It clings to him when he comes home from work, stronger than soap, stronger than the city.

He stands in the doorway one evening, shoulders tense, hands braced on the frame like he is preparing himself.

“I should tell you something,” he says.

You set your mug down and wait.

“It is… an orc thing,” he continues, voice low and careful. “Seasonal. Instinctual. I did not realise it was this close.”

“Mating season,” you say gently.

“Yeah. That.”

You cross the room and take his hands before he can retreat. His skin is warmer than usual. His grip tightens reflexively, then loosens as soon as he realises what he is doing.

“I am not going to hurt you, I would never. I have control. I just thought maybe I should sleep on the sofa for a bit. Give you space.”

You look up at him.

“Is that what you want, or what you think you are supposed to do?”

His throat bobs. He does not answer straight away.

“I feel… more. Everything is louder. Wanting, protecting, needing. And I do not want you to think that is all I see you as.”

You step closer instead.

“Nick,” you say softly, pressing your forehead to his chest like you always do. “I know who you are. Instinct does not erase that.”

He freezes, breath hitching. You feel it in the way his chest expands, in the way his hands hover uncertainly before settling at your waist.

“I might be clingier. More touchy. More aware of you.”

You smile at him, hoping to calm him.

“You can want me. And if it ever feels like too much, we talk. That is how this works.”

His arms come around you fully then, firm but careful, like he is anchoring himself. His chin rests against your hair, breath warm, steadying.

“You smell different to me right now. Intoxicating. Comforting. Safe. It is making this harder and easier at the same time.”

You lace your fingers together behind his back.

“Then stay. Let yourself be close. You do not have to be alone with it.”

That night, he holds you like something precious. His touch lingers a fraction longer than usual. His breathing deepens when you shift closer. There is heat there, unmistakable, but also reverence. Control. Choice.

When you drift toward sleep, you feel him press a careful kiss to your shoulder, restrained and full of promise.

“Thank you, for trusting me.”

You smile, already half asleep.

“Always.”

It starts with the blankets.

You come home to find them missing from the bed, folded carefully and stacked on the sofa. Not neatly. Deliberately. Cushions have been rearranged, chairs nudged closer, the space narrowed in a way that feels intentional rather than messy.

Nick stands in the middle of it all like he has been caught doing something wrong.

“Oh,” he says, ears flushing faintly. “You are back early.”

You glance around, then back at him. His shoulders are tense, hands clasped together, that familiar look of uncertainty written all over his face.

“Did something happen?” you ask gently.

He hesitates. Then sighs, long and low, like giving in to gravity.

"I did not mean to make a mess. I just needed it to feel… smaller. Safer.”

Understanding settles in your chest.

“Nesting,” you say.

He nods, embarrassed. 

“Orc instinct. It does not always kick in this strong, but this year it feels louder. Like my body is telling me to build something. To keep what matters close. To build you a safe place.”

You step into the space he has made. The cushions curve inward. The blankets smell like him, warm and familiar. It feels sheltered, almost cocooned.

“You can keep going, I do not mind.”

His eyes flick up to yours, wide and hopeful in a way that makes your heart ache.

“You are sure? It can get… clingy. Possessive, but not in a bad way. More like wanting you here. With me.”

You reach for his hand.

“I am here. Show me what you need.”

That is all it takes.

Nick relaxes visibly, tension melting from his frame as he pulls you gently into the nest with him. He adds more layers, adjusting pillows until you are both half hidden from the world. When he settles behind you, his arms wrap around your waist, solid and warm, his chin resting at your shoulder.

He exhales slowly, deeply, like something inside him has finally clicked into place.

“This feels right, I do not feel like I have to watch the door.”

You lean back into him, letting yourself be held.

“You do not. You are safe. We both are.”

His grip tightens just a little. His breathing steadies against your neck, warm and constant. Every now and then he nuzzles closer, a quiet, unconscious motion, as if making sure you are real.

You are ready to do anything he asks of you. Mating season is close and no matter how loving and tender Nick is, his instincts will speak instead of his mind.

But you are there for him. Because you love him.

---

The world is very quiet.

Not empty. Just hushed, like it knows better than to intrude.

You lie tangled together in the nest, bare skin pressed to bare skin, layers of blankets tucked around you both like a boundary the outside cannot cross. 

The warmth fills not only the room, but your body. 

The air smells like you, like him.

Nick is stretched along your side, one arm draped over your waist, his palm resting low on your stomach as if he needs the reassurance that you are still here. His breathing is slow now. Deep. Finally even.

You have never felt him this calm.

His head is tucked under your chin, cheek pressed against your chest, tusks brushing your skin every time he exhales. He is completely unguarded. No tension in his shoulders. No vigilance in his posture. Just weight, warmth, presence.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, fingers tracing idle shapes along his shoulder.

He hums in response, eyes still closed. The sound is low, content, almost drowsy.

“I feel… quiet,” he says after a moment. His voice is rough, spent, but peaceful in a way you have never heard before. “Inside, I mean.”

You smile, brushing your thumb through his hair.

“That is good. You deserve quiet.”

His fingers flex against you, instinctive, grounding. He shifts closer, pressing his forehead into your collarbone, breathing you in like he is memorising the moment.

“I was worried. That once it was over, I would feel restless again. Like something would still be pulling at me.”

“And now?”

He exhales slowly, long and satisfied.

“Now I just want to stay like this."

Your chest tightens at the honesty of it.

You pull the blankets higher around his back, cocooning him fully, and he makes a soft sound of approval before relaxing even more into you. His leg hooks loosely over yours, unthinking, possessive in the gentlest way.

“You did good. You stayed present. You listened. You trusted me.”

His eyes open then, dark and warm, fixed on your face.

“Thank you for not being afraid of me- Even when my instincts took over.”

You cup his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks, steady and sure.

“I was never afraid, I saw you choosing me every step of the way.”

He presses a slow, lingering kiss to your skin, just under your jaw. Then he settles back down, cheek against you again, one hand splayed over your heart.

The nest holds.

The season quiets.

And wrapped in warmth, naked and safe, Nick Jakoby finally sleeps without watching the door.

---

Normal comes back quietly.

There is no dramatic change, no sharp line where Nick wakes up and everything is suddenly different. It just softens. 

The constant warmth fades. The restless tension settles. His touch becomes familiar again, rather than instinct heavy, though it never loses its care.

The nest stays, even after the season passes. 

Blankets still live on the sofa. Pillows still get adjusted when one of you has a rough day. 

It no longer feels urgent, just comforting.

That is how you know he is back to himself when the worry starts.

You find him standing in the kitchen one evening, staring at nothing, hands braced against the counter like he is holding something steady inside his chest. 

He looks up when you enter, eyes searching your face in that careful way he gets when he is scared of being wrong.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

You nod and step closer. 

“Of course.”

He hesitates, ears flushing faintly. 

“I have been thinking about the season. About… us. And I know we were careful, but orc instincts are not always logical, and I just keep wondering if I pushed something onto you. If you chose because of me instead of because you wanted to.”

Your heart aches immediately.

“Nick,” you say softly.

“What if you are pregnant?” he blurts out. “I would be there. Obviously. I just keep worrying that my instincts overrode your choice, and that is not fair to you.”

You close the distance and rest your hands on his arms, grounding him the way you always do.

“I am not pregnant,” you tell him gently.

He searches your face. 

“You are sure?”

You smile, small and fond. 

“I am very sure. I have a doctor who is extremely good at her job, and my birth control pills are working like a charm.”

The relief hits him so hard it is almost visible. His shoulders drop. His breath leaves him in a slow rush.

“Oh, okay.”

Then the guilt creeps in.

“I am sorry,” he adds immediately. “I should not have let myself worry you. I just keep thinking that during mating season, orcs can influence bonding urges. I never wanted you to feel pressured. I never wanted you to choose me because my biology was loud.”

You cup his face, steady and warm, forcing him to look at you.

“I chose you because I love you. Not because of instincts. Not because of heat. Not because of a season.”

His eyes soften, glossy with emotion.

“You were careful. You asked. You gave me space to say no every step of the way. That matters.”

He swallows. 

“Even when I was not thinking straight?”

“Especially then. I am an adult. I know my body. I know my choices. And my doctor would absolutely not let me forget if something was off.”

That earns a weak laugh from him.

“She sounds terrifying,” he says.

“She is,” you agree. “And very thorough.”

Nick pulls you into his arms, holding you close, no urgency this time. Just reassurance. His chin rests on the top of your head, breathing steady and calm.

“I just needed to hear it. That you were still you. That I did not take anything from you.”

You wrap your arms around his waist.

“You did not. You gave me closeness. I gave it back. That is all.”

He presses a soft kiss into your hair.

“Mating season,” he murmurs.

“Or not,” you reply.

He smiles against you, calm settled fully now, content in the knowledge that what you share is choice, not instinct.

And that is enough.

All lip gloss and fluttery eyelashes, standing far too close to Nick, her hand on his arm as she handed over a file.

You watched her laugh, high-pitched and syrupy, at something he’d said. Nick gave a polite smile, not even looking up from the paperwork. He clearly wasn’t paying attention. But you were.

Your fingers tightened around your cup.

Nick didn’t notice anything odd. He never did. He was kind to everyone. That was part of what you loved about him.

But it didn’t stop your chest from aching when she tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned just a little too close.

You turned away before she caught you staring, swallowing down the bitter taste in your throat.

“Something wrong?”

His voice was warm, low, the way it always was with you. You shook your head and offered him a tight smile.

“Just tired,” you lied.

Nick studied you for a moment, then gestured to the empty chair beside him. “You wanna sit?”

“No, I should go. Got errands.”

“You didn’t bring muffins today,” he said, teasing gently.

You forced a laugh. “Guess I forgot.”

You left before he could say more.

That night, you were in your flat, candles lit, a blanket wrapped around you as the silence pressed in.

There was a knock at your door.

When you opened it, Nick stood there, holding two containers of takeaway and wearing a deeply puzzled expression.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he said. “I thought something was wrong.”

You stepped aside to let him in, heart hammering.

“I’m fine,” you murmured. “You didn’t have to come.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply.

You sat across from him on the floor as he unpacked the food. He passed you a container of your favourite curry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to eat.

Not with your chest so tight.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked quietly.

You blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been... off. All day.”

You stared at your hands. Then, before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

“I saw the way she touched your arm.”

Nick paused.

“Marla?” he asked, confused.

“She was flirting,” you said flatly. “And you didn’t even notice.”

He was silent.

“I know we’re not- I mean, we haven’t really talked about what we are,” you went on, heart thudding, “but I feel like I’ve been falling for you. Slowly. Deeply. And today I felt like an idiot.”

You didn’t realise your hands were shaking until he gently covered them with his own.

“I didn’t notice,” he said, voice quiet. “Because I was watching you.”

You looked up.

“I don’t care if someone else flirts with me,” he continued. “You’re the one I wait to see every day. You’re the one I think about before I fall asleep. You’re the one who made me feel like I was worth loving, even when I didn’t believe it myself.”

He took a breath, his thumb stroking across your knuckles.

“You don’t have to be jealous, because there’s no one else. There hasn’t been. There won’t be.”

Your throat tightened. “Then why haven’t you said anything?”

He gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “Because I didn’t think someone like you could feel that way about someone like me.”

You leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate.

It was steady. Warm.

Like the two of you had been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.

When you pulled back, he was smiling.

“You brought dinner,” you murmured.

He nodded. “And tomorrow, I’ll bring muffins.”

---

You walked into the precinct with two takeaway cups in hand and a paper bag tucked under your arm.

It was early, Nick was probably still filing reports from his night shift but you liked this routine.

Muffins. Coffee.

A few minutes together before the madness of the day began.

You spotted him at his desk and smiled. He looked up, and the weariness in his face faded immediately when he saw you.

“Hey,” he said, already rising to meet you.

“Still like blueberry?” you teased, holding out the bag.

“Always,” he murmured, taking it with a warmth in his eyes that made your chest ache. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and he looked like he’d melt from it.

That’s when you heard her.

“Oh. Hey, Jakoby.”

Marla.

You turned slightly, watching as she strolled over, all hips and red lips, pretending not to see you.

She flicked her hair over her shoulder and tapped his arm like it belonged to her.

“You never came by the Evidence room yesterday,” she said lightly. “I saved something for you.”

Nick blinked. “I didn’t need anything.”

She laughed sharp and pointed. “Well, you should drop by anyway. You know, just to say hi.”

Her hand was still on his arm.

You were about to make a sharp excuse and leave when Nick shifted.

Gently, but firmly, he moved her hand off him.

“Marla,” he said. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m seeing someone.”

You froze.

Marla blinked. “Oh?”

He turned to you then and his hand found yours.

“This is her,” he said simply. “She’s my girlfriend.”

You hadn’t heard him say it out loud yet. Not like that.

Your breath caught.

“Oh,” Marla said again, more awkward now. “I didn’t realise.”

Nick’s expression didn’t waver. “Now you do.”

There was no room left for misunderstanding.

Marla made a hasty excuse and walked off.

Nick turned to you. “Sorry about that. I should’ve said something earlier.”

“You didn’t have to,” you said quietly. “But... I’m glad you did.”

He touched your cheek with the back of his hand, rough and gentle all at once.

“Only ever wanted you,” he said. “From the first time you brought me those muffins and asked if I was okay. That was it for me.”

You stepped closer. “Nick.”

He kissed you.

Right there in the middle of the precinct. And you didn’t care who saw.

Because you were his. And he was yours.

And now, the whole world knew it.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

You barely turned before the gun was in your face.

You froze.

Then, chaos.

A loud crash.

Someone shouting, “LAPD!”

You didn’t see much. Just a blur of movement.

But you remembered the sound of a body slamming into another. You remembered falling back, glass cutting into your arm. And then, safety. Someone crouched over you, checking your pulse. A warm, broad hand against your shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” a deep voice had said. “You’re safe now.”

You looked up and saw him.

Orc. Badge. Blood on his cheek, not yours.

Before you could speak, the paramedics were wheeling you away.

Three days later, you walked into the police station.

It wasn’t hard to find. But finding him was another story.

You cleared your throat at the front desk.

“I’m looking for Officer Jakoby. He was at the Eastwood robbery. I was-well, he saved me.”

The receptionist blinked slowly, then pressed a button. “Jakoby. Civilian for you.”

When Nick appeared, your breath caught.

He looked even taller out of the chaos.

Still imposing, still strong, but soft. He was holding a clipboard and looked startled when he saw you.

“Hi,” you said, heart fluttering. “I didn’t get to thank you. So... thank you. For what you did.”

He blinked. “Oh. It was nothing. Just doing my job.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” you said firmly. “You saved me. And I brought you something.”

You lifted the paper bag in your hands.

“Muffins,” you added, almost shyly. “I wasn’t sure what you liked. So I made a mix.”

His ears twitched.

“I’m really not supposed to—” he began, but you held it out stubbornly.

“Tomorrow,” you said, smiling. “I’ll bring banana bread.”

He looked like he didn’t know what to do with you.

You started showing up every day.

Sometimes with muffins. Other times with scones or biscuits.

Always smiling, always asking how his shift went. Nick kept insisting it wasn’t necessary. You kept coming anyway.

The other officers noticed.

One day, when you arrived, one of them passed by and smirked. “Hey, Jakoby. Your girlfriend’s here again.”

Nick flushed green. You didn’t stop smiling.

“I’m just saying,” another chimed in from the bullpen, “if I had someone bringing me baked goods every day, I’d propose.”

You laughed.

Nick looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

After that, you noticed he was waiting for you when you arrived.

Trying not to seem like he was. But always close. Always warm.

You were falling. Slowly. Completely.

Then, one day, you didn’t come.

Nick told himself you were just busy. Maybe you were out of town. But by day four, he couldn’t stop pacing. By day five, he cracked.

He checked your file from the robbery report. Found the café you’d listed as your workplace.

He found you sitting by a window table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, eyes downcast.

You looked up as the door chimed, surprised to see him.

“I thought something happened,” he said, coming to stand beside you.

You shook your head. “No. Nothing happened.”

There was a pause.

“Then why did you stop coming?” His voice was low.

You looked away.

“Because I finally realised... you were just being kind. Letting me hover. Letting me pretend there was something... more. But you don’t look at me the way I look at you, Nick. And I was starting to get hurt.”

He stared at you.

“I figured I should stop before I embarrassed myself,” you added softly.

Silence.

Then his chair scraped as he sat across from you, close.

“Do you know,” he said, voice quiet, “that I’ve waited every day for you to show up again? That I stood at my locker this morning, hoping there’d be another note in my coat pocket with a stupid muffin pun?”

You blinked.

“I do look at you,” he said. “Maybe too much. I didn’t think you’d want someone like me.”

“I do,” you whispered.

You touched his hand across the table. He didn’t pull away.

“I missed you,” he said simply.

Your heart caught.

“I missed you, too.”

Later that evening, you walked through the city together.

Your hands brushed until finally, finally, he laced his fingers with yours.

Outside your door, he hesitated, then asked, “Do I get a muffin tomorrow?”

You grinned.

“You get one every day now.”

And when he leaned in to kiss you, it was soft.

Like he’d never thought anyone would want him like this, but you did.

And he’d never let you go.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

The sharp tone. The bitter laugh. The deliberate hush that wasn’t a hush at all.

You didn’t need to guess who they were talking about.

"How does she even look at him and not flinch? His face looks like it was carved with a chainsaw."

"I heard orcs don’t even feel love, it’s all instinct. She probably doesn’t even realise it."

"Honestly? Probably just some weird kink. I mean, have you seen the size of him?"

You turned around.

Three women.

All perfectly put together, identical acrylic nails and matching sneers. You weren’t one to pick fights, but this wasn’t the first time you’d heard whispers. Being a human woman married to an orc was enough to turn every supermarket aisle into a gauntlet.

But today?

Today you were tired of silence.

"He’s kinder than any man I’ve ever met," you said.

They blinked.

All three heads whipped toward you like hens startled in the coop.

"What?"

You took a step closer, calm but unflinching. "Nick is smart. Gentle. Funny. He volunteers with kids. He brings me flowers for no reason. And he listens to me when I’m upset instead of trying to fix everything like some white knight with a saviour complex."

One of them scoffed. "Okay, but still, you really-"

You didn’t let her finish.

"You’re just jealous because your husbands can’t compete. Especially not in the size department."

Silence.

Absolute, stunned silence.

You could have heard an apricot drop.

One woman choked on her gum. Another opened her mouth, closed it again, and simply stared. The third looked like her soul had just left her body.

And behind you, you heard it, the faint, startled sound of your husband trying desperately not to burst out laughing.

Nick walked up beside you, tea bags in hand, ears tipped slightly pink, but his chest puffed out with pride like a knight in battle-worn armour.

"Sweetheart," he said, voice rumbling with affection and awe, "that might’ve been the hottest thing you’ve ever said."

You slipped your arm through his.

"They don’t matter," you murmured, just loud enough for the trio to hear. "Only we do."

He looked at you, heart in his eyes.

"I promise I’ll speak up more," he said softly. "About us. About me. I let too many people treat me like I don’t matter, but you never do. You make me feel like I deserve everything."

"You do," you whispered. "You always have."

As you turned to leave, arm in arm, Nick dropped a single look back at the gaping women.

"By the way," he added with a casual shrug, "she’s not exaggerating."

The tea bags rustled in the awkward quiet as you both walked away, laughing.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad