Male orc (Damien) x reader (sfw) (Patreon)

Here's my orc boy Damien, who's a chocolatier (!) with a gender-neutral, bi reader. I really hope you like this one! I'll post it on my Tumblr soon, but this is an early release for you folks!

The reader has just broken up with their girlfriend, who wasn't really able to deal with the fact that they're into both guys and girls, but other than that, no warnings. 

Everything hurt. Your throat was raw, your eyes pink and puffy, your cheeks blotchy. You had been crying for what felt like hours in a quiet corner of the park – what had been your bench, where you’d shared your first kiss with her, and where you’d met every day for lunch. To say that you hadn’t seen it coming would have been an understatement. The words she’d used struck you more deeply than you’d care to admit, even to yourself. Nothing felt real, and everything hurt. 

Eventually you managed to scrape together the scraps of your pride and courage, and you pushed yourself upright, dusting your palms off reflexively on the front of your jeans. You’d always been quick to laugh and quick to cry, wearing your heart on your sleeve, and you’d been no slower to fall in love this time. But apparently two years of dating no longer meant anything to her, and she was heading back to your apartment to start clearing her stuff out. 

No way you wanted to go back there just yet. You trusted her just enough not to be vindictive and take anything that wasn’t hers, so you just wandered round town aimlessly with your hands in your pockets until you saw a sign swinging in the bleak autumn wind, and decided on a complete whim, to go inside.

You actually passed the shop every day on your way to and from the bus station, but you’d never really taken much note of it. Now, however, you saw the welcoming, softly-gilded front window and hand-carved sign, and decided you’d like nothing more than to duck into the beautiful chocolaterie out of the cold and perhaps even buy yourself some fancy-ass chocolates. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do after you had your heart broken after all?

Tastefully decorated in dark teal wood panelling, with temperature controlled glass cases and brass edgings, the interior was gorgeous. The décor trod the line between ‘ostentatious’ and ‘antique’ without ever tipping over into ‘pretentious’. Baskets of sugared almonds and marzipan fruits rested on the top of the glass cases, and pre-boxed packages were arranged in delicate pyramids. There was even a werewolf-friendly chocolate stand, laden with delicious, theobromine-free goodies. 

At the back of the shop, a massive marble counter stretched the width of the room, and behind it, the owner and his assistant were engrossed in their work. 

On the right, opposite the display cases on your left, was a fin-de-siècle style bar which had been tastefully divided into three levels to accommodate patrons of most sizes. Tall, gilt-frame mirrors lined the wall behind it, and bar stools befitting a range of customers dotted the length of it. There was a space for everyone, from the enormous, snow-white minotaur who sat reading a book at one end, leaning on his elbow and occasionally chatting with the owner, to the tiny goblin who sat at the other, lower end of the bar near the door, debating something heatedly with his human companion, who sat with her wheelchair tucked neatly to one side. Their intense discussion filled the room at that end, but every now and again they broke off, laughing, and sipped frothy mugs of chocolate.

You paused just a moment, a deep, sharp yearning twisting your gut as you watched the goblin reach his hand out delicately towards the woman he was with and let her take a bite of the chocolate from his slender, sharp-clawed fingers. His slate-grey skin looked like condensed shadow and his coal-black eyes glittered, his mouth full of sharp teeth smiling sweetly as she giggled and took it from him, leaning her elbows on the low bar-top. 

Already, you had no one to do things like that with, to be silly with, to share food and conversation with, and all because you liked boys as well as girls, and she hadn’t been able to deal with that. The memory of the last time you’d been able to do that with her lanced through your chest suddenly and you turned away, fighting unexpected tears. She’d truly broken your heart and you weren’t sure you’d ever trust anyone again. 

“Stop it,” you hissed to yourself, turning your blurry gaze to the rows of immaculately-laid out chocolates and truffles in the glass cases, all labelled in elegant cursive handwriting, with allergy warnings in little symbols. It was a beautiful, beautiful shop and the urge to scoff everything like a baby troll at a birthday party was suddenly almost overwhelming. 

By the time you made it to the end of the counter, you could plainly see that the owner was as beautiful, enticing, and delicious as the things he made. 

The orc stood at nearly seven feet tall, with a white apron stretched across his impressive chest and embroidered with the symbol of the shop in appropriately cocoa-brown stitching. He had his long hair pulled back off his forehead in a braid which then fell into a long, black ponytail down his back. Thick, tortoiseshell-framed glasses were slipping down the bridge of his nose, and he shunted them back up with a knuckle, barely pausing as he went to lift a huge bowl out of a bain-marie, first testing the temperature with a thermometer. Satisfied, he turned the temperature down a little, and then heaved the big bowl aloft as though it weighed nothing at all.

You watched, entranced, as he poured glistening, liquid chocolate over the bare marble counter, his assistant standing back with a smile as his boss set to work. Using a broad, flat, palette knife, the orc swirled it through the chocolate with the confidence of someone who had been doing that for many years, before scraping it with another tool into the centre, beginning all over again, cooling the chocolate gradually, evenly. 

His assistant, a tiefling with unusual, cloudy-grey skin and stunning, marbled black and white horns cast his gaze up at you for a moment. He wore his blue-black hair half-tied back in a bun, though some had slipped out of the knot and was beginning to hang into his astonishing, silver-blue eyes. He smiled shyly, long canines flashing, before turning back to watch the enormous orc at his work. You couldn’t fail to miss that his slim, lean body was peppered with beautiful, geometric tattoos, including one right over his throat and Adam’s apple and then down his chest beneath the collar of his shirt. It was only as you gazed at the gorgeous designs that you realised with a little jolt of surprise that his left arm was missing from just above the elbow joint, the shirt sleeve tied in a knot. 

Your attention was drawn immediately back to the orc, however, who checked the viscosity of the chocolate with an ostentatious scoop, somehow spilling nothing. He then repeated his routine: drawing it into the centre, spreading it out, drawing it in again and spreading it out All the while his thick arms – beautifully bared up to the short sleeves of his t-shirt to show incredibly toned and sculpted muscles – worked seamlessly without hitch or stutter, as fluid as the chocolate he was tempering. 

Once he was happy with it, he returned the chocolate from the counter back into the bowl it had come from with a few economical scrapes, mixing it in with the remainder. His gorgeous arms worked it with ease, muscles flexing and rippling, until he was again satisfied with the consistency. With a final check of the temperature, he set it back in the bain-marie and waved at his assistant, who smiled, nodded, and took over. 

Wiping his hands off on his already chocolate-smudged apron, he looked up and saw you watching him with obvious wonder in your still-slightly-pink eyes. He laughed then, a sound so kind and rich, warm and rough, that you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. 

“Looking for anything in particular?” he smiled, using a knuckle again to push his glasses back up his nose.

Kicking your brain back into action, you snorted. “Uhh, is it socially acceptable to say I’m looking for a pick-me-up for myself?”

He laughed, the corners of his warm, brown eyes crinkling. “Absolutely it is! That’s one of the reasons I started this place. Now, would you like to choose something, or perhaps you’d like me to surprise you?”

You licked your lips and then sank your teeth into your lower lip, thinking. His eyes were fixed on you, which was somewhat nerve-inducing but also rather exciting. Fuck it, you thought, and sighed. “Surprise me,” you said coyly.

“Alright,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes, which you now saw were actually dark on the outer rim of the iris and a warm caramel colour on the inside. “Any allergies or extreme dislikes?”

You shook your head. “Honestly, anything will do right now.”

A flash of concern flickered across his handsome face, and your stomach lurched wildly as his eyes lit up again, this time with empathy. Standing there, you felt small and fragile, and the desire to be swept up into those massive arms – ridiculous as it was – almost overwhelmed you. 

“Sit tight,” he said gently, “And I’ll bring something out to you.” 

He waved at the bar against the wall behind you with a massive hand, and as you turned to follow the gesture, the white-haired minotaur grinned at you. Even his horns were pale as cream, with just the very tips fading to a blue-grey. He had ice blue eyes, and a warm smile waiting for you as you took your seat. 

“You’ve not been here before, I take it,” he said conversationally as you wiggled inelegantly onto a slightly-too-tall bar stool so you could chat with him rather than sit on your own in the middle of the bar, which was lower. His white tail dangled down behind his seat, swinging casually from side to side, and he had propped his hooves on the low rung of his bar stool, and somehow, despite being easily a full two feet taller than you, and colossally wide at the shoulders, he was far more elegant than you could ever hope to manage.

You snorted a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

He blew out a friendly laugh through his nose, the smooth, silver ring glittering for a moment, and a white-tufted ear twitched. “People always get that look in their eyes when they first see Damien work.”

“Can you blame them?” you replied, adjusting your weight on the bar stool. “It’s amazing watching him work.”

“Oh yeah. See those awards up there?” The minotaur pointed at a series of framed certificates on the wall above the tiled lower section where the other two were working away in perfect harmony, safely out of the way of any splashes or mess. 

You nodded, intrigued. There were lots of gold stars and seals visible even at that distance.

“Our Damien only trained with the best chocolatier in all Paris he did…” the minotaur laughed, “A succubus by the name of Elurien. She taught him all he knows… And rumour has it, not just in the kitchen, if you know what I’m –”

“Nik!” the orc growled over the marble countertop. “Come on now…” He raised a beautifully sculpted, dark eyebrow at the minotaur, who only laughed. 

A deep flush coloured your cheeks as Damien raised his finger in mock threat at his friend, and you turned your gaze elsewhere. He was really very good-looking. You’d never been with an orc before, but you’d always found them very attractive. 

To distract yourself from his looks, you found yourself focusing instead on his assistant, unable to keep looking at the big orc without feeling self-conscious. You watched, fascinated, as the lean tiefling worked with great concentration and focus. He was making what looked like decorative bird cages in chocolate. With stunning precision he laid out the filigree design in semi-liquid chocolate, piping it onto a sheet of acetate, and then, using his cool fingers, and no doubt a little tiefling magic, deftly rolling it up until he had created a perfect cylinder of lace-like chocolate. Having only his right arm to do it didn’t seem to hinder him in the slightest, tucking the piping bag under his chin when he needed to squeeze a little more further down the bag. 

Damien obviously saw you watching the tiefling work, your eyes focused on the tip of the piping bag as he traced out filigree swirls for the bird cages. “Alexios is my development chef,” he grinned, slapping the tiefling on the back which inevitably made him mess up the very beginning of the next design. 

He looked up and raised a dark eyebrow before casting a look over his shoulder at you. 

“You’re both very talented,” you said rather lamely. 

“I’m just his assistant,” Alexios said in a warm, dry voice. 

“Rubbish,” Damien scoffed, grinning. “You came up with my latest best sellers!” he said, and he beckoned you excitedly over to a refrigerated display cabinet. 

There was something indescribably endearing about seeing someone so big being quite so childishly excited. Unable and unwilling to refuse, you slid off the bar stool – on which you’d only just got comfortable – and followed him round on the customer side of the counter. Hanging off a display tree were a myriad of the little bird cages, some in white chocolate, some in dark, some marbled, with a tiny, coloured fondant bird inside, sitting on a trapeze. 

“They are stunning,” you said. 

“Aren’t they!” Damien boomed, leaning back, hands on his hips. 

Alexios’ cheeks flushed a darker grey. “Says the guy who won an award for making an entire doll’s house out of chocolate…”

“What?” you asked, and it was the orc’s turn to look bashful. 

“That was a one-off,” he mumbled, turning away and getting back to whatever he’d been doing for you.

Alexios caught your eye over the counter top. “He made it for his little sister’s sixteenth,” he said. “It had chocolate furniture and marzipan food and everything. He ended up winning an award for it.”

You couldn’t keep the grin off your face as you saw the huge orc trying to make himself smaller, shoulders hunching as he kept his back turned to you. You took the opportunity to admire the way his long ponytail fell down the length of his spine, sleek and thick and shiny. 

“Well, like I said, you’re clearly both very talented,” you said. 

You returned to your seat, and Alexios to his work, and in no time, Damien was coming over to you with a little hand-made ceramic mug full of steaming chocolate. “Try that,” he said, “And if that doesn’t make you feel better, I’ll close up shop right now, and spend the rest of the day trying out different things with you.”

Something about the way he said it nearly made you burst into tears again, and as you raised your head to look at him, he blushed, but he didn’t break eye contact, only smiling encouragingly.  

Nik returned to reading his book, and you let Damien set the mug down on the bar for you. He then went back behind the counter and fetched a tiny saucer in matching glazed blue and grey earthenware, and gently set that down beside your mug. As he leaned across, he almost touched you, and you could smell the cocoa lingering on his olive green skin. 

“Cognac truffle,” he said. “You look like maybe you could use it…”

Swallowing thickly, you smiled and thanked him. 

“I’ll leave you in peace,” he said, “But don’t thank me til you’ve tried it, ok?”

You smiled weakly and he placed his hand quietly on your shoulder for just a moment. It was enough to set you off. Your lip wobbled, and then silent tears spilled down your cheeks. You turned away, embarrassed. 

“Hey now,” he murmured. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry…”

“It’s not you,” you sobbed, desperately trying to stop. “I literally just split up with…” you gulped, the words choking your throat. 

“Oh that’s rough,” he said. “I’m so sorry. Look, that’s on the house, ok? Take all the time you need.” You weren’t sure but it seemed like when he spoke that his ears went back like a sad puppy’s. “When you’re done, do you wanna come back and help me with some stuff?” Yes, his ears definitely perked up a little at his question, as though in hope.

“I… I’m not… I’m not sure I’d be any good…” you sniffled. 

He smiled, the silver cuffs around his beautiful thick tusks gleaming in the soft light of the shop. “Nonsense,” he smiled. “I think you’d be beautiful at it. Finish that first though, and then decide. Up to you.” 

He left you with another gentle touch on your back. His huge hand left a warm imprint that seemed to sear through your woollen jumper to your skin, leaving a lasting impression.

You sipped the hot chocolate and honestly it was the best thing you’d ever tasted. A warming hint of cinnamon with the deep sweetness of vanilla beans and cocoa made you moan out load and you forgot everything, even her, for as long as it took you to finish it. 

As you set the mug down for the last time, you saw him looking up at you from the other side of the counter. “Any good?” he asked, but it was clear he already knew the answer. 

“Ex girlfriend who?” you said, smiling. 

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he grinned. 

At his side, Alexios muttered something which you could have sworn sounded like ‘maybe not quite what you wanted to hear, boss…’ but before you had the chance to tell him that the cognac truffle had had more kick than a frisky centaur, the orc’s mobile rang, and he stepped into the back room to answer it. 

The doors had large glass circles in, and you watched curiously as he clearly began to argue with the person on the other end. At one point he ripped his glasses off his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing little circles there, alleviating tension that was building up rapidly in his handsome features. 

Alexios caught you staring as you returned the mug to the counter, and he sighed, taking it from you and putting it carefully in the big butler sink behind him. He turned back to you and said, “He’s got his own relationship issues going on…”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Look, let me pay for this, please,” and you glanced up at the chalk board on the wall. Not quite seeing anything that matched what you’d had, you drew out a note and laid it on the counter. “I insist.”

The tiefling looked at you for a moment, and then sighed, picking up the money and putting it in the til. “Alright,” he said, “But on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

He paused, looking shy but determined. “That you come back here again.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, “No doubt about that.”

He flashed you a grin. 

“Say goodbye and thank you to Damien, for me, will you?” 

He nodded. “Take care now.”

“I will,” you said, trying to be brave. 

Honestly, being at home in the now-empty apartment was awful. Everything reminded you of her, and you spent the entire evening browsing estate agents’ websites for apartments you knew you couldn’t really afford on your own. The rent was paid for this month, but next month you weren’t sure you’d be able to make it. 

Despite promising Alexios that you’d go back to the shop, you didn’t return for another week. After the shock of what had happened truly hit you, you had barely felt like leaving the apartment outside of work, let alone going outside and being sociable. But eventually, on your way back from work one rainy afternoon, you stepped into the shop on a whim.

Damien saw you immediately and grinned as you pushed the door open. 

“Hey!” he called the moment the little brass bell announced your presence. 

“Hey,” you returned shyly. 

“Good to see you again,” he said, dusting his hands off on his apron. “You come to help me this time, or to enjoy the peace and quiet of an empty shop?” he asked, looking around the deserted room. 

You shrugged shyly. 

“Fancy helping me dip these?” he said, eyeing a batch of fresh truffles to one side as he obviously spotted your discomfort. “Alexios is off with his new boyfriend today and I could really use a hand…”

“Isn’t that, like, against some kind of health and safety laws or something?” you asked playfully, shrugging out of your damp coat and dumping your work bag under the furthest end of the bar.

He hitched a lopsided smirk. “Not if you wear these gorgeously sexy gloves,” he said, waggling his fingers in a pair of his own latex gloves, “And agree to be my intern for the day.”

“Your intern?” you laughed. 

His smile was infectious. 

“Fine, fine,” you said. “I’ll do it. Though I should warn you, I’m not very artistic…”

“I don’t need you to make sculptures,” he said. “I just need you to dip these in that white chocolate for me. You think you can do that without eating half of them?”

“Half?” you smiled. “How about a quarter?”

“Done,” he chuckled easily, holding up the hinged counter-top for you to pass through. “Grab Alexios’ apron from over there,” he said, pointing at the dark green apron that hung on a peg in the doorway to the back room. 

As you slipped it over your head, you felt him standing close behind you and he took the strings at the back and murmured, “Here, let me,” his quiet, gentle hands tying a bow before you could object. Your heart began to hammer at the proximity of the big orc, but he was kind and sweet, and the gesture was oddly intimate in the confined space behind the counter. 

“Thanks,” you smiled, turning slowly. “So, show me what I’m doing?”

The rest of the afternoon passed in the blink of an eye, and it was well after closing time before you finally drew back from your work and cracked the tension out of your neck. 

“You did great!” Damien smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners again. “Would… Would you like me to walk you home?” he asked, eyeing the deepening sky outside. 

You turned, picking up your bag and jumped slightly as he appeared right behind you again, silent despite his big stature, and picked your coat up to help you into it. “Thanks,” you whispered. “Sure.”

He locked up the shop, nipping back inside briefly when he said he’d forgotten something, and once he was done, you headed down the nearly-deserted street together, your collar turned up against the worsening weather. 

“I should have grabbed an umbrella for you,” he muttered as you slid your hands into your pockets. 

“It’s fine,” you said. “I don’t mind the rain that much.” After another few paces you said, “Can I ask how you got into all this?” you said, gesturing vaguely behind you. “The chocolaterie, I mean…”

He laughed, a natural, beautiful, booming, rich laugh that made your own lips quirk at the corners. “Not the first job you’d think of for an orc, is it?”

You shook your head bashfully. 

“My mum and I used to bake all the time when I was a kid. When my mum died, my dad and I raised my lil sis, and I ended up doing all the little things that she used to do for Melody, and it turns out I was pretty good at it…”

“That’s really sweet,” you said, feeling something aching in your chest. 

He shrugged. “I enjoy it, and it means I get to meet nice people like you, so…”

“Even when we have mini meltdowns in your shop?”

He chuckled. “How are you doing, by the way?”

“Oh, you know,” you said, gesturing vaguely. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “I do.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he said heavily. “My girlfriend and I split up a few days ago.”

“Shit,” you murmured. 

Damien shrugged his massive shoulders. “It was a long time coming, you know?”

“No,” you said honestly. “When I got dumped I didn’t see it coming at all.”

“Ah, shit,” he said. “I’m sorry. I always put my big foot in it… Look, I’m not going to pretend I know what happened or anything, but…” he pushed his rain-spattered glasses up his nose one more time before apparently deciding to take them off altogether and tucking them into his breast pocket. His big brown eyes peered down at you from his great height as he went on. “I think she made a big mistake, ditching you… Her loss, you know?”

“I wish I could see it like that,” you said. 

He paused, and then said, “Let’s go somewhere and grab a drink and something to eat…?”

You paused, the rain sheeting down in a dreary mizzle around you as you stared at the toes of your boots for a moment. 

“No pressure if you don’t want to,” he began, but you cut him off with a shake of your head. 

“I’d like that,” you said. “Thanks…”

He grinned, his beautiful, thick tusks gleaming. “C’mon, I know the perfect place.”

He ended up taking you to this olde-worlde pub down by the river, and it was absolutely perfect. You shared a bowl of chips and drank a rather silly amount of craft beer, and chatted about everything from culinary school to family, and by the end of it, you’d both almost forgotten your heartache. 

Damien was big and muscular and sweet and funny, clever, kind and he had a wonderful laugh. You could have sat there for the rest of forever, listening to him and trying not to stare in wonder at the vast expanse of his chest and shoulders as he gesticulated with gentle hands and laughed a rumbling, warm laugh that made your insides ache. 

More than a little tipsy, you made your way back home afterwards with him by your side, his hands clasped politely behind his back. 

“Well, this is me,” you said as you reached your modest apartment block. “Thank you for tonight, and for letting me help out in the shop earlier too. I had fun.”

“My pleasure,” he said. He sighed suddenly and then started to worry his top lip with his tusk. 

“Damien?”

He huffed a nervous laugh. “I… um… I guess I want to kiss you,” he said, shuffling anxiously, “But I don’t want you to think it’s just a rebound thing… And, I don’t know if you’re even interested in guys, or orcs so… you know…”

Your heart erupted into a million spasming, fluttering butterflies, and you beamed up at him. “You can, you know,” you said. “I’d… I’d like it if you did.”

And then his big palms were pressing gently around your jaw, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones, and he lowered his head down to you. His kiss was gentle, almost chaste, and it was surprisingly easy to avoid his big tusks, simply because he was so much bigger than you. 

It was the kind of kiss you never wanted to end. It was the kind of kiss you’d not had in over a year, or possibly even ever. It was the kind of kiss that told you that you were beautiful, and loved, and valued, and brave, and kind, and everything you wanted to be, all in a breathless, brief moment. 

Stunned, you almost swayed as he pulled back. He ran his fingers through your hair just above your ears, and smiled down at you, brown eyes glassy and bright. “Can I see you again?” he asked in a hoarse, deep rasp.

You nodded mutely, then swallowed. “I’d like that,” you said. 

“Perfect,” he smiled. “You should get inside out of this rain. I’ll call you, I promise.”

“You need my number first,” you giggled, fishing your phone out. “What’s yours?”

He laughed. “Right,” he said, and dictated his number to you before taking yours down. 

He turned to go in a bit of an awkward rush, leaving you standing on the step into your apartment building, but you grabbed his massive wrist in your fingers before he did. His skin was warm despite the rain and his lack of a jacket. He had only his t-shirt on, and it stuck blessedly to every beautiful contour of his sculpted chest and arms. “Thank you,” you murmured, fighting off tears. “I needed this.”

“Me too,” he said with a smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

Before he left this time, he leaned down and put his hand behind your head, bringing his lips to the side of your head and leaving the softest, gentlest kiss on your temple before he went. His other hand went to your hip, near your jacket pocket but he didn’t hold you there. 

“Take care,” he said, and then he was walking away through the rain. 

You watched him go, dizzy with emotion, and finally let yourself into your apartment building. As you fished for your keys, however, your fingers brushed against something in your pocket that you didn’t recognise. 

Once inside your apartment, you drew out the mystery object from your pocket and discovered it was a small box of truffles from his shop. He must have grabbed it on a whim when he darted back into his shop, and slipped it into your pocket before leaving that night. On the gift label which hung from an elegantly-knotted gold ribbon, read the words ‘Forgive me for saying this, but these are not half so sweet as you. D.” 

Giggling, you tried one, and moaned aloud at how good it was. 

Already you couldn’t wait for your next meeting with Damien, and not just because of the sweet chocolates.