OMG!!! your Orc stories are so good!
Can I suggest writing a Himbo Orc x reader (I can barely find any for some reason?)
Either way, I just wanted to let you know I love your stories!💕
Thank you!! I'm so glad you love it, I plan on writing SO much more!!!
A/N: I LOVED this btw, Himbo Orc x reader is new to me but OMG I LOVE!! Thank you so much for the request! I had so much fun writing this, and I definitely will be writing more.
I hope you like how this turned out!
warnings: himbo orc x reader, slow burn (I'm sorry, it just happened), strangers to lovers, limited English from him, kind of golden retriever energy? he's a gentle giant, mention of hunting (not violent or descriptive)
Himbo Orc x Reader
You had your bow raised, arms stiff in position, the deer in your sights.
Until suddenly it ran away, you groaned to yourself as you quickly fastened your bow to your pack and chased after the deer.
You tracked the deer through the forest, your hunger blinding you from your surroundings.
You didn't realize you were near a dangerous part of the forest until you felt your feet lifted through the air, and your arms suddenly bound to your sides.
You were suspended in a rope net trap, eye to eye with the lower branches of the tall forest trees. You couldn't believe your luck, you were stuck in someones trap starving… you weren't sure if you'd starve first or if whoever's trap this would kill you.
You felt the hours pass slowly, your stomach growling and aching for something to eat.
The sun had set an hour ago, and you feared what the night may bring.
You stayed alert and awake, a mixture of fear, anxiety, and hunger keeping you up.
It was deep into the night when you hear loud footsteps approaching your area from further in the forest. The darkness makes you unable to see anything, even while you squint to try. You try not to focus on the fear that bubbles in your stomach, but it overwhelms your hunger quickly and you begin to try to escape the net.
You reach back for your bow but realize it flew from you when you were lifted into the trap.
You stopped and sat still as you realized that whatever was coming through the forest was about to be right in front of you.
You kept searching the darkness for anything, what you didn't expect to see was an orc.
Let alone such a handsome one, his tusks poked out from his bottom lip and his dark brown hair was braided messily like it was braided earlier in the morning. You were able to see more of his features as he came to stand closer.
You were small in the large net, and the net came down to around his shoulders so you were almost eye to eye. You heard a low rumble com from deep in his chest, it sounded as if he was confused.
Suddenly he started pulling and poking at the trap, causing you to shake slightly. A few startled gasps left your mouth as you wondered what he was doing, fear still bubbled in your stomach but it was lessened by the seemingly friendly interaction you had.
You felt the net give and you started to fall through the air before the orc caught the net and slowly lowered you to the ground as gently as he could.
You laid there tangled in the net trying to get yourself free when you felt him crouch to the ground in front of you, when you looked at him you noticed it was as if he was trying to appear smaller.
You studied his features more closely a moment, forgetting your fear and instincts to run you focused on his sharp handsome features and deep brown eyes that almost looked black in the night.
You were so focused on him that you almost missed when he sniffed the air and turned his head.
Your brow furrowed, curious as to what he was doing and why he hadn't hurt you.
Suddenly you heard soft uncertain sounds come from him, and then a word.
"Hurt?"
He sounded as though he had never spoken it before, and you could tell he didn't know much English and didn't talk much.
You shook your head slowly but softly side to side; you watched as he slowly approached you with a large knife, which looked small in his hand.
He carefully cut the parts of the net that were knotted around your body, one knot he reaches for is closer to your side and you flinched slightly at the sight of the knife and his large hands coming towards you.
You were told to always be cautious, and you so desperately wished he was as kind as he seemed to be but you could not trust him.
The moment you flinched he caught it, although it wasn't a drastic movement from you but it made him freeze and stop what he was doing.
You spoke slowly and quietly to him, "Thank you."
You noticed that when you spoke he watched your lips, seemingly unintentional. You relaxed your body a little, you had some trust in him now. You nodded softly, trying to tell him that you were okay with him continuing.
He didn't touch you unless it was absolutely necessary, and when he did it was hesitant with an open palm.
You were pretty weak from your deep hunger and shaken up from all of the events of the day and night.
He knew something was wrong, but was unsure of what to do.
So he helped the way he knew how, he lifted you up easily and carried you through the forest towards his tent without a word. One arm slides beneath your knees, while the other braces your back drawing you close against his chest.
You were further startled by how quickly he had lifted you into his large warm arms. You had expected at least some clumsiness, but there wasn't any.
His hold is secure and warm, as your head rests just beneath his chin you feel the warmth radiating off of his muscular chest.
You can smell his warm musky scent more now, like Earth and pine with something like cleaning herbs beneath it all.
Once you had been walking for a few minutes you felt more weary than before and tensed in his hold, his grip around you tightened only enough to keep you steady.
"Shh…" he rumbled low, the sound more of a vibration than a word, spreading from his chest to your body.
He moved through the trees with a quiet confidence, branches that would have snagged you earlier were now bending aside for him.
His pace was careful too, adjusting when you flinched and slowing down when your breath stuttered.
You could see a low warm light from the direction you were heading, fear still swirled inside of you at the thought of what this orc might want from you.
Your thoughts are broken by a soft low sound, you realize that he's humming.
It's so low you almost didn't catch it and it was uneven, so it wasn't a song but it vibrated through his chest into yours.
He didn't look at you while he walked, only forward staying alert, almost protective.
His pace slowed before you saw it, the forest thinned and the trees parted to a small clearing where smoke curled faintly in the air.
Tucked beneath the shelter of a massive oak tree was his home, simple and sturdy.
A tent of thick hides and woven bark, reinforced with branches and bones.
Nothing decorative, and nothing wasted.
As he stepped inside he ducked his head, careful not to jostle you in his arms. The space is dim and warm, lit by a fire set in the ground.
Furs were layered across the ground in deliberate order, clean and well-kept.
This isn't the den of a beastly orc, this is the home for someone who knows how to live alone.
He lowered you slowly only the soft warm furs, as if you were fragile.
His hands lingered a moment longer than necessary, hovering, uncertain.
When you don't pull away, he lets out a quiet huff as if relieved.
"Stay." he said gently but firm towards you.
He moved away, but within reach. He poked at the fire and fed it with a small piece of wood, then he turned to face you with a water skin.
He offered it to you with both hands, you noticed that he seemed apologetic and your breathing steadied.
There is only one bedroll, no extra weapons, no clutter.
One bowl. One cup. One blade.
He catches you looking around his space, a flicker of something passes over his face.
"Clan…" he starts, the word thick on his tongue. He gestured towards somewhere further into the forest, then he tapped his chest and shook his head once.
"Korr here." he says, there isn't loneliness in his voice. It's a choice.
He knelt near you, so close that your knees almost touch.
He watches you the way he did before, quiet and attentive, listening for sounds of pain watching your hands and reading what he can from you.
"Korr.." you say softly, repeating his name in the same orcish pronunciation that he had.
His face changes into something soft, the firelight reflecting in his brown eyes. Then you see how tense his shoulders are, his expression soft but its like he's bracing for a hit that never comes. His gaze lingers on your face, your eyes, searching.
His gaze isn't hurried, or invasive, but careful. Like he's trying to understand something without having the words.
He glances towards your ankle again, brow furrowing slightly, then he lifts his hand to tap his chest.
"Korr," he says, his voice steady, practiced. Something solid to hold onto.
You nod gently, slowly, with a warm understanding smile. His breath catches, barely noticeable, and his jaw tightens as he looks away a moment, then back at you.
Before you can speak, your stomach betrays you.
The sound was quiet, but in the stillness of the tent filled only with the crackling of fire, it might as well have been thunder.
Korr's eyes snap to you instantly.
He blinks once, then his brown knit in concern.
He moves instantly, in a smooth motion reaching for food set near the fire. He brings it to you carefully, holding it out with both hands as if it's important you have it. The meat is still warm from being by the fire.
"Eat," he says gruffly, there is no arguing with him.
He watches you closely as you do, when he wasn't looking at you directly it was stolen glances while he pretended to do other things.
The tension in his shoulders eases with every bite you take, only when you have finished and your eye lids flutter as you slowly lay down does he carefully drape a large fur around your shoulders.
It's over sized, heavy, and unmistakably his.
"Sleep." he murmured, a soft grunt.
The morning came slowly, you awake to warmth.
The firelight flickering low, the heavy furs still tucked carefully around you. Your ankle throbs dully when you shift, swollen beneath a wrap he must have fashioned for you sometime in the night when you showed discomfort.
He's awake already.
You feel his eyes on you as he's crouched near the entrance of the tent. His shoulders are relaxed, but alert.
The moment you stir he moves, he notices your discomfort immediately.
"Hurt?" he asks, his voice deep and rough.
You nod softly, and he frowns. Not at you, but at your ankle as if it personally disappointed him.
He approached you slowly, kneeling beside you. His hands are warm as he lifts your foot, he inspects the swelling with a seriousness that is usually reserved for wounds far worse. He presses carefully, watching your face now more than your ankle.
When you wince, he makes a sharp unhappy sound.
"No walk," he declares. He reaches for more cloth, and tightens the wrap just enough to give support without hurting you. And as if that isn't enough, he pads it with extra fur.
Satisfied, he pats it once more. Gentle and proud.
"Good." He says warmly but gruff. Then he gestures toward the entrance, and then to you.
"Stay. Back soon." You don't have time to argue, before he's gone. Slipping into the forest with quiet, powerful strides.
The tent feels different without him, it's larger and quieter. You take your time, careful as you shift in the furs letting your gaze wander.
Everything is simple, and has purpose.
He only had a few things on a table nearby, a blade meticulously cleaned, a bundle of dried herbs, a carved token you didn't recognize which was worn smooth by handling.
Near the edge of the tent flap, sunlight spilled in, illuminating a small patch of growing plants. Flower and herbs in soft colors and gentle scents, cultivated carefully.
He tends to them, and the thought warms you.
You ease yourself outside, leaning heavily on a branch for balance.
The air outside is cool, and fresh. You gather a few fallen blooms, some fragrant herbs, choosing only what's already loosened or plentiful.
Once back inside, you work slowly as your fingers weave the stems together in the way you remember from childhood.
It isn't perfect, it doesn't need to be.
You heard him before you saw him, his footsteps were heavier now as if he was carrying more weight.
His body freezes when he sees you outside in the furs, you had gone back outside to retrieve a few more herbs, his eyes narrowed with immediate concern.
"Hurt?" he asks again, sharper this time.
"I'm okay," you say softly, offering him a warm smile while holding up what you've made.
He blinks.
You motion for him to come closer to you, and he does.
He is cautious, curious, kneeling so you can reach him without having to stand straight. You lift your hands to gently tuck the flower and herb bundle into his thick hair, weaving it into one of the braids along the side of his face.
He goes completely still, and slowly his ears darken as if his green skin is getting red.
He doesn't move until you're done. Then he touches it, confused and careful.
"Me?" he asks.
When you nod sweetly with a kind smile, he grins. Wide and unguarded, like he's just been given something priceless.
He straightens immediately, his chest puffing just a little. He smells like smoke and forest, and then he holds out what he brought.
It's meat, wrapped in leaves to keep it clean.
"Eat," he says proudly. Then, softer, almost shy so you wouldn't hear, "Pretty," as he headed into the tent.
You weren't entirely sure if he meant the food, or the gift.
He insisted on cooking the meat himself.
You realize this when he gently takes the meat from your hands, making a small sound of disapproval when you try to help.
He gestured for you to sit, he presses his palm downward like the ground itself should obey him.
"Sit." he says, a stern look on his face as if he is upset that you are standing, and he nods once as if the matter is settled.
He crouches by the fire, his movements practiced. When the fat of the meat hisses into the flames, he jerks back with a startled grunt, then scowls at the fire like it's misbehaving on purpose.
"Hot," he mutters.
You smile at him and his actions.
When it's done, he brings you the best parts of the meat on a flat piece of bark, setting git carefully in your hands. He watches your face intently as you take the first bit, eyes wide with anticipation.
"Good?" he asks.
"It's really good." Your face shining with happiness at the taste of perfectly cooked meat
He beams at you, a wide smile on his face, you can see his tusks even more now.
"Good," he repeats, satisfied. Then after a pause adds, "I good."
You laugh softly, and he tilts his head, confused but pleased by the sound.
He sits across from you, tearing into his own portion with far less restraint. Grease or juice from the meat smears his fingers and jaw, he doesn't notice. However, he does notice when you wince slightly as you shift your ankle.
"No move," he says immediately. "Foot bad."
"Yes, foot bad," you agree, nodding slightly.
He nods vigorously, proud that you understood him. Then he points at himself.
"Me… strong." He says gruffly as he flexes his thick arms.
And it is not subtle, at all.
You snort a small laugh before you can stop yourself. His brow furrows.
"Funny?" he asks.
"A little." You reply with a small soft smile, as your eyes meet his you see the confusion swirl in his brown eyes.
He considers your response, then flexes again harder.
You laugh entirely with your chest.
He grins as your eyes meet again before you turn to your food, but his eyes linger on your face for a few seconds longer.
After you both finish your meal, he gestures around the tent, searching for words that clearly aren't there.
He points at you and then towards outside the tent, "Forest," he says slowly.
"Trap bad." The words are sharp, as he scowls at the memory of you in the trap.
"Yes," you say gently. "Trap bad."
"Trap…stupid," he adds decisively.
You blink at him, and then smile. "Yes, very stupid."
He relaxes, his shoulders rolling forward slightly, clearly relieved that you agree.
There's a long pause. He frowns again, looking towards the ground thinking very hard. You can almost hear the effort.
"Scared?" he asks finally, pointing towards you. His brow is furrowed with concern, and his eyes search your face and body language for answers.
You hesitate, then nod. "I was."
His face falls completely.
He moves his body closer, so close that his knee brushes yours. He doesn't touch you at first, just angles his body towards you and leans in, solid and warm.
"No scared now," he says firmly. "Me here." He points to his chest again, like before. Then to you.
"My- uh no…" He stopped himself, frustrated, waving his hand as his face scrunched up knowing that wasn't the right word. "Safe."
He nods, decisive, conversation over.
You realize then that this is as much reassurance as he can give. You look towards the fire and take a deep breath.
It's then that you notice and really realize how close he is to you.
He shifts his body, adjusting and settling slightly closer to you. You glance down towards your knee, and see his pressed firmly into yours.
He notices where you are looking, and immediately stills.
You wait to see if he will move.
He doesn't.
Instead, he clears his throat and looks anywhere but you, flustered; he's pretending the fire is suddenly very interesting.
You reach outwards to set your bark plate aside, having to stand slightly on your feet you wobble. His hand shoots out instantly, catching your wrist with a startling speed.
His grip is firm, protective- when he realizes how gently but firm he is holding you he freezes.
You freeze at his sudden warm touch.
Slowly, like he's approaching a wild animal, he loosens his grip but doesn't let go completely.
His thumb brushes your pulse by accident.
"Sorry," you murmur softly, your voice breathless.
He shakes his head hard.
"No sorry," he says. "Fall." He says, his other hand gesturing between you, your ankle, and the ground.
"I wasn't going to fall."
He considers this a moment, then shakes his head again, an unconvinced look on his face.
"Still," he says gruffly, but there's something else in his voice you haven't heard before.
There's a long pause. Neither of you move.
Eventually, he lets go and immediately moves back to where he was before, his cheeks darkened beneath the green of his skin.
He grabbed a stick and poked the fire a little too aggressively, feeling a little nervous and something new.
You smile to yourself.
You sit back in your spot by the fire, your knees close and touching, you shifted a few times trying to get comfortable.
Without sparing a glance at you, he pulled at the fur on the other side of him to cover you. When you glance up at him, a little surprised, he stiffens.
"...Cold?" he asked.
His voice wavered with tenderness as he tried his best to remain stoic and focused on the fire, which he now poked at with better effort.
"A little."
He nods once, satisfied, then stares very hard at the opposite wall like he absolutely did not do that on purpose.
You look down and see that the fur is slightly over his leg closest to you, and you adjust it slightly to give him a little more as your fingers brush his arm.
He definitely noticed.
He swallowed. Loudly.
You pull your hand back immediately.
"Sorry." You say worried that you have made him uncomfortable, and misread his words and actions.
"No," he blurts out, too fast, his head turning to face you. His eyes lock with yours, as he quietly says, "Fine."
There's another pause, another beat of shared awkwardness as you both look into each other's eyes.
Until, he reaches out.
Hesitant, but deliberate.
He places his large hand beside yours on the fur. Not quiet touching but close enough to feel the warmth they put off.
He glances at you quickly, before looking away.
"...Okay?" he asks, his brow is furrowed with a sense of concern. His kindness made your heart thump hard in your chest.
You nod, "Okay."
He exhaled like a weight was lifted from his chest.
You both sit together, close and warm, saying nothing. Then, as if realizing how close you are, he abruptly gets up.
"Uh- wood," he says, pointing outside, "Need wood."
You raise an eyebrow, "You got wood earlier." There's a slight question in your tone, but you are mostly confused by his words.
He nods vigorously, his gruff voice stammering out, "More wood." As if he didn't hear you, he steps out of the tent.
And he's gone, vanishing into the trees with impressive speed.
To Be Continued…
A/N: The next chapter will have more spice I promise!!
Word Count: 3,625
