and for a moment, the flashing lights of the police siren blinded you, but then you noticed an ambulance with the same flashing lights, and Nick carried you over to it. He helped you get inside, and the paramedics immediately surrounded you, trying to help you. They asked you some questions, and you answered them automatically, too tired to do anything but want to curl up in bed and sleep for two or three days without waking up, so Nick took over, telling them everything he knew from your brief conversation and what he saw in the house, as a detective, not as a concerned boyfriend.
The paramedics loaded you into the ambulance, and you looked at Nick.
"I'll be right behind you," Nick promised, gently kissing your forehead.
Hank and Captain Renard approached him, and from the brief conversation, they convinced him to ride with you in the ambulance, so he got in and sat next to you, holding your hand in his.
The ambulance doors closed, and the last thing you saw was Hank getting into the police car.
"Hank will be here later," Nick said softly, gently stroking your hair. "He and the captain will go to the station and then to the hospital. We need to get your statement. Officially."
You nodded slightly.
"Okay. I can do this".
The ambulance pulled away, and you closed your eyes. You felt so tired and exhausted that you didn't realize you had fallen asleep.
***
You woke up to the muffled hum of the lights above you, still feeling tired. You tried to sit up, but a warm, gentle hand on your shoulder gently stopped you. You turned your head slightly.
"Don't rush," Nick said quietly. His voice was hoarse from exhaustion, but there was genuine relief in his eyes. "The doctors said you needed rest. You had a mild concussion and a few bruises, just like you said, but you were also stressed and dehydrated. You've been asleep for almost six hours."
You smiled weakly. Nick was sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair next to your bed, his shirt — a completely different one — was wrinkled, his collar was unbuttoned, and there was a fresh band-aid on his right brow. He still hadn't let go of your hand.
"How long have you been here?" you whispered, tracing a finger along the back of his hand.
"The nurses and Captain Renard kicked me out to get some coffee, and they made me change my clothes," he chuckled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Then I came back. I couldn't leave you alone."
The door to the room opened quietly, and Hank appeared with two cups of coffee and a paper bag. His face expressed a familiar mix of professional composure and genuine concern.
"I'm glad to see you're awake," he said, placing the coffee on the bedside table. "Renard has already interrogated those guys. They were working for a European middleman. They thought they could use you as leverage to get Nick to cover their deals. It was a stupid plan, but it worked until we intervened."
Nick squeezed your fingers slightly.
"It won't happen again," he said firmly, looking directly into your eyes. "I'll search every corner of this city, but I won't let anyone hurt you again."
You felt a heavy lump in your throat, but you nodded. In a world where creatures no one but the Grimm had ever seen lurked around every corner, his words were the only support you needed.
"I know," you replied, closing your eyes again. "But next time, let's really do without the kidnappings, okay?"
Nick laughed, a quiet, short burst of sound, but it was genuine. He leaned down and kissed your temple gently, careful not to disturb the IV in your arm.
"Deal."
Outside the hospital window, dusk was giving way to the neon lights of Portland's nightlife. You finally allowed yourself to relax, knowing that the worst was over. And you finally let yourself relax, knowing that the worst was over, and that there's someone by your side who is ready to stand between you and any darkness in this world.
Hi friend! I LOVE Grimm and I’m so excited that you write for it! Is there any chance you’d be willing to write a platonic Sean Renard x reader who’s the secret child of a wesen and a grimm, so they learned to protect themselves and both sides of their heritage? And maybe he’s very teasing about it, though they know he really cares and wants them to be safe? If that’s too much or just not your vibe, that’s totally okay I just wanted to put it out there. Thank you so much for even looking at this and I hope you have a wonderful day!!
You weren’t much to look at. You were a baby, after all. At little more than six months old, you babbled and squealed when introduced to new people. You looked around at the world with eyes wide with wonder and awe.
His mother nudged him forward, and Sean realized that the line to meet the new child in the royal family had moved forward. The news of your birth had made waves in the royal family, especially after your lineage had been revealed. The child of a wesen and a Grimm? That was unheard of! Sean couldn’t think of a single case of a child with those parents being born.
Soon, it was his and his mother’s turn. He stepped forward, suddenly unsure if he should even be here. Even at five years old, he was acutely aware of his own heritage and social standing in the world, especially among those in the royal families. But his mother seemed okay to be there, so maybe he should be too?
Your mother looked at him with exhausted eyes. It must have been tiring to parade your child around like that.
“Would you like to see them?” She whispered, and Sean looked up at his mother, who smiled encouragingly.
“Go on, Sean, it’s alright.” She said softly, and he nodded before taking a step forward to finally meet the child that had been causing all the hubbub in the palace walls.
You were a small, weak little thing. Sean spotted soft curls of hair growing from under your cap, and your eyes couldn’t quite decide on what color they wanted to be.
What wesen were you?
He got his answer not even a second later when the rattle you held tightly in your fist floated above your head in soft, lackadaisical circles. Gasps arose from the crowd, and your mother looked positively delighted. It only took Sean a moment to connect the dots.
“Are they like me?” He whispers to his mother, who nods happily.
“Indeed they are, Sean.” She whispers back, and he smiles down at you, extending a finger that you latch onto and stick in your mouth. His smile wavers at your gums gumming his finger and the saliva that coats his hand as it drools from your mouth.
But he feels like he can’t pull away. His mother had always instilled in him a sense of manners and it seems just plain rude to just yank his finger away when you seem so happy. Your mother is still delighted at the sign of your wesen side making an appearance so early on in your life. She was a hexenbiest if he remembered right. That meant your father was a Grimm? Where was he?
“They like you.” Your mother whispered, and he grinned, finally getting his finger back from your slobbery clutches.
“I like them too.” He replies awkwardly, and she laughs,
“Protect them, will you? It’s a tough world out there, and they could use a little help.” Sean’s grin widens,
“I’ll protect them!”
The sun was out, and there was not a cloud in the sky. A gentle breeze swept the castle grounds of the royal palace in Vienna. Now twelve years old, Sean sits under the large maple tree at the edge of the palace walls. The book in front of him does little to keep his attention. Because all he can think about is that his mother told him they were leaving Vienna.
Supposedly for his safety.
Something about assassination attempts.
He wasn’t entirely sure, but he wasn’t all that happy about it.
All of a sudden, Sean heard a ‘snick,’ and a lock of his own hair fell into his lap. He scowled, shut his book, and turned to look around the side of the tree where you were giggling. A pair of scissors circled your head like a twisted version of a halo. Your eyes glowed a vibrant pink but died when the scissors fell into your lap.
At seven years old, you were a menace, especially since you had taken to him like a duck to water. You followed him around like he was the best thing since sliced bread. He often suffered the brunt of your pranks and jokes.
“Got ya!” You cheered but ducked with a shriek when Sean scooped up a handful of dirt and grass and hurled it your way. It sprinkled mud along your back but, ultimately, didn’t hit you.
“Don’t you have lessons to attend?” He asked, mildly exasperated by your little stint as a barber. You popped back up into a sitting position by him and leaned on his shoulder.
“‘Course I do! But ‘m skippin’!” You chirp, and he rolls his eyes,
“It’s “I’m skipping.”” He corrects, and you just stick your tongue out at him.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re worse than my governess.” You mumble and scoot until you’re lying down with your head in his lap.
Now that you aren’t actively cutting his hair off, you seem tired and stressed. As the only Grimm hybrid he knew of, you were forced to age beyond your years. Forced to grow up too quickly. Forced to do awful, terrible things from a young age.
You never told him what the Royal family made you do. But he could guess.
And he didn’t like it.
Because it made him feel like he wasn’t protecting you well enough.
A finger poked his nose, and he blinked in surprise. You were grinning up at him and raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“You’re thinkin’ too hard.” You tease him, and he just huffs but offers you a smile nonetheless.
You end up tapping the top of his book that lies beside him.
“Read to me?” You ask, and he rolls his eyes but relents without too much trouble. He reads to you under the tree that day. You aren’t one to care for reading, what with you being much more interested in horseback riding and combat. But you always listened when he read aloud. It was one of the unspoken parts of your friendship.
“Sean!” His mother’s voice comes, and he stops mid-sentence. You open your eyes where you had been dozing and look up at him quizzically. But Sean isn’t looking at you. He’s staring at his mother. She beckons him, and he realizes what she wants.
They’re leaving.
Now.
He gently moves you off his lap and stands, handing you his book.
“Take care of that for me, will you? I’ll be back for it.” He promises, and you simply frown up at him where you’re kneeling in the grass.
“What’s going on? You never leave before you finish the book!” You plead, and he shrugs,
“My mom needs to talk to me about something.” He lies smoothly. Lying was his second language at that point. Well… other than English… And French... And Russian…
Oh, you get the point.
But he leaves you behind that day, book clutched in your lap and big eyes watching with a confused expression.
He just wishes he was able to say goodbye before leaving Vienna for good.
It’s nearly three and a half decades before Sean sees you again.
He’s watching Kelly and Diana while Adalind and Nick have a date night with Monroe and Rosalee before she goes into labor. But then there’s a knock on his door. He frowns, pauses the book he was reading to the two young children, and goes to answer it. He checks his phone on the way, but there’s no text from Adalind or Nick to signify they are on their way to pick up the kids.
So who is it?
He opens the door and doesn’t recognize you at first. The last time he had seen you, you were seven.
“Hello, Sean,” You say with a hesitant smile, and all his memories come rushing back. He takes a step forward and sweeps you up in a hug. He can feel you grin against his shoulder and your arms wrap around his waist in a tight return embrace. He pulls back and looks at you. You had grown up. He told you as such, and you laugh loudly,
“So did you! Look at you! You’re a giant!” You tease, and he simply smiles.
“Daddy?” Diana’s voice. He turns to see his daughter standing in the doorway with a frown. You peek your head around his shoulder and smile at the little tyke. Her eyes glow a vibrant violet, and he can see her woge rippling under the skin. He doesn’t have to look at you to know the same is happening with you.
“This is one of my friends from when I was young.” He says, and you crouch down and extend a hand, offering your name in a friendly greeting.
Diana stares at your hand for a moment before offering her own tiny hand and her name.
“You’re like me.” She says, and you smile brightly,
“I’m part wesen, yes. But I’m also part Grimm.” You say, and her eyes widen with wonder,
“So you’re like my brother!” She chirps, and you look back up at Sean from your spot on the floor.
“How many kids do you have?” You ask, genuinely curious. Sean closes the front door and ushers you both back into the front room, where Kelly is playing with a teething toy while on his belly.
“Diana is the only one that’s mine. Her brother has a different father.” He explains quickly, and you nod, though you are immediately smitten with the baby on the floor. You coo and babble at him, and he starts wailing with laughter. Sean sends a text to Adalind and Nick, explaining the situation so they aren’t surprised by your appearance when they return.
You sit beside Sean on the couch while Diana entertains her little brother with floating colorful toys above his head. You lean against Sean’s shoulder like you had so many years ago.
“Read to us?” You say and offer him a worn old book that he recognizes.
It was the book he told you to look after when he was still in Vienna. He chuckles, takes the book gently, and opens it. The scent of worn paper and old ink makes his heart sing as he clears his throat and begins to read.
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Gracie Abrams Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Nick Burkhardt - Nick Burkhardt Imagine [Grimm]
Title: Gracie Abrams Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Nick Burkhardt
Pairing: Nick Burkhardt X Reader
Word Count: 2,197 words
Warning(s): brief mention of past trauma (non-specific), fear of commitment, fear of death/injury, Wesen racism
Summary: Three songs by Gracie Abrams that would describe a relationship with Nick Burkhardt.
Author's Note: I hope this will somewhat make up for the fact that I haven't been able to do a writing challenge for Gracie's newest album.
I could've put Tough Love in here to talk about (Y/n) and Monroe, but I only do three at a time, y'know?
---------------------------
Let It Happen
No, I know
I'm a walking contradiction and it shows
Got a history of being in control
I'm aware that I could end up here alone
-- third person p.o.v --
Usually when Nick found himself sitting in Monroe's house, it was to find out the truth about some kind of Wesen that was attacking people.
This conversation was something different entirely. Somehow less serious but more tense. A feeling that Nick would be happy to never experience again.
Monroe called him over, saying that they needed to talk about something important. There wasn't much more said on the phone except for the preface that the talk was going to be focused on (Y/n), which was enough to get Nick to go over as fast as possible.
Monroe and Nick sat at Monroe's table for what felt like hours. A strange silence settled over them. For Nick, it was tense. He was worried that (Y/n) had gotten hurt or that he had done something to upset them. For Monroe, it was awkward. He wasn't sure that this conversation was his to have but felt like he should. He saw (Y/n) as a sibling and siblings were supposed to protect each other.
Monroe nervously cleared his throat before finally speaking up, "I... I have a question to ask."
"Okay," Nick replied, feeling his leg shaking as he tried to stop overthinking how this conversation was going to go.
"And it might be a weird question," Monroe added. "I don't even know if it's my business and you don't need to tell me anything. I would like if you did because the rest of the conversation kinda relies on that-"
"Monroe," Nick cut him off. "What is it?"
"Do you... have feelings for (Y/n)?"
There was a brief moment where it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. So much for thinking he had been subtle. "Uh, yeah. Lucky guess."
"Well... it was Rosalee's guess more than mine," Monroe admitted.
"Great, so everyone just knows?"
"I didn't say that. The two of us had been talking about it and I got worried."
"Worried?" Nick could've scoffed. "You don't think that I'd do something-"
"No, no, of course not." Monroe shook his head. "It's just that I've (Y/n) for a while now. They've been through... a lot."
"Okay." Nick nodded slowly.
"They don't trust a lot of people. I mean, even getting them to trust me was a long process. I mean, seriously, years. But... that's not important right now. What is important is that I care about them. I've seen them get through a lot of crap and I want to see them happy. They deserve it.
"And I can see it when you two talk sometimes. They want... something. Maybe it's just to open up. Maybe it's something more. I'm not sure, but I can see it. I just..."
"What," Nick asked.
"I don't want you to get (Y/n) to trust you just for something to happen that'll screw that up."
"Monroe," Nick leaned forward on the table. "I care about (Y/n) a lot. I know that you do too. I don't know what I'm gonna do. I don't know how they feel yet or if it would be safe. But I promise, if something happens, I'll do everything in my power to make sure that I never let them down."
"Thank you."
"There's nothing to thank me for-"
Monroe held his hand up. "You gave me a little peace of mind... that's enough."
There was a pause between them before Nick spoke up again, "So, when do I get threatened that you'll kill me if I hurt them?"
"Was that not implied," Monroe asked. He woged quickly.
"Message received."
The Blue
You came out of the blue like that
I never could've seen you coming
I think you're everything I've wanted
Rosalee's shop was a place of comfort. Maybe it was because it was more often filled with the few people that I considered to be my friends. Or maybe it was simply because it catered mostly to Wesen.
No matter what the reason. It felt natural to find my way there after I had almost been killed.
"How are you feeling," Rosalee asked as she handed me a mug of tea.
"Fine," I muttered. "I... I don't know if it's really hit me yet."
"That's understandable," she replied. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need. Let me know if you need me, okay? I'll just be out front."
"Thank you," I said. "For all of this."
"You're welcome." she grinned.
As she turned around to walk to the front, I heard the bell above the door ringing. A few seconds later, Nick was rushing into the room.
"Are you okay," he asked. "I told you to get checked by the paramedics."
"I'm fine," I insisted. "It was just a little shock. Those assholes didn't get a chance to hurt me. How did you even find out I was here?"
"It doesn't matter-"
"Did Rosalee call you?"
"(Y/n), it doesn't matter," he said. "You were almost killed."
"They wish that they could get that close."
He ran his hands over his face.
"Nick, look at me." I stood up, walking over to him. "I'm fine. Might have a bruise or two but other than that, I'm perfectly fine. I'm healthy and safe."
I watched his eyes scan over me.
"You've been in much worse shape than I am right now." I shrugged.
I tensed when he stepped forward and hugged me. My face felt warm. My thoughts were going at a hundred miles an hour. I had spent a long time avoiding my feelings and a major part of that was avoiding any physical touch when I could. I awkwardly hugged him back.
"I'm happy that you're okay," he mumbled. I closed my eyes for a moment.
"Thanks," I replied before abruptly stepping back.
I felt like I could've been knocked over by how he was looking at me. There was just so much worry and care. I hadn't seen that look in a very long time. Even then, it wasn't nearly as intense as this.
I don't know what came over me. I don't think that I even thought about my actions before I had committed to them. All I knew was that one moment I was looking at Nick and the next moment I was leaning forward and kissing him.
I was going to pull away a second after I had done it. But I couldn't before Nick had the chance to pull me closer to him.
I had never experienced a time where something felt so tense yet so correct. Like this was going to happen no matter what. A question of when instead of if. It was all depending on how long it took me to do something about it.
Nick pulled back a few moments later, slowly grinning at me.
It felt like it took ages for my mind to catch up to what had happened.
"Sorry," I mumbled, not fully convinced that I had caught my breath. "I... I don't know what came over me-"
"Don't apologize," he cut me off. "I'm glad that you did."
"Oh," I replied, slowly nodding. "I... I really like you, Nick."
"I'd be a bit confused if you didn't."
I felt my face warm up again as I looked away from him. "I'm telling you how I feel about you and you're being a smartass."
He chuckled. "I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you."
"How do you plan to do that?"
"Over dinner. If you'd like."
I grinned. "That sounds nice."
He leaned forward and kissed me again. Suddenly, I felt like I was completely certain of a choice that I had made.
The Bottom
You could do better
You should walk out
It's now or never
I took the most that you could offer
I'm gonna drag you right down to the bottom
I let out a huff as I tossed the unopened envelope on the counter.
All it took was the lack of information on the outside for me to know what it was. I was simply too tired to deal with it today.
"That sigh rattled the house."
I jumped when I heard Nick's voice. "Holy shit!"
He held his hands up. "Sorry, sorry! Didn't mean to spook you."
"Why aren't you at work? It's 2 in the afternoon."
"Case got solved this morning, took the rest of the day off," he said simply. "What was that sigh about?"
"Nothing important," I replied.
"It's not that unmarked envelope?"
I raised an eyebrow at him.
"What? I'm a detective, I see things." he shrugged. "Let me see it."
"Nick-"
He reached over and grabbed it before I had a chance to stop him. If I didn't trust him so much, I would have been a little bit quicker.
I watched his face change from when he opened the letter to when he finished reading it. It wasn't a long note. None of them had been. They were only ever a few lines about the purity of Wesen and how sorry I would be if I didn't listen to them. At first, they churned my stomach, but after a while, they just became a nuisance. Whoever was giving them to me was a coward anyway; they never fulfilled their threats.
"Is this the first note that you've gotten like this," Nick asked after a moment.
"No," I admitted. "I've gotten a few of them. I just throw them out."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why worry you with them? Whoever sent them hasn't actually done anything besides send the notes. Not much we could do about it."
"I could have," he argued. "I'm a cop. I could've... I could've tried to do something."
There was a long pause. I watched Nick's eyes scan over the note over and over again. As if he was looking for the identity of the writer to just pop out at him. I sighed, snatching it from his hands. I did what I had done with the rest of those notes: threw it in the trash to never be looked at again.
"Maybe you should go," Nick muttered.
"What?"
"I think that you should go," he repeated.
"Go where?"
"I think it would be for the best if we separated," he explained.
I scoffed. "Bullshit!"
"(Y/n)..."
"Nick, I'm not going to leave because of a few vague threats-"
"And what happens when I get you killed?" he cut me off. I furrowed my eyebrows. "We've... We've seen what's happening with Rosalee and Monroe. Rosalee had a brick thrown through the shop window! And that's just because they're two different kinds of Wesen! Imagine what they would do to someone who's with a Grimm!"
I ran my hands over my face. I understood that he was scared but this all seemed crazy.
"I... I won't be the reason that you get hurt. I'm already putting you in enough danger because of the keys and the royals and all of the other crap that comes with this life. And maybe it's too late to protect you from that. Maybe they know too much about you already and that's my fault. But this... I could protect you fully from this if I let you go."
"Nick..." I stepped forward. "If... If you want me to go, then I will. But only if you want me to. I'm not going to leave you just because some idiots think that I should be with 'my own kind'. I... I love you, Nick. I'm not going to let someone chase me away from that."
He didn't respond for a moment. He just stared at me. As if he was testing me. Testing how long I would stand there without him saying whether or not he wanted me there.
"Tell me what you want-"
My words were cut short by him pulling me forward and kissing me. I froze for a moment before touching the sides of his face. He pulled back a few seconds later, not moving very far away from me. My arms moved around his neck.
"I don't want you to leave," he muttered to me.
"Good," I replied. "I didn't want to leave. Plus, I'm pretty sure that I'd be safer with you than on my own."
He leaned his forehead against mine, closing his eyes.
"We'll be okay," I almost whispered. "No matter what."
He grinned at me as his eyes opened again.
"I don't care what danger I'm in when I'm with you," I promised. "I just care that I'm with you."
"I'm sorry. God, I'm an idiot."
"Sometimes." I nodded. I kissed his cheek. "But that's okay."
"Thanks," he mumbled sarcastically before pulling into a hug.
I closed my eyes, hiding my face in his shoulder.
"I love you too," he muttered. As if he was keeping it a secret from someone even though we were the only people in the house. "Didn't say it earlier."
I smiled to myself. I had never doubted that for a second.
Summary: You go to Nick's after getting attacked Wesen
Words: 2.3k
Warning: Fighting; hurt x comfort
Y/N’s POV
The adrenaline surges through my veins, drowning out the pain from the attackers’ blows. All three are wesen, throwing words at me but I can barely hear them over the ringing in my ears, they’re growling something about being friends with a Grimm or something. Fear, anger and desperation collide within me as I manage to dig my elbow into one of their sides and he loses his grip on me enough for me to wriggle to freedom and make a break for it.
I sprint through the dimly lit streets, each step being agony and I think I’ve definitely broken my ankle as pain radiates up my leg with each step. The only thought echoing through my mind is, “Gotta get to Nick’s.” My Fuchsbau instincts cream danger, urging me to push myself almost beyond my own limits. The night air bites at my skin, my own blood feeling warm as it seeps from all my injuries, but the urge to seek refuge at Nick’s house drives me forwards. I can’t let them catch me again, not when the safety of a Grimm and my friend awaits so close.
My breaths come in ragged gasps, chest heaving, legs burning with exertion. The familiar route to Nick’s house feels longer tonight, every street corner a potential ambush. Yet, the determination to reach the one place I know they won’t come to fuels my sprint.
Finally, the familiar facade of Nick’s house emerges, a beacon of hope in the darkness. I trip my way up the stairs on the porch and practically collapse against the door, my knuckles pounding against it, desperation evident in the urgency of my knocks. Every second feeling like an eternity until the door swings open and Nick is having to step forwards to catch me as my legs give way now the door isn’t there to support me and the adrenaline is fading into the blinding agony.
“Y/N’s?! What… Wh-“
“They came out of nowhere,” I manage to choke out through the tears that bubbled up, making me choke, “They cut me, they tore at me, they…”
Nick’s arms envelope me, holding me tightly against his chest. His touch feels like an anchor, grounding me amidst the chaos of my emotions. His face is buries in my hair, I feel the tremors of anger vibrating through me as his hisses, “Those bastards,” His voice is laced with a raw fury I’ve only heard once before, “I won’t let them get away with this.”
His words though soft, resonate with a promise. A promise of protection, of retribution. His anger reverberates against my skin, soothing the ache of vulnerability with the reassurance that he’s willing to stand up for me despite his ancestors going out of their way to kill Wesen. I just cling to him, seeking solace in his embrace, grateful for the solidarity and the unspoken vow to right the wrongs inflicted upon us.
Nick's reassurance is a steady comfort, his promise a shield against the darkness closing in. "Let's get you cleaned up," he murmurs, his voice now a soothing balm after the storm of anger. His hands move gently over my skin, rubbing away the residue of fear and pain.
I nod weakly, unable to voice my gratitude, and he leads me up the stairs to his room. The familiarity of his space brings a sense of safety, a respite from the chaos outside. He offers to run me a bath, but I shake my head, not ready to face the vulnerability of soaking in water when every touch stings and I’m gripping onto Nick’s sleeve not wanting him to leave me.
“Hey,” his voice is a gentle caress, his hand covering mine that grips his sleeve tightly, “I’ll be right back, okay? Just going to grab the first aid kit.”
Reluctantly, I release my grip, watching as he heads to the bathroom. Alone in his room, I take in the familiar surroundings—the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand, the reassuring scent of his cologne lingering in the air. It’s a respite from the chaos outside, a sanctuary in the midst of turmoil. I hear the faint sounds of Nick rummaging in the bathroom, a distant echo of comfort. In that feeling moment, I let myself breathe, trying to steady my nerves and wipe away the tears while awaiting his return.
Less than a minute later, Nick reappears, first aid kit in hand. His presence aline brings a sense of security, the knowledge he’s here to help and trusts me enough to be in his room, to mend not just physical wounds but also the motional toll of the attack.
He settles beside me once more, his touch gentle yet purposeful as he tends to the injury on my shoulder. The warmth of his care washes over me, a reminder that despite the dangers lurking in the shadows, there are allies, friends willing to stand by me.
He reaches for a damp cloth, cleaning the blood from my face with careful strokes. His movements are tender, a silent understanding passing between us. I offer no resistance as, with my silent consent, he helps me shed the dirty, blood-stained clothes, leaving me in just my underwear before him.
Awareness prickles along my skin, a sudden rush of self-consciousness as I sit there, exposed and vulnerable in front of Nick, my long-term crush. The air between us feels charged, heavy with unspoken sentiments and a history that goes beyond mere friendship. I can’t help but wrap my arms around my already bruising sides, covering the galaxies of reds, purples, blues and greens from his sight and mine.
My arms involuntarily wrap around my bruised sides, shielding the kaleidoscope of colours from both Nick’s sight and my own. Despite the comforting reassurance in his presence, the vulnerability of this moment hangs heavy in the air.
A wave of emotions crashes over me, leaving me momentarily breathless. Before I can retreat further into myself, Nick’s rough yet gentle hands cups my cheek, guiding my face to look at him. His eyes hold a tenderness that sends a tremor through me.
“Don’t hide.” He murmurs, his voice a soft reassurance, “You’re… beautiful.”
His words hold a weight that goes beyond physical appearances. They echo with a understanding, a depth of connection that transcends the bruises and scars. For a moment, silence envelopes us, thick and sweet, wrapping around us like a cocoon.
In that suspended moment, I feel the shift in the air, a subtle change that sparks anticipation and nerves alike. Nick ducks his head towards me as if he’s going to kiss me and my pulse skyrockets as I must still be on the floor and the wesen have beaten me half to death. I must be dreaming this but no, Nick’s lips brush against mine in a soft, tentative kiss.
The touch is gentle, a whispered promise of shared feelings, a tender exploration of them. His kiss holds a tenderness that mingles with he weight of unspoken words, a silent understanding passing between us in a stolen moment. But he’s pulling away almost too quickly, a nervous look in his eyes before we both break into relieved smiles.
He presses a chaste kiss to my forehead, his touch lingering for a heartbeat longer, “I need to Monroe and Hank,” He says softly, his voice carrying a mixture of reassurance and a hint of lingering emotions, “Pick what you want from my wardrobe sweetheart, I’ll be right downstairs.” He goes to leave before pausing in the doorway, “You’re safe.”
Watching him leave the room, I’m left sitting there, feeling a blend of emotions sweating within me. It’s a dizzying mix of elation and disbelief, a rush of happiness tempered by the weight of uncertainty. Nick’s reciprocal feelings, evident in tat fleeting kiss, send a surge of warmth through me, yet doubt lingers in the corners of my mind.
In the quiet of his room, I take a moment to gather my thoughts. The realising that Nick might share the same feelings leaves me in awe, tingling sensation in my chest that’s both thrilling and overwhelming.
I pull myself to my feet ignoring the pain in my ankle, hobbling to his chest of drawers and sifting through them, picking out some clothes, my mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. There’s a sense of joy and wonder at the prospect of Nick returning my affections, mingled with a hint of trepidation. If this is what they’re willing to do to me for being friends with Nick what would they do if they knew I was with Nick?
I shake those thoughts from my head, getting dressed in the slightly oversized clothes before heading towards the stairs. Each step is a reminder of the lingering pain, but the warmth of Nick’s home offers solace and a sense of security.
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see Nick finishing up his call, likely with Hank. He rushes over as I approach, concern etched into his features. With careful guidance, he leads me to the couch, settling me down with gentle ease.
In a rush of confidence, my heart pounding with a mix of nerves and boldness, I reach out and grab the collars of his button-up shirt, tugging him closer. For a moment, it’s as if gravity itself conspires against us as he nearly topples over, catching himself of the back and arm of the sofa before he can fall onto me properly. A chuckle leaving him, a sound seems to soothe the lingering tension in the air. There’s a warmth in his laughter, an acknowledgement of the unexpected situation, yet his eyes hold a glimmer of affection.
“Careful there,” He teases gently, adjusting his position to sit properly on the couch, our shoulders touching. The closeness feels both natural and electrifying but, it’s not enough for me. I need him closer, I need to kiss him again and it’s as if he’s thinking the same thing. He turns his head to face me, lips parted as if he’s going to say something but then those entrancing eyes flick down my own lips and it’s like all self-control snaps.
His large hands are gripping my waist and carefully he’s sitting me on his lap so I’m straddling him, knees either side and injured ankle hanging off the couch and out of harms way. One of his hands moves up my side and to my cheek, eyes searching my face for any doubts before he’s drawing me into a much more heated kiss than before.
The kiss is an inferno, a collision of emotions and unspoken yearnings. His lips, warm and inviting, meld with mine in a dance of passion and tenderness. There’s a hunger in the way out lips move together, each touch igniting a spark that blurs the lines between us. Nick’s scent surrounds me, a blend of his cologne and the natural warmth of his skin, an intoxicating mix that fills my sense. His hand, firm yet gentle on my cheek, anchors me in the moment, while my hands find their way to the front of his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons, needing to feel the skin beneath.
As the kiss deepens, it feels like the world around us fades away, leaving only the heat of our connection, the rhythm of our heartbeats echoing in sync. Nick’s hand, initially resting on my cheek, moves to tangle in my hair, a silent invitation that sets my nerves alight. His other hand pulls me closer, drawing me flush against him, erasing any remaining distance between us.
The kiss deepens even more, a silent battle for dominance as our desires collide. There’s a fiery passion in the way our lips move together, a dance of intertwined emotions and unspoken longing.
Feeling the tension between us, Nick tugs gently on my hair, eliciting a gasp that grants him entry. His tongue slips into the kiss, a rush of heat and longing intertwining with every movement. It's a dance of desire, a symphony of shared emotions as our tongues meet in a passionate tango, exploring, and claiming.
The symphony of our passion seems to carry us into a realm beyond the confines of times and space. Lost in the embrace of the moment, we barely register the sound of the front door opening. Hank, Rosalee and Monroe’s voices call out Nick’s name, their footsteps echoing through the house, shattering the intimacy between us.
Before I can slide off Nick’s lap, three sets of footsteps echo into the room. Rosalee, ever perceptive, swiftly ushers Hank and Monroe straight past us and into the kitchen, an unspoken understanding flashing between our fleeting eye contact.
There’s a fleeting moment of shock that lingers in the air, our gazes meeting with a shared sense of urgency. I scramble to disentangle myself from Nick's lap, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and the remnants of passion, crying out in pain at putting pressure on my ankle which has the three rushing back in.
Nick, composed yet flustered, adjusts himself as we both regain our composure. The interruption feels like a cold splash of reality, abruptly yanking us back from the heated moment we shared and he’s helping me sit down again. Pressing another loving kiss to my forehead before murmuring, “Get some sleep, let me talk to them. I’ll be here when you wake.”
I hesitate as Nick rises to his feet, eyes soft as he says one word quietly, “Sleep.” And it’s the last thing I hear before I find myself passing out from exhaustion, a smile on my kiss-swollen lips.
