Trubel x Wesen Reader where Nick only overhears Reader confiding in Rosalee about their crush the Grimm and he starts freaking out because!!! Oh no!!! You cant have a crush on me I am already spoken for!!!
All he heard was them talking about how hard a Wesen x Grimm relationship would be and he dips because he's freaking out too much. And from then on it's just a whole awkward spiral of him trying to put distance between them both and his main method is to pair Reader with literally anyone else on the team for their cases which usually ends up being Trubel.
He inadvertently pushes them into enough situations where one of the two confesses and he starts putting the pieces together after the relationship is announced.
And no one has to know what he had been freaking out about, he's taking that one to the grave
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.
He had called you late into the night, babbling about magic and Juliette and comas. It was clear he needed someone with a clear head, so you dressed quickly and met him at the hospital.
Detective Nick Burkhardt paced the hallway of the hospital as the team of medical personnel worked to stabilize his girlfriend. He was soaked with rain and smelled of petrichor as you approached him.
He tugged at the ends of his hair and ran his hands through the wet locks, as he always did when he was anxious or frustrated. You gently stopped him from tugging his hair out and drew him into a hug. His leather jacket was just as wet as the rest of him, but his arms were tight, and you could feel his heart thundering in his chest.
“How is she?” You ask, and he shrugs, looking toward her room where a nurse checks her vitals.
“She’s stable. I think. The doctor hasn’t told me much other than he’s not sure what caused the coma without some tests. They’re just keeping her comfortable for now.” He says, emotionless, quiet, not at all like himself. You fit yourself into your friend’s side, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders as if you were his lifeline.
Any random person passing by would’ve thought you were a couple. But you knew that wasn’t the case. He was your best friend. Your rock. And you were his. You helped him adjust to the Grimm world as someone who wasn’t a Grimm nor a wesen but knew of both. In fact, you practically grew up together at the insistence of Aunt Marie.
“This is my fault,” He says bitterly, and you hush him gently. You had known of his desire to tell Juliette of the Grimm world and even encouraged it! You knew of Adalind. You knew practically everything that went on in his head. It was the perk of knowing him for two decades.
“You know that’s a lie. It was that witch’s Adalind’s fault and no one else’s.” You say vehemently, and he stares at you for a moment before hanging his head and chuckling.
“Thanks.” He mumbles, and you grin, reaching up to tangle your hand with his to lead him out to the car.
“You gave your number to the hospital, right? They’ll call you if anything changes. And you need sleep,” You say, putting up your umbrella as the two of you step back into the rain.
The sound of pattering drops on the umbrella helps calm you, and by proxy, it helps calm Nick. His shoulders release their tension until he’s bantering back and forth, just like old times.
The two of you stop when you reach Nick’s beat-up old car.
“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all. Name it, and I’ll do it.” You say as he stands with his driver’s side door open. He hesitates, and you arch an eyebrow.
“Can… Can I have another hug? Please?” He sounds broken and oh so small. Your heart breaks just as his voice does.
“Oh Nick… You know you never have to ask. You whisper and pull him into a tight embrace, foregoing your umbrella and letting it tumble to the asphalt of the hospital parking lot.
The Grimm returns the affection just as readily. His arms go around your waist just as you pull him down by his shoulders. He buries his face in your hair, and you don’t even care that you’re slowly getting soaked by the still-falling torrent of rain.
You pull away, hands on his shoulders, as you look him in the eye,
“Everything will work out, Nick. I promise.” You say, and he just smiles.
Has anyone said anything about season four episode 17, when Juliette almost kills Adalind and then after she fails she immediately goes to spice shop, to talk to Monroe and Rosalee for some help. She says “I’m losing myself, I need help.” She just sounds so sad, and lost. Like her walls are down and she’s reaching out. Then Nick shows up and her walls go back up.
Nick "Lei è Theresa Rubel"
Juliette "Ciao Theresa"
Theresa"Nessuno mi chiama Theresa"
Juliette "Ah... e come ti chiamano allora?"
Theresa "Mi chiamano Trouble"
