#count orlo x reader

[13atoms]

Anthology (Count Orlo x Reader)

There's someone in court distracting Orlo from his daily duties, who loves the written word as much as he does. 1.5k, fluff, F!Reader

📚📚_

There were very few things in the palace as predictable as Count Orlo. He rose in the mornings, he ate when food was presented to him, and he completed his work on time. When Peter teased him, he did not rise, and when he made choices he followed the most pragmatic route which still offered some kindness.  

He could name each person at court, how they were related to each other. He often didn’t know who was sleeping with who, or when cruel words were passed between courtiers, but he knew the things which mattered.

In each part of his routine there were a hundred variables each day, and he could cope with all of them.

Except for you.

When you appeared in the library, or sat beside him at dinner, or smiled at him as he stood beside Peter and suddenly made his hands shake. It confounded him, that he would look for you in every room he entered. If you were behind him on the staircase, he would grow self-concious of the way he walked, the words he spoke, the way he held his papers.

Gradually, his steady routine had become decentred, until finally he was altering it with the hopes he might spend a little more time with you.

It was one of those evenings, where sleep was too far away and work was too much of a chore. He wandered the corridors, waited for some crisis which never seemed too far away.

At each wide-hipped skirt flitting around a doorway, his heart skipped  with the hope it might be you.

Finally Orlo settled in the library, hoping that if he could not read, he might find some solace wandering amongst the books. Hoping against hope that you would be there again.

He was so set upon his wallowing for the evening, that when you were there, he hardly noticed.

Orlo had closed the door behind him and wandered halfway across the room, before he heard your soft voice.

“Good evening.”

There had been precious little opportunity to speak in private before tonight, and now it was happening, Orlo had no idea what to do.

“Evening.”

You were sat at the oversized study table, which he recalled Peter ignoring lessons at when he was a child. Around you were a dozen chairs, the ghosts of academics which no longer existed in this part of Russia. He picked a book from the shelves blindly, and fumbled to smoothly pull a chair free of the part of the rug it had become stuck in.

You looked up at him, a few chairs down from the one he had chosen, and Orlo fumbled for words.

“Do you mind if I sit there?” he asked, suddenly struck by the fear he was intruding.

“Not at all,” you replied softly, “be my guest.”

In truth, Orlo realised he had little interest in the history volume he had picked up, and the moments passed interrupted only by the scratching of your pen. Long minutes stretched by, and yet he did not grow bored. Instead, Orlo found himself fixated on the thought of his body so close to yours in space.

Of what might be in your head, whether it might chime with what was in his.

“What are you writing?”

You looked up in confusion, your forearm curled around the page protectively, and he bit back an apology.

“Hm?”

“You’re writing, I assume? If it is not personal, of course.”

“Oh, no. It’s… it’s poetry. Nothing good, I’m afraid, I just… I admire a great many poets –”

“Me too!”

Orlo regretted his interruption at once, it had seemed like a wild thing, trapped in his chest and fighting to get out. You smiled at him, and he thought from the crinkling of your eyes it must be genuine, before continuing.

“Anyway, I just… I thought I would never know if I was any good at poetry if I never tried it.”

“That’s wonderful.”

You chuckled, and Orlo found himself smiling along for no reason he could name.

“How are you doing, then? Trying it?”

With a shrug, you gestured to the page in front of you, and Orlo could see you were halfway through a notebook.

“I’m doing okay. It’s a puzzle, but I enjoy it. Truly, it’s nothing special, but I find it settles my mind.”

“Incredible,” he murmured, and you couldn’t help wondering if he was teasing you.

“Do you write?”

“Poetry? No!”

Startled, Orlo stopped attempting to read what was on your page, and instead found himself staring at your face. A prospect which induced his heart to beat even faster.

 “Could I read anything of yours?”

It was impertinent to ask. He had predicted the hesitation on your face, anticipated the moment you could freeze and turn your face away from him as embarrassment burned at your cheeks.

It was worth it, though, for the moment he watched you stand and pull a book from the shelves opposite the table. It was smaller than all the others, without an ornate cover, and as you thumbed through the pages Orlo could see it was entirely handwritten as many of the older tomes in the library were.

“This is my favourite piece,” you offered, handing the open book to him.

Orlo thought he would melt to the floor, holding his breath as he read, and you watched with an intensity he had never seen from you amongst the frivolities of court.

“I wonder if you studied under Dante himself?” he finally commented.

Orlo was delighted at your response, the fear you might misunderstand him entirely gone.

“Actually, I wrote something closer to his tone – though obviously incomparable…”

 As you flitted through the pages, a furrow in your brow, Orlo could only stare.

The evening passed in moments of silence and moments of laughter after that moment. You were selective in the pages you showed him, glancing nervously if his fingers strayed to turn a page.

Yet you trusted him. You returned to your words as he read, and laughed in delight as he praised your work. You had moved a seat closer to him, and brought the candles around both of you, and if Orlo focused for long enough he imagined he could feel the heat of your body in the cool night.

When the night finally grew too late, you excused yourself with a sincere regret that made Orlo’s heart ache with hope. He took the book to his room, and devoured it cover to cover, in a way only someone with a true love of a poet can.

Between each piece he thought, trying to imagine where your mind had been as you wrote it.

The tone oscillated between love and loss and distress and simple joy, from piece to piece and stanza to stanza, and some hidden part of Orlo felt voyeuristic to have such a sudden insight into your inner life.

Each page was written with the tempo of good poetry, a few dozen meticulously penned words, followed by a flowing stanza of more rushed handwriting – as though you were desperate to get the words onto the page as inspiration struck.

When he finally fell asleep, it was with a jolt awake, as he carefully removed your book from where it had fallen atop his sheets and placed it on his bedside table.

*

When Orlo awoke, there was a sealed letter on his desk. It bore no other markings, not even his name – though once the page was snapped open the handwriting seemed as familiar as his own.

Time is curious, how it hangs around us

Languorous when it seems abundant, and short when it is scarce

An hour of joy lasts barely a blink,

A second of sorrow long enough to wrinkle crows feet.

Time is not told by the clock, but by the heart as it beats.

Orlo, my days here are often meandering,

Filled with banality,

Yet I find time flies, when you are near me.

Once Orlo had finished reading, he sat on the chaise by the door, and he read again. By the morning light streaming through the windows. In the privacy of his bed, curled up against the pillows, pulling the paper to his chest once he had read. Finally, he put the paper down and rushed to the door, only to return and read it again.

When he found you, it was at the breakfast hall, your meal long abandoned and your eyes firmly set upon the main doors. He had taken a shortcut, and watched you for so long he interrupted the servers and feared you would catch him staring as they swerved, swearing, around him.

It would be a decade before Orlo acted as a proxy to help you publish your first collection of poems, but his decision was made in that moment. Once your eyes met his, the time flew by.

#is this techincally a drabble? #count orlo x reader #count orlo #count orlo fic #13atoms #fic #requested #this would've been half an hour back in the day #now it takes like 3 days #wild #If you have anything negative to say about the poem just know #I’ll kill this blog and then myself #ily requesting anon give me a shout if you want to be fwiends

[fanfickitchenette]

Friend of the Empress, Chapter Three

Orlo x Reader; Chapter Three-Rolling Balls and Finding Allies

Previous Chapter

You wake and consider the night before and what the future will be like in your friend's court once you are gone. Also, your translation skills need some serious work because what even?. You start to see the way of things and decide to stack the deck in Catherine's favor.

Note: if the word is underlined then that means you're hearing the word in Russian (which is not your native language) and you're not sure what it translates to. It just happens to be written in English here.

*no warnings I can think of for this chapter* BUT

TAGS for the story as a whole–eventual smut; talk of death, murder, SA (none in the story, just discussion); canon-typical violence; strangers-friends-lovers; angst; lots of platonic love; slow-burn

Word Count 3.6k

Chapter Three: Rolling Balls and Finding Allies

You wake up to the curtains being opened in your room and a quiet voice calling your name. Dilara is standing at the side of your bed, watching, as you blurrily scrunch open your eyes. The bed is luxurious, and it is tempting to simply roll over and resume your sleep. But you remind yourself that this will be your first day, and Catherine’s, in the emperor’s court. You stretch slightly before sitting up and greeting your maid with a smile. Other than a bob of her head she is silent.

            For a moment the two of you simply regard one another—or, rather, you regard her, and she regards the linen on your bed. “Good morning, Dilara. I trust you slept well?”

            “Good morning and yes, my lady. My sleep was fine. How would you like to start your day? I can have breakfast brought in for you or I could help you dress first. Whatever you’d prefer.” She makes her way to one of the wardrobes and opens the door to it, taking quick, small steps around the length of the bed. You lean slightly back on your hands and watch her. Catherine’s lady’s maid at home, Barbara, would shake you awake if you slept in. You became very accustomed to her sharp gray eyes glaring down at you while she would reprimand you for sleeping past midmorning. And her efficiency extended to Catherine as well—the older woman herding your blonde friend away from the salon where she’d read for hours on end before Lady Joanna could come to reprimand her daughter for willfully flittering her days away. Neither you nor she were ever late to a tutoring session or dinner event under Barbara’s watchful eyes.

            You suppose, pushing the sheets away from your legs to swing your feet to the floor, that Dilara must be new to her post. Barbara was older than you and Catherine both, a woman in her thirties when you were a child. Maybe Dilara was not simply used to being a lady’s maid yet. She seems to be barely twenty by a day, if that even. You decide that you will wait and see if she becomes more comfortable with you before you push her on it. Her silent attitude may just be a Russian custom for lady’s maids that is not familiar to you.

            “I’ll be fine to dress myself, Dilara. You could grab food and bring it to the room. Have you eaten yet?” She startles at this, and you can understand why. She isn’t used to the idea of spending time with you, instead rather waiting as the wallpaper waits for paintings to be hung upon it. Barbara, on slow days or early mornings, would break the fast with you and Catherine. It was something you enjoyed as it left the room feeling relaxed and you were able to go over the plans for the day at some ease. Lady Joanna frowned on it if it happened too often, but you are not Lady Joanna.

Taking a few steps from your bed to look out the window, you can see that there are plenty of servants flocking across the courtyard and grounds, military men standing and chatting by various pillars. The sun looks as if it has just stopped touching the horizon. With such movement at an early hour, you doubt Dilara would have had much time to eat before joining you. You glance back at her, standing on the opposite side of the bed as you, once again she just watches with wide eyes and thinned lips. “Have you eaten, Dilara?”

“Bread and water when I woke.” You nod in response, keeping your gazes fixed. This might be the first time she has not looked away immediately.

“And when did you wake? With the sun or before?” She hesitates to answer, shifting slightly.

“I believe,” Dilara answers, eyes still holding yours, “I woke about an hour or so before dawn. The candles burned down almost two notches by the time we blew them out with the rising sun. I help in the kitchens in the morning and stack items on the lawn for the afternoon court entertainment. Does this please you my lady? Did I not come to wake you soon enough?”

You shake your head in denial, wondering about the entertainment but putting a pin in it for now, “No, this time if perfectly fine. I enjoy sleeping in. I’d like you to bring a selection of food up with cutlery for two, if you would. I will dress in your absence.” You are glad she inadvertently mentioned that you might be spending time outside. You should be able to pick an outfit for sitting on the lawn. Maybe you will pack a book in a small handbag to carry with you as the ‘entertainment’ is unspecified.

Dilara dips you a curtsy but seems unwilling to go, “Are you expecting company, my lady? Should I ready the receiving room before I go?” So, you must be specific. You wonder if no Russian woman eats with her lady’s maid. It’s not as if you are going to the stables to eat with the serving men. Dilara will be your confidant by situation, and you intend to treat her as such.

“No, the second set will be for your use. I’m hoping to discuss the plans for the day and any upcoming events I should know about. I’d much prefer to do that while sharing a meal if we aren’t rushed for time. And could you possibly bring a selection of jams along? I’ve heard good things from my late uncle about some of the choices that Peter the Great had in his court for food and I’ve wondered if this emperor has kept up the same in his kitchen.” Again, she curtsies but says nothing else and swiftly departs. She looks over her shoulder twice, as though anticipating something that you can’t put a name to.

You attempt to shrug off her behavior and move to the wardrobe that Dilara opened. As you riffle through the dresses you brought (you only have enough to fill one wardrobe, not even touching the second) your mind drifts to your friend and the letter-writer in turn. You didn’t request to eat with Catherine as you imagine she and Peter will both need a lie in. Your mother was mostly tight-lipped on the subject, more of a realist who refused to sugarcoat her beliefs when she did speak, but she did tell you that there’s a period of time where recently married couples stay in their rooms more, sleep in later in the mornings and retire earlier at night. You’ve since put together that means vigorous rounds of sex in the beginning of a marriage. You do wonder at why it stops, if it’s as wonderful as some poets and Lady Joanna make it out to be.

You also wonder when you’ll be able to get Catherine alone and ask her about it. Maybe the two of you could have lunch together, privately, and discuss how it was. Was it earth shattering, was it all fumbling and awkward but turned passionate and all-consuming? Either way, you try to ignore that part of you that wonders if it was awful. If Peter’s disinterest in your friend would transfer to coolness in the bedroom.

You start to undress from your nightclothes, letting them pool at your feet as you pull the strings between your breasts that hold it tight. You’ve picked out your dress and shift for the day, a cool slate grey color that you’ll pair with a corset decorated with patterns of climbing ivy. The cut of the dress and bustle is elegant enough but shouldn’t be too garish for an afternoon on the lawn. You walk, barefooted, to the living room where the mirrored desk sits. As you work on managing your hair into the style you want it, which can be a long process depending on the day and need, your thoughts turn to the man who plagued your thoughts into sleep the night before.

You wish you knew more about him, even a name would be helpful. You could have asked Lady Georgina or Lady Elizabeth last night, but something warned you not to. Information is power, you do know that, and if people knew you were asking about him they might be able to turn it against you. You have no idea how, it’s simply a question, but you do not want more attention on yourself while Catherine settles in as empress. You will only have so much time with her, and you will not squander it by allowing petty snakes to inject venom into the situation. Lady Joanna would have you believe she is a lady of her own unique grace, and she is in a way, but you know quite a few nobles who act just as carefully catty as she can. May God forgive you for thinking so of your friend’s mother.

But the letter-writer seemed to be different than the people who stood around him last night. You’re not sure exactly what it was, but there was something you found in his countenance to be more welcoming than most. If somewhat awkward, as well. If he truly is the one who wrote Catherine’s letter then maybe he can be of use and solace to your friend when you are to depart. You hope you are wrong, that it’s just your nerves, but you believe that she will desperately need people to lean on here. Maybe you can ask Dilara about the emperor’s advisors, if she knows anything about them. But how to phrase the question?

Your hair doesn’t need much work to cooperate today, and you are putting the finishing touches on it when Dilara returns. In her hands is a handsomely filled tray, heaping with fruits, breads, and meats. You notice that on the two plates stacked on the side, are little pots of what you hope are jam. She sits the tray on the larger table between your two lounges. You go over and sit. For a moment she watches, not sitting to join you, before you gesture for her to sit across from you. Dilara does so, slowly. She places a plate, a cup, and utensils in front of you. A pause. Then she does the same for herself.  You nod in satisfaction and pour yourself tea.

“So,” you snag some sausage for your plate, Dilara following your lead, “What do we have on the social calendar for this week?” Your maid, carefully adding some golden-orange jam to a biscuit, replies.

“Well, I believe that the emperor has a party planned in two days’ time.”

Dilara informs you of the party, of rolling balls on the lawn that the ladies do most afternoons (you wonder what the objective is, it surely can’t just be rolling them on the lawn), and she tells you what she knows about the company the emperor keeps. You should never have doubted how much she would know. Your father used to have servants listen into his business partner’s conversations when he left the room. He’d say that it wasn’t his fault that so many noblemen saw them as accoutrements and not humans with awareness. That theirs was the folly that brought him leads and investments that he would’ve never had otherwise. You suppose that there’s some moral greyness there but, listening to Dilara speak, you know he’s right.

Lady Elizabeth, whom you met last night, is the emperor’s aunt through the former empress. She has her hands on many people’s pulses, very aware and active in the goings on of the court. Apparently she treats her servants well, (when Dilara tells you this, the word she uses to donate herself and the other workers doesn’t sound like the one you were reading in the translation books. You wonder if it’s a local term for servant and the like. The way Dilara rushes through that point makes you not want to question her on it, so you decide to talk with Catherine about it later.) and is generally well-liked among the people in the palace. She’s also known to be a bit odd—not that Dilara calls the lady odd, but you hear the implication. You’re relieved to learn this about her, that she may be a person that Catherine might be able to go to.

Lord Grigor is a childhood friend of the emperor and remains his closest friend to this day. Apparently, you can expect to see him if you see the emperor and vice versa. Dilara mentions that Lady Georgina is also close to the emperor and you feel relief again. If the emperor counts a woman as a close friend then all may not be lost between him and Catherine. Dilara tells you of Velementov, a heavy drinker but he sends money from his pocket to families of fallen soldiers when he can, and of Archbishop Samsa who climbed the clergy ranks quickly. That he didn’t receive his calling from God until a later age, but that Dilara seems to like him more than some of the other noblemen.

You try not to rush her, and she finally gets to who you’ve been waiting to hear about. “And, of course, there’s Count Orlo. He’s from somewhere in the south, apologies as I’m not sure where exactly,” she takes the final sip of her tea, relaxed back into the lounge as you are, “But he’s been here about a decade. He served the former emperor, Peter the Great. Everyone used to talk about how clever he was, but it doesn’t seem like our current emperor likes him much. I remember, right before the old emperor died, he shouted something fierce at Emperor Peter for hitting the Count during a meeting. But I shouldn’t have mentioned that,” Dilara is immediately on guard, “Please, don’t take that anywhere, my lady. I’m sure Emperor Peter had his reasons for it,  and they didn’t realize I was in the room. It’s not something I should be talking about.”

Beyond the name of some ladies, she doesn’t speak much more about the court after that. It’s disappointing that she won’t speak more on Count Orlo, she’d gone on more about most of the others, but at least now you have a name and a little something about him beyond his writing abilities. Dilara asks if you’d like to go out onto the lawn now. You didn’t realize how long the two of you have talked but the sun, not quite at the highest position in the sky, has certainly risen a bit. You follow her out onto the lawn, after grabbing Tom Jones and a small bag in which to carry it. You appear to be early, and you settle at a table under the canopy to wait and take a moment to examine the grounds. They’re certainly lovely, rows of trees in an orchard across the field in front of you, a forest beyond the carefully cultivated hedges around the palace grounds. The green of everything is vibrant and the Russian summer seems to be a refreshing heat rather than an overwhelming burn.

You’re just considering pulling out your book when the sound of women laughing reaches your ears. The servants around you start pulling balls out of crates and drinks start getting poured before the ladies even arrive. Even though it seems like you won’t be getting a private lunch with Catherine today, you are excited to see your friend at the front of the flock of women as they approach. On her right side, holding her arm and smiling while another noblewoman speaks is Lady Georgina. You nod to yourself, hoping that Catherine has been cared for in your absence. Now it’s your turn to meet the ladies of court.

Catherine sees you and her face lights up from within. You walk out to meet her. The two of you hug, Catherine having extracted herself from Lady Georgina’s hold at your approach. You smile at the other ladies, giving a barely there curtsy—in greeting, not in deference—and a specifically broad grin to Lady Georgina. You hope she can tell how grateful you are for her accompanying Catherine. “Good afternoon, ladies. I apologize for not greeting you all sooner. But now that that error is rectified, I hear we will be rolling balls?”

A woman you don’t know, wearing a rose taupe dress, furred shrug and a wig that is sitting more like a hat than a wig, gives you a broad smile and laugh, “We will have to show you how it’s done, Miss…I’m sorry I did not catch your name?”

You notice Catherine look at her sharply but push aside your friend’s reaction to keep the peace, “Lady Y/n L/n. May I ask for yours and for the name of the person who made you that wonderful dress?” Clearly the right thing to say, the woman’s tan skin flushes and the other watching ladies join in cooing over the woman’s fashion. Lady Svenska takes your arm to show you the balls while Lady Georgina reclaims Catherine’s arm. You note Marial walking over to stand near Dilara and attempt to engage your maid in conversation. You also notices that Marial is the only servant trying to chat. You wonder why, as it must be mind numbing to work and not chat in order to pass the time.

Rolling balls on the line is….rolling balls on the lawn. It’s horribly mind numbing but worse is the murmur Catherine gives you in a passing moment, “They cannot read and do not seem to want to,” before a thin, bird-like woman starts telling a tale of a hat she imagined up. You have been there too long, far too long with Lady Svenska fishing for compliments and then dolling out water downed versions in kind where the two of you sit on a small couch, before Marial says something as the balls are fetched, once again.

“Empress, you seem tired. Might I escort you to your apartments?” Catherine is quick on to take up the offer and you move to join her when Lady Svenska lays her hand on your arm, rising in your stead.

“Marial, you speak out of turn. You must wait for the empress or one of the ladies of court to address you. You cannot just speak.” Lady Svenska glances at you, “You are lucky to receive a serf I already trained. I know not how Marial was assigned to the Empress.” You glance at Dilara, her eyes firmly stuck to the ground as that word pops up again. What follows is a quick exchange between Lady Svenska and Marial. The servant is bitingly funny, and you find yourself biting your lip to keep from huffing out a laugh. It wouldn’t do to upset the court during your second day there.

Catherine and Marial manage to leave nearly an hour before you do. Lady Georgina joining into a conversation with Lady Svenska that you cannot pull yourself from with any kind of tact. Dinner is an impending thing, and you wonder if you will be able to dine with your friend or if fate will keep you apart all day. By the time you tell Dilara you would like to go back to your rooms, your good feelings toward Lady Georgina have all but evaporated. She does not seem as casually cruel as the lady hanging onto your arm but the intelligence in her eyes worries you more. You now doubt that she would truly be someone to stand on Catherine’s side.

You follow as Dilara leads you back to your rooms. Once you sit down inside the receiving room, you have decided what your next course of action must be. As much as you miss your friend, only a day into your stay, there are more important actions to be taken. “Dilara, could you send a message to someone for me? To ask if they would join me for a chat after dinner?”

Your maid, any relaxation around you earlier fully gone, nods and keeps her eyes down as she responds, “Of course, Lady Y/n. I can send a guard or go myself if you would prefer. I would sup in the kitchens if you would not mind.” You need to understand what a serf is but wish to not make her more wary of you. You will not ask her.

“That would be fine. I will write a message to be taken with a guard, you need not do it. After you’ve brought up dinner then you may take your time in the kitchens. After that, please bring some snacks I can offer my guest. Something for us to drink, as well. The night is yours after that.” You walk into your bedroom, parchment and inkwell sitting on the shelves along with your books.

“Very good. Can I ask who your guest will be, my lady? So, I might find a good drink to bring up?” It’s information. Information that can be shared or sold but you doubt anything in these halls would stay secret long. And there’s nothing nefarious or improper about your request.

“I’d like formally meet Count Orlo, if he has the time.”

#catherine the great #the great hulu #the great imagine #the great fanfiction #fanfic #count orlo x reader #orlo x reader #orlo is on the ace spectrum for sure #slow burn #friends to lovers

[praxeus-13]

Could You Help Me Fix It?

(Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3)

Pairing: Dhawan!Master x Timelord!Reader

Word Count: 2800

Summary: You wake up after The Master went through your mind, and finally get a proper reunion with your spouse.

Warnings: A little bit of swearing? Possibly?

Tag list: @hopefulfuturenovelauthor @geocookie21

A/N: Fun fact! I wrote most of this while at an airport/on a plane :) Also, this is the last part of the main series, but I might do some more one shots from this AU in the future!

(Orlo gif because I love him)

You came to slowly, first becoming aware of voices surrounding you, as well as a hand gripping yours. Then you started to wake up a bit more, your brain remembering recent events as though it was putting a puzzle together, until you remembered.

You remembered.

Immediately, your eyes shot awake, giving you the view of the medbay ceiling. Unfortunately, that was not the exact view you had been hoping for. However you didn’t have to look far to find what you were looking for.

To your right, Koschei laid sleeping. He was sat in a chair, though his body was half draped over your side, his hands clasped around yours. You were smiling, and though you desperately wanted to talk with him, you let him rest for a few more moments and simply enjoyed the view. Finally, you used your free hand to stroke through his hair (it was new, to you at least, and oh so soft) while the one he’d trapped started to gently caress his skin. He stirred, his face scrunching up in a way you found adorable. Then his eyes opened, and you could tell as his mind was adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings. You could tell the exact moment he remembered why he was where he was, as his eyes shot to your face and he bolted up.

“Y/N?” His voice held such a delicate vulnerability to them, an emotion of his that only you were privilege to witness.

“Koschei.” You replied with similar vulnerability, though you were more relaxed than him.

He didn’t waste another moment, climbing towards you quickly yet cautiously, clearly struggling to hold himself back from smothering you. On the other hand, all you wanted currently was to hold him in your arms, and be held in his in return. When he was close enough you collapsed into him, circling your arms around his torso and holding on as tight as possible, immediately he did the same. Your faces were buried in each other’s necks and neither of you were planning on letting go anytime soon.

Faintly -somewhere in the back of your mind - you noted several pairs of footsteps and voices nearby, though you didn’t pay them any notice. You must have started crying at some point, as your face and your lover’s neck were wet. Reluctantly, you pulled back in order to wipe your face dry, though Koschei beat you to it. His hands were rougher than the rest of his skin, callouses on his fingertips most likely from TARDIS maintenance. You loved them though, they felt right to you, all of him was perfect. Two centuries without him had left you yearning for him, for his touch, and now that you had it- had him- you would never let go again.

You were still crying, the tears wouldn’t stop coming, but you were grinning wider than you had in a very long time. He was the same, tears rolling down his face as he looked at you with a beautiful mix of awe and love. Hesitantly, still worried that this was all a dream and you would wake up back in that hell, you reached forward to stroke some tears from his face. Luckily he didn’t disappear, instead melting into your palm as he looked at you with such love.

He was different to how he had looked when you last saw him, obviously having regenerated as you had, though he was still so obviously Koschei. You’d missed him so much that your mind was a mess, not just because of Rassilon’s meddling, but having him right in front of you after waiting for so long made it difficult for your mind to decide what to do. However, it seemed your husband was not having the same problem, as he leaned in and caught your lips with his.

The kiss was messy and wet, but it was perfect. You’d kissed him a thousand times before of course, but this was your first kiss in this body, with him in his new body. It felt so surreal, so comforting, like the two of you were made for each other. He was what you’d needed all these years, and now you had him.

You couldn’t tell how long the kiss lasted, you couldn’t tell how long the two of you had been wrapped around each other, it may have made you a lousy excuse for a Time Lord right now, but all you cared about was Koschei. Once your respiratory bypasses started to kick in, the two of you separated only enough to catch your breath. Then your husband used two of his fingers to guide your chin up so you were looking him in the eyes.

“I love you.” He’d told you that a thousand times before, but you never got tired of hearing those words from him.

“I love you too, and I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, I never stopped searching, I never gave up hope I swear.”

“I could barely remember you, but I knew that you would find me one day.”

He kissed you again, short and sweet this time, though no less passionate. Then Koschei shifted so that he was leaning back against the wall the bed was pressed against, while you were sitting in his lap, both of you continuing your tight grips on each other.

You felt safe and content, though that feeling was momentarily broken by an unsubtle cough from elsewhere in the room. Both slightly startled, you and Koschei looked over to where The Doctor was stood with her latest humans, Dan and Yaz if you remembered correctly.

“Hi Theta.” You greeted your old friend.

The two of you had gotten off to a rough start, back in the Academy Theta had been jealous of you, had seen you as a threat to his and Koschei’s friendship and had tried once to separate the two of you. However, Koschei had been rather adamant that the two of you get along, and you had slowly befriended Theta.

Over the years that friendship had weakened but never died. You were by your husband’s side throughout everything, of course, but you were never above helping or thanking Theta when you saw fit. He - or she now, you supposed - had always returned the favour.

“Good to see you again, Y/N.” She nodded her head at you.

Koschei’s grip tightened around you, and you relaxed further into him, reassuring him that you had no intention of going anywhere away from him.

“Hungry?” The Doctor half-yelled, giving you the impression that this was a rather socially-awkward regeneration of her’s (more so than usual).

“I could eat.” You nodded at her, though your eyes were focused on Koschei’s hands as they held your own.

“Great!” Theta clapped her hands together, “I’ll just go make something for you then!”

You may have been surviving on scraps of whatever you could fine for the last two centuries, but you knew you would never be able to stomach Theta’s cooking. However, Yaz must have seen the panic in your face.

“Don’t worry, she’s banned from cooking, Dan and I’ll make something for you.”

And then, you and your husband were alone again.

“How are you, my love?” He asked.

“Tired, hungry, but very happy.”

He hummed at your answer and pressed his face into the nape of your neck.

“That’s good, just rest now, I’ll wake you when food comes.”

And so you did, falling to sleep was surprisingly easy when you were safe in your lover’s arms.

——

“- gonna have to tell them at some point.”

“I will, didn’t you hear me? Just not right now.”

As you slowly came to once again, you could hear the all-too-familiar bickering of Koschei and Theta.

“Mmfph, shhh, I’m still trying to sleep.” You grumbled at them, keeping your eyes shut in hopes you could hold onto sleep.

Your plan was quickly foiled by your husband, who decided to start peppering your face with kisses, causing you to open your eyes so you could see as you tried to push him away. Of course, you didn’t want to actually push him away, you wanted to hold him close and never let go.

“Morning, my love.” He greeted you once he decided he’d kissed you enough.

“Morning. What were you two bickering about this time?” You queried, eyeing The Doctor, who was currently pretending to examine medical equipment in hopes to make herself disappear - obviously still uncomfortable with blatant displays of affection.

“Nothing you need worry yourself about, my darling.”

The look he gave you was contrary to the statement, and you knew that he’d tell you what it was about later - when the two of you had some privacy.

The Doctor coughed, gaining you attention “Hungry? Yaz is cooking breakfast right now so I can go and get you some if you’d like.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” You told her, and she nodded in reply, swiftly exiting the room with one more meaningful glance at Koschei.

Your husband completely ignored her, instead opting to climb into the bed behind you so that your back was held against his chest. You hummed in appreciation, tilting your head back into his neck.

“Going to tell me what she was on about now?” You asked in a playful tone.

“Mmm, The Doctor wanted me to update you on what I’ve been up to while we were separated - mostly the more recent events.”

You didn’t reply verbally, instead sending him a mix of curiosity and reassurance telepathically.

Koschei sighed, then held you even closer, before he spoke. “I destroyed the cities of Gallifrey, all of the Time Lords and most of the regular Gallifreyans - I may have gotten a Shobogan or two, but they weren’t my target. “

“I sort of presumed you would one day, what with your history of destroying planets.” You half-joked.

Honestly the loss of your home didn’t hit you hard, you’d never been close with your family and they’d disowned you centuries ago for choosing to stay loyal to your husband. You were more surprised that the planet was still standing, that he’d only targeted the Gallifreyan settlements.

“I suppose the question to ask is, why?”

“When I regenerated into this body I took a trip to Gallifrey to look for you again, it’d become habit whenever I regenerated. I decided to have a look through the Matrix, I spent days there, endlessly searching through all the files. I didn’t find any trace of you, but I did find something else.

The Time Lords lied to us, about our very creation. I’ll share the memories with you when you’re feeling better, but the short story is - they stole regeneration from a child. Experimented and forced a child to regenerate over and over until they finally understood, until they replicated it themselves.”

As he was talking you noticed how upset and angry he was, and subtly sent him a wave of calm and understanding in your minds.

“That child was Theta. The Time Lords took her memories an unknown amount of times and forced her to regenerate over and over… I had to destroy Gallifrey, the Time Lords had caused too much harm, the drums, your memories, the wars. Our very existence is built on the suffering of a child. Gallifrey had to die.”

You shifted in his arms so you were able to face him properly, so he knew you were truthful when you said “I understand.”

He pulled you in for a proper hug, and you felt his relief and love wave through your mind. Admittedly, you weren’t too upset with the loss of your home planet. It hadn’t felt like home for many, many centuries - not helped by the whole of Time Lord society outcasting you.

I’m with you through everything.

——

Much to your dismay you were forced to stay in the medbay for two more days before you were released, as both The Doctor and Koschei had insisted on ensuring your mind was okay. In the end it wasn’t too bad, as you spent most of the time cuddling Koschei, but you still felt the need to complain a little as it would have been nicer to cuddle with Koschei on your own TARDIS. Once you were finally let out of the medbay you were eager to leave, it’d been great to see Theta again, and her friends were nice as well, but all you’d wanted to do since you got your memories back was curl up in the library of your TARDIS and catch up with your husband.

Yaz and Dan had been very kind throughout your stay, even if it was obvious that they were a bit wary. Yaz especially seemed to steer clear of your husband, and you’d added it to your list of questions about what he’s been doing during your separation. Still, both of them were stood in the console room with you as you were preparing to say your goodbyes.

“Thank you for everything Doctor, truly, and thanks to your TARDIS for actually finding me.” You gave one of the pillars a little pat, getting a whirring noise and a brightening of lights in response.

The Doctor smiled at you almost bashfully, rocking back and forth slightly on her feet. “Anytime, I’m glad you’re safe and well.”

Koschei hummed and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He wouldn’t thank her, not in front of the humans, but The Doctor knew he was grateful. You’d probably convince him to send her a gift at some point in the future.

“Yasmin, Dan, it was nice to meet you both.” You nodded at them.

“You too.” Yaz replied with a smile, while Dan simply nodded his head back.

Your husband started pulling you away from them and towards the doors, clearly deciding that it was time to leave, causing you to laugh a little.

“Alright, we’ll probably see you around, thanks again for everything.”

Koschei opened the doors and dragged you out while you waved goodbye, still laughing at his antics - stars you’d missed him.

“You’re too polite sometimes my love.” He told you in between kisses once The Doctor’s TARDIS doors were closed.

“Well one of us has to be.” You snarked, before kissing him back enthusiastically.

A few minutes later the two of you stumbled into your TARDIS, still love-drunk on each other’s kisses. When you finally moved your gaze away from your lover you grinned wider. The TARDIS interior wasn’t exactly the same, you hadn’t expected it to be, but it was still very similar to how it had been two centuries prior (at least for you). It was a little messier, papers and books strewn out all over the floor, but you’d grown accustomed to how messy Koschei could be when he had a project going on. Looking closer at the papers and books you realised that the project on the floor had been his attempt at finding you. Maps of different sectors of the universe were dotted around the place, many of them having various markings and writing on.

A tear ran down your face and jolted you from your observation, you hadn’t even noticed you’d teared up. Koschei was already wiping the tear from your face, though another fell soon after. In your mind you projected your emotions to him, your upset, your love, to make sure he knew just how much you appreciated and loved him.

——

Hours later the two of you were curled up in the library - which hadn’t changed in the slightest - curled together in front of the fire. Koschei had helped you bathe and fully clean off the filth from your previous residence earlier, giving you a haircut afterwards. Then you’d gone through your shared wardrobe in order to find something more comfortable to wear, in the end settling on some casual smart trousers and a button-up shirt. You’d found one of your old coats as well, it was similar in style to The Doctor’s current one, though it was a dark purple with golden constellation patterns on the back, and it seemed that your TARDIS had altered it to your current height.

Now the two of you were simply enjoying each other’s company, something you’d both craved for centuries. As you held each other Koschei started to hum. It was an old tune, your tune, the first one you’d danced to on your wedding night. Your eyes started to close as you felt safe and completely content for the first time in recent memory. You didn’t feel worry as you started to drift into sleep, knowing that Koschei would keep you safe whilst you slept, and he’d still be there when you woke up.

“Goodnight my love, sleep well.” He whispered to you, placing a kiss upon your forehead.

You smiled, snuggled closer to him, and finally let yourself rest.

#dhawan!master x you #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #the master x reader #the master #doctor who reader insert

[hauntingcryptids]

Characters I Write For

BBC Ghosts

None for the moment because I don’t feel inspired, but I am working on past requests.

Doctor Who

All NuWho Regenerations of The Doctor

Canon Regenerations

Special Regenerations (Ex. Ganger!Doctor)

Alternate Universe Regenerations (Ex. Dhawan!Doctor)

All NuWho Regenerations of The Master

Canon Regenerations

Special Regenerations (Ex. Doctor!Master)

Alternate Universe Regenerations (Ex. Whittaker!Master)

The Doctor x The Reader x The Master (any NuWho regenerations)

All NuWho Companions

Good Omens

None for the moment because I don’t feel inspired, but I am working on past requests.

Our Flag Means Death

None for the moment because I don’t feel inspired, but I am working on past requests.

Stranger Things

Argyle

Robin Buckley

Jonathan Byers

Chrissy Cunningham

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Nancy Wheeler

Steve Harrington x Reader x Eddie Munson

Miscellaneous Other Characters From Various Medias

Jareth The Goblin King from Labyrinth (Because this man is the blueprint!)

Loki from Marvel

Sylvie from Marvel

Peter Maximoff from X-Men

Joseph Quinn Characters That Aren’t Listed Above

Prince Paul from Catherine The Great (I still need to watch it, but you can send me some ideas)

Arthur Havisham from Dickensian (I still need to watch it, but you can send me some ideas)

Enjolras from Les Misérables (I still need to watch it, but you can send me some ideas)

Tom Grant from Make Up

Ralph from Timewasters

Sacha Dhawan Characters That Aren’t Listed Above

Doctor Valentine from Allelujah!

Doctor Sharma from Dracula

Count Orlo from The Great

Manmeet from Outsourced

No requests for the moment just because I don’t feel inspired right now, but I am working on past requests.

If there is a character that you are curious if I write for that isn’t on this list, please message me or send me an ask!

I am also going to list my Requesting Rules here. Please read those before requesting!

#ghost's posts #characters I write for #doctor who #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor #the master x reader #the master #stranger things #stranger things x reader #argyle x reader #chrissy cunningham x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #robin buckley x reader #jonathan byers x reader #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #jareth x reader #jareth the goblin king #labyrinth x reader #loki #loki x reader #sylvie #sylvie x reader #x-men #x-men x reader #peter maximoff x reader #tom grant x reader #tom make up x reader

[noforkingclue]

Hi may I requested a Count Orlo x reader where she is a vampire type like the ones in Interview with a vampire. Where reader family comes to court to visit her, calling Louis father lestate uncle Claudia sister with them being protected of reader. Everyone think they are weird but Orlo finds out the truth. Please and thank you u don't have to, message me if u want something clear up

Sorry but I don’t write for count orlo

[whimseas]

Stay

(Count Orlo x Reader, 1.7k, angst and fluff, friends to lovers, set during season 1)

This has been sitting in my inbox for ages but I finally found the motivation to finish it. A huge thank you to @13atoms for betareading x

On a snow-swept winter’s night, you packed your things in secret and quietly slipped out of Russia’s finest palace.

Your carriage was waiting across the south lawn, discreetly parked on an old lane near the forest. You could see the glow of the lantern in the distance, a matched pair of carriage horses pawing impatiently at the ground.

Taking a steadying breath, you looked over your shoulder to gaze up at the palace, one last time.

You couldn’t help it. A tear began to trace its way down your cheek.

For months you’d been working for the Empress and her small, handpicked group. Together you had hatched a plan to overthrow the Emperor and bring Russia to a new age, a shimmering future of light, reason, and progress.

You had been a loyal partner-in-treason to the Empress. You helped rally support for her and helped her win over the Ladies of the court. You also introduced her to Count Orlo, who had since become her most trusted ally. You believed in bright-souled Catherine and you believed in her golden dreams, however high they might reach.

In a way, the coup had given you a sense of purpose you’d never felt before. A sense of destiny.

As the day of the coup drew closer, however, you found yourself growing more and more nervous. Doubt plagued you. What if the coup failed? What if you fumbled it, somehow? What if all this hope, all this dreaming, all this brilliant, careful planning – what if it all amounted to nothing?

Fear had you by the throat. No matter how you tried, you couldn’t find the courage to see it through. Tonight, the night before the Empress’ coup, you’d made a snap decision to leave the palace forever.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, leaving your friends like this so suddenly. But it was better this way — better for everyone, you told yourself. Nerves had no place in a coup, of that you were certain.

You’d miss Orlo, most of all. Over the past year he’d become a dear friend to you, and the two of you had spent many happy hours in the library together, sharing a candle and a stack of books. He’d always have a shy smile and a friendly word for you, and you adored him.

Then you’d watched him change over the months, unleashing a man he never knew lived within him. He was stronger, somehow, at the core of himself.

If only you could say the same about yourself. You felt the opposite — weaker, spiritless, as though the light that had kept your mind aflame and heart aglow this past year had suddenly gone out.

Tonight you’d left a note for Orlo on your nightstand, a single line written across the middle:

I’ll always remember you.

Something heavy settled on your heart. Quickly, you pulled your mind from the past and set it firmly in the present. The wind was picking up now, bringing with it a chill that crept into your bones. Shivering, you tightened your coat and hurried your steps toward the small fine carriage in the distance.

Just then a sound came from the palace, a door bursting open, followed by quick footsteps chasing after you.

"No – wait –"

You glanced over your shoulder and froze. "Orlo?"

He dashed in front of you and blocked your path with his palms raised. "You must not do this –"

"How did you –" You blinked. "You read my letter?"

He was a little breathless from his sprint across the snowy palace lawn. "Yes," he panted. "And – and I ask you to stay. Stay and see this through." He leaned forward urgently. "We are partners in this, you and I. Remember? We must act together if we are to succeed in this."

You stared at him for a long, silent moment, pausing at the worry – at the plea – in his eyes. Somewhere in a distant part of your mind, you could feel your iron will begin to melt. Listen to him, an inner voice urged you.

Then you took that voice and buried it somewhere deep down and far away.

"I can't," you admitted quietly. "I'm sorry."

With that you swept right past him and made for the carriage, faster this time, hoping he would not follow.

It was a vain hope, you realized. He was at your side in an instant, his long black cloak billowing after him.

"But – but why? Why, now, when we are this close – "

"Because I can’t!"

You spun on him so quickly that he nearly stumbled into you. "I can’t do this," you spat at him. "I'm not brave, not strong enough. We could fail, we could lose our friends. I - "

You couldn’t help it. The tears came, hot quiet ones that filled your eyes despite your best effort at control. You dropped your face into your hands, a sob breaking from your throat.

Just as you turned away, Orlo caught your hand. With urgent fingers, he pulled you a step closer.

He had the loveliest eyes.

"Breathe," he said.

You looked down at your hand where it lay cradled in his. And you breathed.

The moment stretched on, broken only by the sound of the wind in the treetops and your own unsteady breath. Only when your breathing softened did Orlo warily relax his posture, letting his hands return to his sides.

You wiped a shaking hand across your eyes. "Orlo, aren't you .. frightened at all?"

He hesitated for a moment, then his gaze shifted away to a spot near his feet. "Yes," he said quietly. "I'm scared of failing. And sometimes of winning, of what it will take to win."

He took a breath. "Fear has haunted me all my life, but I am forever done running from it."

You’d never seen him quite like this. His dark eyes were determined, resolved, and there was an edge of steel in his soft voice you’d never heard before. For just a moment, it silenced your fears and made your panicked heart sit still.

"Remember who I used to be? I stepped softly, tiptoeing through life, never realizing I could be more than what I was. A coward – "

"You were not a coward."

"There is one thing I am sure of," he said. "I wouldn’t have come as far as I have, were it not for you."

You could only blink at him, stunned and touched, forgetting the snow and the cold in the sudden warmth his words gave you.

Then he took your hand once more. His eyes shone strangely under the glowing winter moon. Were those tears?

"Please, don’t go," he whispered hoarsely. "Stay. I – need you."

Suddenly you couldn’t breathe for the emotion flooding your chest. He needed you — as desperately as you needed him. You couldn’t see it before, past your own pain. Now the truth was clear and perfectly in focus, as if a bright light had been thrown onto it.

You opened your mouth to say something - you had no idea what - but words would not come. Instead, you rushed forward and pulled him into an urgent embrace. His arms came up to hold you just as tight, just as desperate.

And for the first time in what seemed like forever, you didn’t feel quite so alone.

*

It was a long time before you pulled apart. After, Orlo waved the carriage onward and led you out of the snow, to his rooms where the fire burned brightly in the hearth. There you talked until the candles burned low, until pearly moonlight streamed through the high-arched windows.

And every now and then, you felt yourself smile. A real smile that spread over your face, mind, and soul. You could hardly believe that just hours ago you had tried to run away, that you'd been so blinded by fear and desperation.

Now you’d made some peace with yourself, had at last caught your balance, and nothing could dampen your renewed hope. You were ready to face whatever tomorrow held, with your dearest friends at your side.

At last, the world felt right-side up again.

Almost.

You smoothed out your skirts and took a breath. "I feel I owe an apology for earlier tonight. I didn't want to abandon anyone. I…" You sighed. "I was terrified."

Orlo’s expression held nothing but quiet understanding. "Believe me when I tell you we are all frightened," he said. "We just have different ways of showing it."

You found comfort in those words. You hadn’t realized it before, but you found comfort in a lot of things this bookish, rather sweet fellow did for you. How he’d fretted for you, watched over you, and tried to keep you safe..

His friendship was a gift beyond price. He’d given you someone to turn to in the world.

You took his hand in yours. "You'll do so much good for others."

"We will," he whispered, soft but certain. "Together."

At that moment, the clock on the mantel chimed. It was past midnight. Today was the day, the day Empress Catherine would hold the reins of Russia in her hands.

You couldn’t wait.

"Today is the day." You squeezed his hand, smiling. "The future is bright, Orlo. I can feel it."

His own smile was small but warm. "As can I."

Then he leaned closer, ever so slightly, and there was something a little thrilling shining in his eyes.

"We’ll win."

You nodded, sure of it. "Of course we will."

The moment hung in the air. Then, slowly, his eyes fell to your lips and lingered there. For an eternal fraction of a second, you thought you saw something in his gaze, something ... more.

Then he took your face between his hands and kissed you. Softly, each touch a caress on your lips. You slipped a hand through his night-dark hair, clinging to him, pulling him closer. He melted into you and the kiss deepened, his mouth hot and sweet and giving all at once.

When he pulled away, he had very little breath left. Just a little bit, enough to gasp. "Stay – stay with me tonight."

Your lips lifted in an answering smile. "I think I’m falling in love with you."

Then, before you could take another breath, your lips met again.

And he threw everything in his heart into that kiss.

#count orlo #the great fanfiction #count orlo x reader #sacha dhawan #the great #the great imagine #request

[kinglivv]

The New Empress

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: One night, the Master - while pretending to be Count Orlo - asks you if you'd like to be his Empress when he takes over Russia.

Warnings: Implied smut, discussion of murder

A/N: I'm only on episode 3 of the Great so please DON'T spoil it for me >:(. This is just short a lil idea I had which I thought I'd test out. I'd totally be up to doing something else along these lines if you guys like it!

Also, @koschei-taylor, the Marial insult is for you babe x

"This place is amazing." You tell the Master, rolling onto your back to stare up at the gold and green bed canopy hanging over the two of you. The silk sheets shift against your bare skin as you do so, and he makes a low whining sound at your pulling away.

"It's 18th century Russia. It's not that great." The Master replies dryly, but you can see in his face when you glance over at him that he does hold some appreciation for it. He'd always been a great lover of beauty and luxury, and he was entirely in his element, surrounded by old oil paintings and plush pillows and leather-bound books.

"It must be nice here." You sigh, looking over at him.

"It's primitive." He replies, wrinkling his nose. "Russia's the worst in this century, you know that? Besides Britain. All they do here is drink and fuck and start pointless wars."

"That doesn't sound too bad actually."

"You know they make fun of me because they think I'm a virgin?" He says incredulously.

There's a silence as he waits for your outrage, but to his annoyance you simply burst out laughing.

"You - you, the Master," you splutter, "are getting made fun of by a bunch of humans and you're just... letting it happen?"

"I just need to execute my plan and then I'm done here! I don't need to be concerned over childish insults!"

"Yeah," You snort. "And how's that plan going, by the way? It's getting lonely in your TARDIS."

The TARDIS itself, disguised as a mahogany wardrobe in the corner, grumbles in agreement.

"It's going... interestingly." His hands move behind his head as he thinks. "They're all falling for Count Orlo's innocent and weak façade - granted, they do recognise he's intelligent."

You glance over at the glasses on the nightstand. "Orlo? Is that what O was short for?"

He ignores you. "The Emperor's new wife, Catherine," he continues, "seems to be quite enarmoured with Orlo. She constantly wants to talk about books and literature and loves to express the lengths of her disliking towards her husband. She even tried to seduce me the other night."

"What?" You squeak, elbowing him.

"Ow!" He rubs his side. "I didn't let her touch me! Just acted flustered, the way Orlo would and practically ran from the room. Anyway - now she's planning a coup!"

"A coup?" You raise an eyebrow. "There was never a Russian coup in the 1700s. I've read the books."

"But there will be." He grins devilishly, and his hand reaches out, wrapping around your waist and pulling you back into him. "In the original timeline, the current emperor goes on to live a long life, and his heir takes over from him when he dies. But in this new timeline -" He props himself up on his elbow as he begins to get excited, eyes sparkling and a hand playing with your hair. " -in this new timeline, his wife Catherine will over throw him, and she will become Catherine the Great."

You gaze up at him with a smile on your face.

"Disrupting Earth's entire timeline! That sounds magnificent."

"Exactly! I've already gained her trust and she's enlisted my help in the coup, so that's the tricky part already done."

"How many people is has she got on board with it?"

"So far it's her, me and her lady's maid. A little thing called Marial - I fear I'll have to get rid of her. She's terribly annoying and outspoken."

"Sounds like my kind of person."

"Anyway. Here, look -" He sits up and reaches to his bedside table, pulling out a large stack of papers. Spreading them out on the quilt in front of you both, you sit up to examine them, pulling the sheets with you.

"You've planned it well," You compliment, sifting through the papers which hold the extremely detailed plans to some sort of Russian Revolution. His arm wraps around your waist as he watches you admire his work. You pause when you reach one, titled 'Y/N'. "What's this?"

"Ah - they don't know about that part of the plan yet," He grins. "When Catherine is in power, I'll be one of her closest advisors. Resultantly, when I kill her and all her heirs, I will be the one taking over. I'll make sure of it. And so, I'll need an... Empress."

You look up at him, a smile slowly forming on your face.

"What do you say?" He asks. "A few years together in 18th century Russia? Cock everything up a little bit? You'll be one of the most powerful people in the world - you can start as many wars as you want, have all the money you could ever need. We can destroy Earth's weak timeline irreversibly from the inside. It'll be like a... romantic getaway."

"Darling," You lace your fingers with his and he beams down at you. "I'd absolutely love that."

Taglist: @truthbehindthemysteries @queerconfusionthings @xenteaart @actuallyanita @ateliefloresdaprimavera @persephonehemingway @fabulous-jj-style @anteroom-of-death

#doctor who #the master #series 12 #sacha dhawan #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #doctor who fanfic #dhawan!master imagine #count orlo #count orlo x reader #the great hulu #dhawan master x reader #dhawan!master x you

[hyperfixation-writings]

the gentlest of nights

Count Orlo x Reader

word count: 506

TW: none

You woke with a deep breath. The familiar musky smell tinged with soap filled your lungs. You could feel the way your legs were tangled with his and how your arm was thrown across his chest and you could even feel the slow heartbeat through his thin nightshirt.

You sleepily blinked your eyes open.

It was still dark outside. Through the window you could see the crescent moon that gently lit the room.

You silently watched the man next to you for a while. In this light Orlo's face looked so much younger. He was relaxed, and he looked so happy. It was unlike the way his skin was tightened during the day when he was dragged around at court, or how the worry lines digged into his skin at night when he was planning for the coup.

In the soft moonlight his lips looked even fuller, begging to be kissed. And his long lashes were throwing some shade on his cheeks. Cheeks, that had grown a decent stubble over the night.

It wouldn't last, you knew. Shaving was one of the first things he did every morning; afraid of the consequences what would happen should he forget to get rid of the beginnings of a beard.

He was so beautiful. You knew that you didn't tell him often enough. He had finally managed to say Thank You instead of just laughing incredulously, but the doubt in his eyes was still plain as day.

You wrenched your gaze away as your dry throat reminded you why you had woken up in the first place.

You propped yourself up to see if any water pitchers were on the sidetable, and spotted a half filled glass. As you leaned towards it, you could feel a large hand possessively on your waist, pulling you back to him. But as you looked back to the man next to you, he was still deeply asleep.

The unspoken, unconcious sentiment of this movement almost made you cry.

God, you loved him so much.

You hoped he knew how deeply your feelings ran for him, because words never seemed to do them justice. Your entire heart was in his hands, and you had to trust him to be careful with it. You knew he would be, but sometimes it still frightened you how he had sneaked into your heart and stolen it, and that you had only realised when it was far too late.

You gently placed the empty glass back onto the nightstand. The coolness of the room had chilled your torso, and you were glad for the bodyheat Orlo provided.

You snuggled closer to him, nestling your legs between his again, pecking him slowly on his neck before dropping your head into his chest. You were drawing some mindless patterns on his chest.

You were blissfully thinking about him and you, and everything, and nothing, and soon his slow steady breaths gently lulled you back to sleep.

You managed to curl your hand into his before the darkness claimed you once again.

#the great #hulu's the great #count orlo x reader #count orlo #orlo #fanfiction #drabble #gentlest of nights #seriesly

[summerstardust]

do you think you could please do something where you're having your first time with orlo and, despite rumors orlo isn't a virgin

Toxic Rumors

Count Orlo x Reader

AN:This is my first smut fic, so please be gentle! Also, I tried to make this gender neutral. I hope you enjoy it!💜💜💜

Summary: After growing closer to the bookish Count, the reader and Orlo confess their feelings to each other.

Warnings: Familial death, smut, talk of losing virginities and rumors based around sexual histories

Word Count: 2891

It was difficult being a single in the court of Peter. Correction; it is difficult not vocally sleeping with someone in the court of Peter. You were the only child of a well to do family that supplied a good majority of the kingdom with vodka. As the only heir to the “necessary” business, you were deeply involved within the inner workings of the job and practice since you were young. Your parents had detailed plans of when you would take over the business after you were married, but unfortunately plans don’t always follow suit as well as people may want. One flu season, your father contracted smallpox and died soon after. With your mother paralised with grief, you took on the majority of the responsibilities of the company. The next flu season, your mother died in the same fashion. Many people well versed in gossip spread rumors that your mother had purposely walked around the already sick so as to contract smallpox and join your father, and that you were too preoccupied with the business to even care.

You would move back and forth between your business and your home attached to it, and your apartments within the halls of the Emperor. It took a toll on you and your health and seeing as you were the only trusted person to run the business, you eventually had to move into the palace permanently. Your stay in the palace wasn’t meant to be permanent, but it became that way. You continued to stay within the walls of the palace and use the palace as your homebase and used the Emperor’s investments to continue your family's business.

With you so invested in trying to keep your family’s business prevalent and in control of all of the orders and shipments while also dealing with your personal losses, you had little to no time to invest into your love life. You wanted a companion, you wanted someone to share your life with, you did not want an union formed in necessity like everyone else’s marriages. Your parents were happy, despite stresses, and that’s what you desired.

You only connected to one person within the court of Peter; Count Orlo. He, like you, seemed to value independence, personal goals, and standing up for the morals instilled through family. He often helped you keep up to date with your business’s finances and helped you assess which business offers would result in the most operable deals. Despite this logical connection, you saw the two of you growing closer and you hoped that you weren't imagining anything.

Also like you, Orlo suffered from the harmful words of his peers. Where the ladies of the court would call you such names as “whore” or “slut” they would call sweet Orlo an idiot virgin. You didn’t listen to whatever they had to say, however, because the cruel words of strangers didn’t mean anything to you. You trusted what Orlo said to you, how he interacted with you, and the sweet gestures he would perform just to make you feel better.

One night after a long day of business filings and gratuitous feasts and parties, you traveled to the library to find a book to read. You had plenty of books in your apartments, most gifted to you by Orlo, but you had read those books many times over and wished for something new. You sat there for a long time, you didn’t know how long, but you had reached the halfway point of the book you had chosen. Orlo frantically ran into the library, angry and flustered. 

Before you could even look up from your book, Orlo was apologising without taking any breaths and was moving to leave the library. You called out to him quickly, explaining that he was perfectly welcome within the library, especially because he called it home long before you had. He smiled at your comment causing him to forget some of his anger and he moved to a chair beside the one you were sitting in.

You asked the count what was troubling him, but he only shook his head in response. You looked at him solemnly and reached out to hold his hand that was resting on the armrest of the chair. You rubbed small circles on the back of his hand and told him, as you had many times, that if he ever needed anything, he need only ask. 

The Count took a deep breath and squeezed your hand tightly before speaking, “The two of us have been friends for a good while now, haven’t we, Y/N?” You nodded in reassurance. “If I told you something in confidence, what would you do?”

“Orlo, whatever is troubling you, I won’t tell a soul, you have my word.” Orlo nodded, considering what you had said, then asked if you would accompany him to his apartments so the two of you could talk privately. You agreed and followed him to his apartments.You always loved reading in Orlo’s apartments especially compared to your apartments or the library. Orlo’s apartments seemed more like home to you than any home you had lived in before, even when you lived happily with your parents. 

Orlo was breathing frantically again, and he shook his hands in the air by his waist to try and calm himself with some movement. Orlo began to pace, but stopped when you were about to ask what was troubling him. Orlo quickly walked to you, placing his hands on your shoulders to steady himself and spoke, “You mustn't tell anyone. You have to promise me, Y/N. You must promise me that you won’t tell anyone what I am about to tell you.” Shocked, you could only nod a reply. Orlo brought his hands down to yours and pulled you into the extra seat he kept behind his desk. He wiped his face then returned his hand to yours and squeezed to reassure himself that you were still there.

“Y/N, I have been working alongside the Empress to form a coup against the Emperor. I know that I should not be telling you this, as it could endanger our plans, but the more I have grown to know you, the more I have grown to care for you, I could not live with myself if anything had happened to me and I was unable to tell you of how I felt. I am so scared about what the Empress and I are planning and I do not know If we will even make it out of this alive, but I need you to know how much I care for you, just in case.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Orlo. We will get through this together.”

“We? You are okay with all of this?”

“Do not misunderstand me, Orlo, all of this is terrifying and I’m not okay with this. However, Peter is not fit to rule Russia. So, despite the dangerous nature of the coup, I will stand beside you, no matter what!” You smiled reassuringly at Orlo and rubbed circled on Orlo’s cheekbones. Orlo smiled back and, in a moment of courage and high emotions, leant forward and kissed you forcefully. You smiled into the kiss and held Orlo’s neck to deepen to kiss. Orlo moved his arms around your back and pulled you from your seat and onto his lap. The two of you continued to kiss, your kisses growing more intense and intimate by the second. You readjusted yourself on Orlo’s lap and accidentally ground against his crotch. Orlo moaned into your mouth and in your new sitting position, you could feel Orlo growing hard beneath you. You were overwhelmed by the amount of emotions running through you, but you trusted Orlo and wanted this moment to continue. But the two of you had to break apart to catch your breaths. You rested your forehead against Orlo’s neck, occasionally pressing kisses against his skin while Orlo brushed his hand through your hair. 

“Y/N, there’s something else I must tell you.” Orlo’s voice was quiet and scared, more so than he was when he told you of his feelings for you and the coup.

“What is it? Are you okay? I know that this is your first time with anyone, but-” You quickly became as flustered as Orlo, but then he interrupted you.

“Well, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” He sighed while closing his eyes to collect his thoughts, then spoke softly, “I’m actually not a virgin.” Your eyes widened in shock and your mouth dropped. You knew that it wasn’t wise to listen to the gossip of the court because most everyone lies, but the rumors of Orlo’s virginity were more widespread than your love life. You moved off of Orlo’s lap to listen to his story appropriately.

“Oh. When did you…”

“When I was a young man, still living on my parent’s land. It wasn’t the best experience, so when I arrived in the court of Peter, I tried to make a name for myself and forget that moment. I just did not expect that most of the other members of the palace to be like that one person that hurt me so much. I expected the court of Peter to be well read and articulate, spending their days planning a better life for the common man. I guess I am just as foolish as I was when I was young, because I still wake up every morning and go to sleep every night dreaming of Russia being better, like in the philosophies I read.”

“You’re not foolish for hoping, Orlo, especially when previous experiences have been difficult. And you have made great progress in the court and with Peter.”

“Not enough. The people here are still cruel and do not care for the lives of others.”You reached out to make Orlo face you before speaking.

“Well, of course. There is always room to grow. What matters is that you have not grown stagnant by the dreadful community in court and you have not allowed Russia to grow stagnant, despite Peter’s tempestuous attitude toward anyone who disagrees with him. That is why we need the coup. Russia needs you, Orlo. You are so close to achieving your goals!” Orlo smiled at your optimism. That’s one of the reasons why he loved you, despite the troubles you had gone through, you were incredibly optimistic.

“And after all, I did find you here. Do you still want me?” You joined Orlo in smiling.

“Of course I still want you, Orlo. I will always want you. And more importantly, I will always love you. Despite the fact that you will be displeasing Archie and the Church with your declaration, I will never be displeased or disappointed by learning your life story.” You placed soft, small kisses all over Orlo’s face and neck, eventually reaching his lips. You gave him a few more pecks, giggling when Orlo would follow you when you moved away. 

He smiled widely at your acceptance then asked, “How did your first experience occur?” You questioned what he was referring to and Orlo flusteredly explained how he heard the ladies of the court whispering one day. You looked down at the realization of what Orlo was referring to and sadly had to tell him the truth.

“Those are all lies told by an awful man who was upset that I refused to sleep with him. I have never been with anyone, Orlo.” It was Orlo’s turn to be shocked. He felt ashamed that he believed the rumors swirling around the court about all of the members of the court that you have slept with, especially when he knew that all of the rumors about him were false. You told Orlo that you were sorry, but Orlo cut off your negative comments.

“Do not dare feel sorry about your choices, Y/N. You have every right to live your life the way you want to. I should be the one apologising to you because I believed the rumors without talking to you first.” You apologised for doing the same to him, then the two of you fell into a comfortable silence while holding each other. Orlo asked if you wanted to move to his bedchamber to sleep. You agreed, saying that you did not want to sleep without Orlo tonight.

The two of you talked about your pasts more in depth then moved to more intimate conversations about how much the two of you care for each other. The pair of you moved to kissing each other again, this time both of your hands moved to caress each other's bodies. Orlo then moved to straddle you and kissed up and down your neck leaving bite marks when he could. Orlo, then, slowly undid the ribbons and buttons of your clothes, placing a kiss on your skin after each section of your clothes were undone. Orlo removed his clothes so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable about being the only one of the two of you unclothed. You enjoyed looking at the soft flesh of Orlo’s torso and thighs when they were revealed to you and Orlo smiled sweetly when he saw you staring.

Orlo looked into your eyes and cupped your face.“Tell me to stop at any moment.” You nodded. Orlo passionately kissed your lips, then moved down to your neck, then shoulders, then collarbones. Orlo trailed kisses down your chest after kissing the area above your heart, then kissed down your stomach. He moved down the bed and kissed the flesh of your inner thigh, then kissed his way to your other thigh. Orlo then kissed his way back up to your face and asked, “Are you still okay?” you nodded again, this time breathlessly “You will stop me if you are uncomfortable?” Again, you nodded, too afraid to speak out of fear that no words would form in your throat.

Orlo kissed you again passionately on your lips, then moved down to suck on your nipples, making you gasp. After a couple of minutes of Orlo enjoying your moans, Orlo moved further down your body and pleasured your genitals. You gasped in pleasure at the feeling of Orlo’s tongue on you and in you and reached down to hold one of Orlo’s hands as ecstasy washed over you. Your legs closed in around Orlo’s head then fell back down to the bed. Orlo kissed up your body then kissed your lips again. You moaned when you tasted yourself on his lips. When the two of you broke apart, Orlo asked if you were ready to continue and you agreed saying that you wanted to experience this moment with Orlo.

Orlo smiled and kissed you sweetly while positioning himself to enter you. It hurt quite extensively when he did so. You alerted him of your pain, and he stopped instantly with a worried look, and awaited your allowance for him to continue when you were ready. Orlo let you adjust to his size and kissed your neck and played with your nipples while he stretched you out. You nodded and told Orlo that you were ready and he began a slow pace. Quickening when he heard you moans of pleasure. You reached up with one hand to grab Orlo’s hair, it falling to his shoulders in the process. Your other hand was clutching Orlo’s hand tightly while Orlo’s other hand cupped your face. 

It wasn’t long before Orlo’s movements became erratic and you tightened around his length. The both of you moaned and held onto each other tightly as the two of you came together. You held Orlo close to you so he couldn’t remove himself from you right away. As soon you came, a fear filled your brain and you worried that Orlo only wanted you for sex and not because he cared. Orlo kissed your cheeks and asked you what was wrong and you told him your fears. Orlo moved to lie on his back, and pulled you on top of him while he was still inside you. Orlo sweetly told you of how beautiful you were and how brave you were and how much Orlo treasured you and appreciated how you trusted him enough to be your first. You thanked Orlo for his kind words and kissed his cheek before resting back down on his chest.

A silence filled the cold Russian air that permeated through Orlo’s room and after a few moments Orlo sweetly kissed your forehead and said a soft, “I love you, Y/N.”

You were finally growing tired, but even in your tiredness you responded with a soft,  “And I love you, Orlo.” before cuddling into Orlo’s neck. You fell asleep before Orlo, safely resting on his chest and being lulled by his steady heartbeat. He ran his hand through your hair and occasionally placed kisses on your forehead. He knew that you would stay with him, unlike so many before. He knew that with you, he finally had someone who would support him through everything and he had someone to support with his whole heart. Just as he first longed to be brave enough to confess his feelings for you, Orlo now longed for your future with him to grow and blossom together.

#the great #the great imagine #the great x reader #count orlo #count orlo x reader #count orlo imagine #sacha dhawan #request #fanfiction #personal post #anon #smut

[stayfabulous]

Count Orlo x serf reader :

Warnings: smut, swearing, slight fluff (I’m still new to writing smut so please be nice) I got the gif from google so doesn’t belong to me

If you don’t know him, watch The Great, it’s a banging show may I add 👌👌 and Count Orlo is like a lil puppy 🥺

Orlo dragged you through the halls of the palace. Locks of his hair falling down on his face, his face egar to have you.

You were just cleaning one of the rooms and he saw you. You never why he was egar, he just grasp your wrist and started to drag you to his chambers. You have spent the night with him, in other words having sex. You had it every time he saw you, but you hardly saw him for about two weeks. You missed him and he missed you. Recently, you have started to catch feelings for him. You loved the feel of his skin, you loved his smile, you loved his voice, you loved eyes, you loved how his hair falls in his face, you especially loved the way sweat fell down his forehead while he pounds into you. You loved him. Thinking about the previous nights of passion leaves you a pool of desire while Orlo drags you. But you can never be together, him a wealthly count and you a disgusting serf. Even if he did return your feelings, it could never happen, his reputation would be ruined and you can never do that to him, you loved him too much.

You have finally reached his chambers and his lips instantly found yours pushing you in the room. Orlo pins you to the door, locking it instantly behind you. His hands held your face as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You wrapped on hand around his neck and placing the other one on his chest. Eventually, you broke apart for air. You were gazing in each other’s eyes, seeing the amount of lust for each other.

“I’ve been thinking about you” Orlo whispers, breaking the silence.

“You have?” You whispering back

A small smile dances across his face, it brought a smile to yours as well.

“Of course I have, it was really hard to get you out of my head really, especially our secret nights together” he said as he started to kiss your neck, sucking the skin that could leave a mark. You gasped as you clutched at his chest.

“What happened to you?” You moaned

“Lots of work, my love. I just finished it and I came looking for you” he mumbled against your skin, leaving love bites.

That nickname hit you like a wall of bricks. “My love”. It felt like you were a married couple. Questions flooded your mind but were soon interrupted as Orlo bit down on your neck. You gasped loudly at the sudden motion. The only thought that was going through your mind now was how an animal Count Orlo is. His hands fell down to your body. A tingle went along with his touch. When his eyes met yours, all you saw was lust.

His lips met yours again, slipping his tongue into your mouth, you pulled him close, now wrapping both of your arms around his neck. Orlo’s arms went under your thighs and picked you up with ease. He than carried you to his desk, sitting you on it and settling himself between your legs.

His soft hands cupped both of your cheeks on your face, trying to deepen the kiss even more. You were caught up in his loving, you didn’t want this to end. You tugged on his jacket.

“Take this off please” you mumbled then returning to the kiss. Orlo complied, he shrugged off his jacket and throwing it to an unknown place in his chambers without even breaking from your lips. You can’t stop now, you won’t let it stop now.

But a knock on the door interrupted your and Orlo’s actions.

“Orlo we need you” said the voice, you were about to get off the desk but Orlo stopped you.

“I’m busy, come back later” he said then returned his lips to yours once more, placing one hand behind your head and the other hiking your dress up to pool at your waist and resting on your thigh.

“Well, when aren’t you not busy?!” Shouted the voice, Orlo separated from you again and huffed in annoyance, placing his hand that was on your head, on the desk next to you.

“I might be free tomorrow, I need to finish and it might take whole night” he grinned while looking at you. You mirrored his grin and brought your lips to his neck and sucking the skin leaving a mark. He slightly gasped.

“Can’t you ignore it” the voice sounding annoyed.

“I’ve ignored it far too long, it’s too precious and needs my attention” he said looking into your eyes, now you know. He was referring to you. That thought warmed your heart, you smiled at him. Orlo returned your smile and squeezed your thigh. His hands trailed up you your undergarments and tugged them down. (I don’t know what they wore as knickers back then, use your imagination 😅)

“Fine” said the voice and heard footsteps starting to fade away.

You were finally alone.

“Finally” you breathed out, your hands went to the binding of his trousers trying to untie it

“I’m sorry sweetheart about the interruption” he kissed you while helping you untiying the binds.

Finally, they were undone, he pulled out his length and rubbing it on your clit.

“Stop teasing my love” you moaned

Orlo then aligned himself at your entrance and pushed his whole length inside of you.

You moaned loudly

“I could never get old of your moans” he said as he started to thrust at a slow and agonising pace

Orlo placed his face in the crook of you neck as he placed on hand on your back and the other on your thigh, spreading it more so he can go in deeper. In an instant, you wrapped your legs wrapping around his waist.

Your hands clawed at his clothed back moaning at each thrust, cursing along with Orlo

“Fuck-ahhh- Orlo, please go faster, pleeeeasse” you pleaded

He granted your wish, and went faster.

You were moaning even louder as well as the skin slapping that filled the room

His grip on your thigh went tighter, you were sure there was going to be a sort of bruising.

The marks you left on Orlo’s neck became visible, which meant yours might be as well. What if the court saw them tomorrow?

You didn’t care in this moment, in fact small part of you wanted them to see them, letting them know you belong to Count Orlo

He suddenly began sucking the skin on your neck.

He growled in your ear and you loved it

You hands went to his hair pulling it by accident which made him slow down his thrusts

“Sorry love” you apologised, Orlo then grasped your hand and putting them back in his hair

“Do it again, I loved it” he moaned and he went back to his work on your neck and speeding up once more

You did as your told so you pulled on his hair and moaned at the speed he was producing from the movement of his hips meeting yours

Suddenly, he pushed you so that you fully layed on his desk his thrusts became more animalistic and more desperate. The desk creaking underneath you.

You moaned so loud you thought the whole palace heard you

“Orlo please don’t stop-ahh fuck- holy shit” you screamed as you tried to grasp onto something on the desk

He stopped

“Orlo why did you stop” you wined

“Beg love. I want to hear you beg” he simply stated then his thrusts started off slow

“Please Orlo-ahh shit- please go faster” you pleaded

He brought a hand to your cheek and brushed his thumb as he looked deeply into your orbs

“Good girl” he whispered

Orlo then sped up his speed and went even more deeper, causing the feeling to climax rising.

You looked up at Orlo, clearly enjoying himself, panting like a dog with his head pulled back.

“I’m close-fuck ahhhh” you moaned while biting your bottom lip trying to conceal your moans, which didn’t work.

“Me too-fuck y/n”

Soon, his thrusts gotten sloppier, as he gripped onto the desk.

“Orlo please keep going-shit”

“Don’t worry love” he groaned out

He then bent down to go back in his neck, he pounded deeper and more faster into you to reach both of yours peak.

You gripped onto him like your life depended on it, as it brought you closer, as so did he

Then with one final thrust, your orgasm pulsed through you.

You moaned out loudly, Orlo quickly drowned them with his lips as his hips stuttered.

Soon he came, as he moaned into your lips, as his seed painted your walls.

“Shit” he moaned in your ear as he collapsed onto you

As you both were calming down, you were running you fingers through Orlo’s hair. You heard a soft chuckle in your ear

“Vodka, love?” He asked

You simply nodded, he returned a small smile before he tied up his trouser, turned around and the vodka and two glasses.

Now or never.

“I love you, Orlo” you blurted out

He froze in mid action, tears started to brim your eyes

“I know you don’t feel the way, I mean why love a serf while you can fuck noblewomen who are much more glamorous than me. But I can’t stop these feelings. I love your hair, I love your skin, I love you voice in fact I actually adore your voice and don’t even get me started on you fucking smile” you giggled a bit while you sniffed, wiping your tears away.

You heard nothing

“Orlo, please say something” you begged

He turned to look at you, tears were falling down his face with a little smile

‘What is he smiling?’

He walked towards you, placed both hands on either side of your face and enveloped you in a kiss

This kiss was different, it was filled with love.

He broke from your lips, and breathed out a small “I love you too”

You both hugged.

The end

Now the gif, I couldn’t find anything else I’m sorry

Also be nice and leave positive criticism cause we love it in this household 👌😉👍

Byeeee ✨

#count orlo x reader #count orlo #the great x reader #the great

[13atoms]

Arm in Arm (Count Orlo x tall!female!reader)

Thank you for the people who recommended Orlo for this! Getting back into writing fic after so long off was very difficult and very slow, but this is a first step! Reader is taller than Orlo (>5'8" or something?) and wearing a skirt.

Fluff (very light hurt/comfort) | Oneshot | 1.6k

It was a generous Russian morning, which looked to precede a deeply pleasant day. The whole world was languid and cheery, with a gentle breeze swaying through the summer drapes and sunlight illuminating patches of the rugs which ran through Orlo’s living quarters. The fire was built in its grate, but unlit, and the chaise longues had been moved to let you bathe in the warmth of the sun instead.

There was a great feast being held somewhere which wasn’t the Palace, and the whole place had breathed a sigh of relief as a great convoy of nobles and royals set off to attend it. It was, Orlo decreed, a rare day off. And the two of you were to enjoy it together.

You groaned and stretched out, wary where your legs were draped across Orlo’s lap. There’s a burning behind your eyes as you closed your book over your thumb, and extend both of your arms over your head. Hours of reading had left a tension in every part of you, yet it quickly melted away.

 Orlo closed his own book, stretching himself out like a cat with a groan so gratuitous you were sure he’d intended for the sound to make you laugh. He yawned as he set the books aside and hugged your calves to his chest, making you shout out in shock as you were pulled down in your seat.

Laying flat, you looked up at him, felt the gentle stetch through your spine as he kept a hold of your legs. Orlo was smiling lazily, in a way you hadn’t seen him do in months. You flexed your bare feet, felt the muscles of your calves move against his arms, and threw your head back to stare at the ceiling.

It was painted with great skill, depicting a scene you probably ought to distantly recognise from the Bible. You had no inclination to focus on the brushstrokes for that long. Instead, you enjoyed the settling of your back against soft cushions, and the gentle patterns Orlo was tracing on your ankle.

“You’re too long for his sofa,” he mused, finally setting your legs down and letting them hang off the end of the arm.

He was trapped in, slouched under your legs, head lolling against the cushion behind him. Looking down the length of your own body, you only felt contentment. The Count clearly didn’t have anywhere else he’d rather be.

“I’m too tall for the chaise in my apartments too, the furniture-makers ought to be more considerate.”

You had no quarrel with the chaise. Not really. You were enjoying the relaxing, hazy feeling of having your legs above your head.

“I suppose if it just means we have to be closer together.”

“Tragic,” you murmured, looking back at the ceiling.

Orlo snorted a laugh, pulling his glasses from his face and tossing them onto the side table. When you lifted your head to look at him he was rubbing at the indents his glasses left on his nose. You loved seeing him without them, it was something private. Reserved for you. He squirmed with discomfort when you said it, but he was so pretty without them.

“Does it bother you?” he asked suddenly.

You cocked your head, humming a question.

“Height, I mean?”

Entangled together, you had forgotten he was any shorter than you. Now he looked at your legs, side-by-side, as his stretched out in front of him, and you felt a flash of embarrassment.

“I suppose… sometimes I think I’d prefer being shorter. It would be easier.”

Orlo frowned at you for a moment, and then rushed to speak, his words falling over each other.

“No! That’s not what I meant at all!”

His hand was back on your calf. Orlo’s eyes were wide and sincere, flashed with panic where they had been downcast a moment ago.

“I just meant…” he thought for a moment, thumb rubbing across your calf, “I know it’s not… popular to be seen with men shorter than you are.”

You thought for a moment, that uncomfortable sting in your chest completely extinguished by the slight shine of Orlo’s eyes. There’s nothing wrong with you, you wanted to tell him. You saw how Peter looked down at him, how people made jokes. The way being measured for new clothes would put a damper on his whole day. He’s avoided the process entirely for far too long, until he began courting you.

 “Do you think there’s anything I’d want to change about you?”

“Wouldn’t you prefer it? For it to be a little more comfortable when we dance? To have someone… more?”

“All we have are the gifts we are given, Orlo. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

 He struggled to articulate what it was he wanted to say, and you waited, not wishing to put ideas in his head or words in his mouth. His hand found your ankle, and stroked over the delicate bone there. He brought his face to your calf, and mumbled against it as he spoke.

“I just want you to feel protected…”

“I do,” you insisted, quiet and sincere.

For a moment there was silence. You stared back at the ceiling, a maze of richly coloured stories merging into one another. Was that Eve above you, tempted by the serpent? Samson, in the next scene? With long cut locks of hair beside his sleeping face, and the glint of Delilah’s knife against the pillow?

“I’m sorry. You should never have to feel inadequate… I try to slouch. To not make it obvious. I can step further away, if you prefer…”

“I hate when you do that,” he told you plainly, no anger or malice in his voice. “You’ll hurt your back.”

The paused for a while, staring at the carpet.

“You don’t have to change yourself for me either.”

“I know I just feel bad sometimes…”

You thought about him in the moment he thought no one was watching, straining to stand up straighter, rocking on the heels of his shoes, staying seated when Peter walked up behind his desk to speak with him.

“Why would you feel bad?”

“It’s not as though you’re short, Orlo. Lots of women would look fine beside you, I’m just tall. I just know… some men don’t like being the shorter one.”

“I love that you’re taller than me.”

You ignored him. The cut on Adam’s rib was a smear of crimson against delicately painted skin, the paint so fresh it might have been real blood pouring from the ceiling.

“Catherine is tall,” he murmured, “and widely considered one of the most beautiful women in Russia.”

You hummed, and he reached for your hand, pulling it into his lap.

“Probably the second most beautiful,” he teased, and you scoffed at him.

“She’s not that tall. Peter is taller.”

“Peter is far too tall. I often think if he were shorter, he couldn’t get away with as much. He’d be too easy to punch.”

You shushed him, the sound broken by a laugh, and Orlo groaned, hiding his smile against your underskirts.

“I don’t want to make you feel bad about yourself. You have to know, that’s the last thing I want.”

“You don’t.”

He thought for a moment, and tapped his fingers on your skin in the pattern his often drummed into his desk. Finally, he spoke again.

“I love to see how tall you are. I love that I can spot you across a room, that you can do things with such ease. I envy it, sometimes. When I have to rush to keep up with you.”

You groaned as you curled yourself towards him, taking another moment to stretch. That horrid pang in your chest was now absent, replaced with something warm. Your guard was down. The palace was so quiet the outside world might as well not have existed. You indulged your insecurities a little longer, knowing Orlo wouldn’t strike if you showed weakness.

“I always worry that eventually you’ll find someone… easier. Someone shorter.”

“Why would I even be thinking about that, when I’ve got you?”

“A good point.”

It took a great amount of shuffling to lie next to him on the chaise, but it was worth it, to be beside his warm body. He pulled one of your legs over him, offered his bicep as a pillow. His dark, warm eyes staring into yours still gave you butterflies.

“If our heights bother other people, that is their problem. I’ve never known someone who understands me so well,” he murmured, “even if you take up far more of the bed than you ought to.”

“You’ve never complained about me being in your bed. You cling to me –”

“Yes, I understand. I’m teasing you, my love. I want you to take up every bed I ever sleep in.”

“I wish you saw yourself how I see you, Orlo. You’d never feel like you needed to be taller again – you’re the only person I pay attention to in any room.”

“How funny, I feel completely the same.”

You would concede, months later, when the bloodshed had ended and Orlo’s quarters grew far too big for one man, that he had been right to have a longer chaise long made. And when he crushed himself into you after long, arduous nights, his face pressed to your neck, you would both be grateful you could shelter him from the world – even for the shortest moment.

“Do you want to go out today?” he asked, when his arm was going numb from cushioning your head and the sun was high in the sky.

“Perhaps just for some air?”

“That would be nice.”

Your elbows didn’t really fit with one another, formally walking arm-in-arm as many other couples did – though you didn’t feel sorry for it. Instead you took a turn of the gardens hand-in-hand, head held high, all the closer for it.

#count orlo #13atoms #count orlo x reader #orlo x reader #the great fic #fic #orlo #ngl this was harder than i thought and im not very secure in it! so likes comments rbs etc. #very very much appreciated #not really got the fic bug atm but we'll see! i enjoyed doing this again

[fanfickitchenette]

Friend of the Empress, Chapter One

Orlo x Reader; Chapter One-Of Expectations and Faults

Y/N finds herself sent along as her childhood friend Catherine goes off to Russia to get married. The stay is on a to be determined basis, at the will of her parents and her own impending marriage. Everything in Russia is not as Catherine expected. Y/N wasn't expecting much in general. But, still, it wasn't this.

*no warnings I can think of for this chapter* BUT

TAGS for the story as a whole--possible eventual smut; talk of death, murder, SA (none in the story, just discussion); canon-typical violence; strangers-friends-lovers; angst; lots of platonic love

Word Count 1.7K

Chapter One: Expectations

            “My Russian is barely passable, Catherine. I don’t know what you expect of me.”, you smile at your friend with trepidation. The carriage bumps merrily along the ground, seemingly in touch with Catherine’s infectious joy. She pauses in re-reading you a letter that her emperor wrote her months ago. You can vividly recall blonde hair and bright blue eyes as she shook you awake to show you his correspondence when he initially sent the letter. The letter would be kept on her person when the two of you would traverse the grounds of her parent’s estate and then placed on the table next to her bed when she’d go to sleep.

            You hate to interrupt her excitement but the conversation you had with her mother before leaving sits uneasily in the back of you mind. Princess Consort, Lady Joanna Elisabeth terrifies you and makes you nauseous on the best of days. It’s been almost three weeks since the two of you started the journey from Germany. At the beginning, it was almost simple to brush off Lady Joanna’s warnings, Catherine radiated excitement and warmed the air with her hopes and ideas and the musings of her Peter. She quizzed you in Russian and asked the same back. When the sun was brightest, she would read aloud from her books of philosophy. You would sometimes read to her from the few novels you had been able to pack. But the passage of time has caught up with you. You’re set to reach the palace of Emperor Peter within the next few hours.

            The morning that Catherine’s departure was set, the dawn seeing you wait for your friend at the bottom of the staircase, you hadn’t known you’d be accompanying her all the way to Russia. With a rustle, only perceptible with years of training to listen for it, you straightened your back as Lady Joanna appeared at you elbow. “How marvelous to see you up so early, y/n. I do know how you love to wake up at a leisurely pace.”

            Your smile was, mostly, sincere as you dipped into a curtsy in greeting, “I didn’t want to be the reason for making us late on departure, my lady. I do know it’s an unfortunate habit. If I can say, you look amazing this morning. The green suits your complexion.” Her lips curled up with satisfaction, a hand smoothing the fabric of her rather enormous bustle.

            “You may, as I do look wonderful. You look presentable, which is a small relief. You’ve chosen a decent dress, especially as I know you won’t have packed much.”

            “I didn’t think I would need much, my lady. I didn’t want to overburden anyone when Catherine is bringing many of her things. It will only be five days before I will switch to a different carriage line. Simple things only.” Lady Joanna had looked at you then, raising her eyebrow with the mock surprise you’d seen her bestow on all of her children as long as you’d known them. Donna received it when she was informed of the sale of her beloved horse when she was fourteen and ‘too old to be messing about in the fields with no marriage arranged.’; Frederick got it when he was told he wouldn’t be summering with his friend, as the boy had died two weeks before and ‘did no one tell you? How good a friend could you have been, then?’

            A letter materialized from behind the woman’s back, “Did I not tell you that your parents wrote to me? Maybe a month or so ago. So many things happening, you must forgive me,” you nodded silently, worry curled and kept trapped under your tongue, “No need to fret. You know they’ve been working to get you married for a while now. Apparently they have a few good choices, but they’d like you out of reach for a bit. No one filling your mind with inappropriate thoughts of a love match. You’ll be accompanying Catherine. All the way to Russia. You’ll be sent for once your parents make their decision.” She had given you their letter and asked if you’d like a moment to pack anything else before leaving. It had been almost kind of her to give you the heads up; traveling with only a suitcase and bag to a foreign nation wouldn’t be feasible if you didn’t know how long you’d be informally exiled. Until about a week into the trip, Catherine had been under the impression you knew that you’d be going with her since the beginning.

            At the moment, the two of you bumping along the road, Catherine refolds her letter and tucks it into one of the books sprawled onto the seat next to her. “All I expect from you, y/n, is that you keep me company. That you stay by my side as Peter and I bring Russia into prosperity. When you leave me, I will be bereft. I will be inconsolable. I will be in mourning,” her hands find yours as she leans forward, you meet her in the middle and rest your foreheads together, “I will expect you to lead a great life. Wherever you may be. So that, when we write, when we visit, we will both be accomplished of wonderful things and of wonderful love. I expect only that and nothing less.” She always makes things sound so easy. You wonder how she thinks like that. How she believes in herself and those around her with such confidence.

            “Well,” you lean back in your seat, not surprised when she moves to the seat next to you and repositions her head onto your shoulder, “If that’s all, I should be able to manage.”

            The palace is huge. The grounds are glorious. You are completely gob-smacked at the sight as Catherine presses her face to the window, lost in her own awe. You tug her into sitting straight as the carriage makes a turn to be parallel to the palace and slows to a stop. A man in uniform opens the door after a moment, offering a hand first for Catherine and then you, both of you leaving the carriage with your journey finally complete. It’s traditional, at least at home, to initially be allowed to freshen up after long journeys. You, at least, are expecting an hour to change into a grander dress and wash up a bit before Catherine meets her Peter. Instead, both of you are instructed to follow two soldiers. To meet with the emperor and his advisors immediately. Catherine brushes her hair with her fingers and pulls out the twig of tree needles, that she plucked on the last part of your trip, from the top of her dress. You don’t feel anywhere near as composed. Your traveling dress, the same style as hers, feels too light and too pink and entirely not enough in everything that would matter in a royal court. If the ladies are anything like Lady Joanna, they will eat Catherine alive. And what they’ll do to you doesn’t even require thinking about.

            The halls seem surprisingly empty as you both walk through, slightly allaying the fear that Catherine would be immediately beset by gossip. You can tell Catherine is focused only on her destination, on meeting this great love, but you can’t help feeling as if the life of the palace is simply waiting behind closed doors as you pass. Levying judgement through thick walls covered in a large amount of mounted animal heads and various antlers. One of the only nice things that Lady Joanna ever said about you was that it might be valuable to doubt yourself if only to not be surprised when everything goes wrong. She said you always adapted wonderfully because of it. Your own mother normally called you observant and level-headed and left it at that.

            A grand set of doors are opened to an empty room, housing a single throne. Catherine isn’t kept waiting long. You only feel relief for your friend at that. She might have exploded if left alone, waiting, with her future so close by. The man who enters and strides forward, separating himself from the few others he is with, is handsome and you might be jealous if it weren’t your friend, your lovely Catherine, who is marrying him. He’s tall, with clear skin and pretty eyes. You note, almost absentmindedly, that you could almost be jealous of his eyelashes because they do make his eyes very nice to look at. He pauses in front of your friend. The girl you’ve known since you were both children. Who demanded that you learn to read more than your letters and simple sentences. The girl who you watched grow into the wonderous women, full of optimism and grand ideas that make you light-headed. You can barely imagine how she’s feeling, what she’s thinking.

            He circles your friend once. You want to be bitter, thinking how at odds that makes him seem from his letter, but your father’s voice rings in your head. It reminds you that Peter is still a man. Even the best of men have their faults when it comes to…physical urges and interests. You would allow him that if—“You look taller in your portrait,” he turns and starts to walk away, your eyes attempt to bug out of your skull, “Send her back. Get me a tall one.” It’s silent for one, ringing moment. Your eyes fix firmly on your friend, noting how she hides her shock better than you can but just barely. The moment ends and he laughs, the other men following his lead, and turns back. “Rich. Rich. See what I did there? I’m kidding. Kidding.”            

Your friend says she finds it amusing even as you feel her joy lessening from a few feet away. She gives him the branch of spruce and you see and hear as the Peter in front of her is fully detached from the letter she’s been pouring over. He promptly leaves to go horse-riding, though something about it feels off to you, before you and Catherine follow after the archbishop who came into the room with the emperor. She still seems to have her hope and determination even as your own wanes. The man who seemingly wrote the letter, a shorter fellow with brown skin, a black coif of healthy-looking hair, and glasses, watches the three of you leave with something very much like guilt in his eyes.

#catherine the great #the great hulu #count orlo #sacha dhawan #count orlo x reader #slow burn #friends to lovers #orlo is on the ace spectrum for sure #fanfic #the great fanfiction #the great imagine

[likesomekindofcheese]

Please take pity on my name nerd heart and tell me what names you think Orlo would consider for his child! I can see him considering the names of Western philosophers.

Oh! OOOOOHH! That’s precious! And I have been wanting to write for Orlo but never had the chance until now! Thank you!

“We are not naming the baby Plato!” you insist, placing a protective hand over your stomach. 

The round bump was not too big yet, but it was now finally there.

Your dear husband turned from sitting in his chair and fixed his glasses.

“But, Y/N-darling- consider it! Wouldn’t you like the baby to be like that! You’ve read the Allegory with the Cave-wonderful, brilliant ideas!”

You sighed, setting yourself down on the bed, changing your swelling feet out of your slippers.

“But you’ve read what all of those men said about women...that they were-what-barely above animals?! I don’t want my child to emulate that!”

He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck and looking down.

“I...I overlooked that...and I haven’t read it in a while...” he confessed sheepishly. 

You let out a sigh as you tapped your fingers, thinking. Orlo continued to search through the books scattered on his desk, despite your protesting yawns.

“Oh! How about Kant! Immanuel Kant!” he cheered, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he pointed to a page.

“Hmm, I like the sound of that...” you mused.

“Oh! Or Rene- for Rene Descartes...”

“That’s a nice name!”  you pointed out, settling into the blankets.

Happily humming, he got out of his desk and changed into his shift from the wardrobe in your room.

“I suppose Rousseau...that’s who the Empress likes. And then we’d have her blessing....”

“I did like him, we could do that...or there’s Augustine of Hippo. Augustine’s rather regal, don’t you think?”

In his nightshirt, his glasses unfolded and his hair free he gave you a beautiful smile.

“Very regal, my dear!” he cheered.

Giving you a sweet kiss, he blew out the candle and you both settled into the warm blankets from the Russian chill.

Though you could sense he wasn’t asleep yet from his rustling. And a thought came up.

“Grigory...what if it’s a girl...” you muttered.

He turned over, eyes bright in the dark.

“Ah....uh...Augustina then?” he wondered.

With a little laugh, you nodded.

“I guess so! We have time to decide...” you dismissed.

You settled into your pillows as you saw Orlo’s hand reach across to touch your bump.

“Goodnight, little one. We’ll figure out a good name for you but...your mother and I love you already....”

The Great Taglist: Taglist: @sgt-stardust-killerqueen​ @queenlover05​ @itsametaphorgwil​ @foxinaforestofstars​ @iwritefanficnotprophecies​ @simonedk​ @panagiasikelia​ @grigorlee​ @fueled-by-novocaine​ @xviiarez​ @vintage-and-hypnotic​ @raerae27​ @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night​ (if I get anyone wrong, please forgive me! I’m sleepy and trying to get this out before I conk out!)

#Carrie writes #Orlo #Count Orlo #Count Orlo Fluff #count orlo x reader #count Orlo x you #count orlo x y/n #count orlo x fem! reader #count Orlo fanfiction #The Great fanfic #the Great fanfiction #Count Orlo fluff #sacha dhawan

[moon-in-daylight]

Stay the night / Count Orlo x reader

Summary: It’s the evening before Catherine’s birthday, and knowing what her plans for the special day are, you have to decide whether if you warn Orlo or not.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: So remember over a month ago when I said I wanted to write Orlo fluff? Well, I wasn’t able to write it until recently. I didn’t edit this and I’m posting it at 2 am so forgive any typos that you may find. I’m just really impatient once I finish writing something and I really can’t wait to share it 😂 Also, thanks to the anon that sent this because it practically gave me the whole idea for this fic. Sorry for the delay 😅

Orlo’s mellow voice echoed through the empty room as he read aloud for the both of you. Written words came out of his tongue naturally, as if he was the one choosing what to say instead of just reading the thoughts of another person. He had that gift of making the most boring writings sound like poetry when he read them for you. You were sure that even the dullest treaties he had to redact for Peter would sound delightfully sweet, if he was the one reading them.

The loving tone he used when he knew you were listening, the dedication he put into every sentence, reciting every word with a passion you had rarely seen in any other man at court… As you leant your head on his shoulder, you wished you could enjoy the soothing sound of his voice just like you used to do every night. But, much to your disgrace, this wasn’t just any other night.

Maybe it was for Orlo. As far as you could tell, he was oblivious to all the chaos going through your mind. And you wished you could be as well as you tried to focus on the way he took and released the air around you as he spoke.

He didn’t have the slightest clue, but tomorrow would be a decisive day for the two of you. Not only for the two of you. The whole of Russia could be marked forever by the events that were to come. Tomorrow was Catherine’s birthday, and as one of her most loyal confidantes, you had been chosen to carry the burden of knowing what her plans for the day were.

You had thought that she was joking at first when she told you that she was pregnant, and you even laughed when she let you know that all she wanted as a birthday gift was her husband’s head on a silver plate. But you froze when you realized she was being as serious as ever since she had arrived that godforsaken excuse of a court. She was determined to take the step, to finally kill Peter and take his place the next morning. Seeing the passionate way she spoke of the events that were to come, you knew nothing could have make her change her mind.

It wasn’t that you weren’t glad that Peter was about to get what he deserved. You hated him with every fiber of your being and you couldn’t wait for the moment that he paid for everything he had done to your country, that was why you had chosen to take part in her coup and drag Orlo into it as well. But as the moment of taking the final step approached, you couldn’t help but torture yourself with all the horrible outcomes your plans could bring.

If the coup failed, a quick public execution would be the most desirable destiny for you. Your body trembled when you thought about the physical tortures and punishments you would be subjected to if Peter identified you as one of the plotters. But that worry you felt for your well being didn’t even compare to what you felt when you thought of what losing Orlo would be like.

Orlo had been your friend for years, and now that your relationship was finally developing into something more, you couldn’t bare the thought of losing him. For years you had been meeting in the library at the most remote times of the day, sharing his company and a decent book in the dim light of candles being all you needed to clear your mind of the idiots you had to deal with at court. He had been the most important person to you ever since you had arrived that awful place, the only person that had showed to you some real, uninterested kindness.

You hadn’t been able to avoid developing deeper feelings for him almost immediately, but thinking that he wasn’t interested in you, you had kept them a secret for years, hoping that way you wouldn’t lose your closest friend. You had felt utterly stupid when, after coming back from his unfortunate trip to the front, he had decided to tell you what he truly felt for you in an act of alcohol-induced bravery.

Only a few weeks had gone by since you had gotten together, and honestly not much had changed in your relationship. You still did the same things you had always done. You talked for hours on end, share any and every interesting book or quote you read with each other, go for a walk through the palace gardens… The only difference was that you no longer had to hold yourself back when you felt like grabbing his hand or giving him a little peck on the lips.

It felt as if you had been wasting your time all those years, and you weren’t ready for what you both had to be over. Catherine’s birthday could mean the end of everything you actually enjoyed about that place, because even if you succeeded in getting Peter out of the throne, there was still a high risk that either you or Orlo had to sacrifice your lives for the cause.

You hadn’t mind dying back when you had first joined the coup. Back then, you didn’t have anything to hold on to and you wouldn’t have mind to give your life for a greater good. Now that you had Orlo by your side, you were scared of losing the one good thing that you had.

For the first time since you could remember, you were terrified.

His voice seemed to be drifting away from you as you felt a sharp pain inside your chest. It wasn’t fair. You would never forgive yourself if something did happen to Orlo the next day. You would always remember that you had been to one to drag him into that situation.

“Orlo…” You called his name in a low tone, immediately gaining his attention as he looked away from the book and right back at you.

You wanted to apologize to him. To tell him just how terrified you were and ask him to run away with you far away from that palace, move to another country if needed. You had more than a bad premonition about the following day, and your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled not to share those anxious thoughts with him.

This could be the last night that you got to spend by his side. He seemed so blissful there, reading to you. So calmed and unaware of the horrible thoughts that clouded your head… You couldn’t tell him, you couldn’t make him carry that burden too. Orlo deserved every second of happiness he could get, and you wouldn’t have been able to be the one bringing him bad news. He’d know about Catherine’s plans when he strictly had to, not a second earlier.

“Am I boring you?” He innocently asked as he put the book on his lap, trying to disguise his true fear of being boring with a kind smile and an amusing intonation in that question. He had slowly learned to become comfortable around you, vulnerable. But sometimes you could still see glimpses of old shy, nervous Orlo when his insecurities hunted him.

“Of course not.” The reassurance you gave him seemed to bring him back to that previous state of peace he had been enjoying during that whole evening. “I could never get bored of you.”

He didn’t need to give you an actual answer for you to notice his disbelief of your words. A simple, practically unnoticeable blush of his cheeks and the way his eyes immediately avoided looking directly at you were enough for you to notice the incredulity he still demonstrated at the thought of someone being able to love him.

“I hope you know I mean it.” You added, reaching his cheek with one of your hands and caressing it softly as you removed the book that still laid on his lap so you were the one resting above him instead.

Grabbing his chin carefully, you guided his stare so that it would meet yours, his chocolate brown eyes reflecting some of the dim light of the room. He had removed his characteristic glasses recently, and you weren’t quite accustomed to see him so… Naked yet. The absence of them allowed you to look into his eyes with no barrier in between, and though you had to admit you kind of missed that accessory of him, there was no comparison to what getting lost in his uncovered eyes felt like. You could get lost on them for hours.

Observing the way he stared back at you in deep affection and devotion, you even forgot about everything else going on for a second. For just that one moment, you could pretend everything was okay.

“Remember when we met?” Your fingers traced the outline of his jaw as you recalled the first time you had seen him.

“I got scared when I heard the door because no one else but me used to spend time here.” He evoked his memories of that first day too. “You were surprised when you saw me too. You were crying and you had run in here hoping you could be alone.”

“The Ladies here can be really mean.” You smiled at him as you remembered how you were affected by the comments of other people when you first arrived the palace. It had been long since you last cared about those things. Truth was you had stopped caring about the Ladies’ opinions once you had started to prefer Orlo’s nicer ones instead.

“I tried to comfort you.” Orlo kept relating the events of that day as he let his hands rest on either side of your waist, embracing you softly. “I didn’t know what to do, I felt so bad that you were suffering so pointlessly… I read some Descartes to you, because it always helps me to see things with perspective…”

“Conquer yourself rather than the world.” You recited one of the quotes Orlo had read to you, the one that had been printed in your mind since that day.

“I’m sure I bored you more than I helped you relax.”

“That’s not true.” You intervened again, refusing to let him indulge in his own negative perception of himself. “You helped me a lot. You didn’t have to, but you stayed with me until I felt better. No one else would have done that.”

When he looked away from you in embarrassment, you decided to draw his attention back at you by kissing him on the lips. He should have been accustomed by now, but he still froze for a few seconds every time you kissed him unexpectedly. Far from being bothered by it, you felt touched whenever you got that reaction from him, and you delighted yourself when you finally felt him moving his lips against yours one the initial shock was over.

It was those little things that had made you fall so deep for Orlo. Those were the things you were most afraid of losing. Thinking about the fact that it could be the last time you kissed him, you deepened the kiss as your fingers started to play with the few locks of hair that fell messily around his head.

“I love you, Orlo.” You whispered softly, quickly hiding your head in his chest. “Please, don’t ever forget that.”

It was inevitable that the tears started forming in your eyes, and you couldn’t hold them back anymore when Orlo surrounded your body with his arms. Bringing you even closer to him as he repeatedly kissed the top of your head.

“I love you too.” He muttered, the feeling of guilt while seeing you cry overcoming every shyness he could still have left. “I… I’m sorry if it sounded as if I don’t. You’re the most important thing to me and sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you. I’m really sorry… Please, don’t cry…”

“It’s not your fault.” You quickly assured him, once again refusing to let him self-flagellate. “It’s okay.”

“What is wrong?” Orlo asked, trying to clean the tears that already felt down your cheeks as you silently calmed yourself. If you died tomorrow, you didn’t want that you crying was the last memory he kept of you.

“Nothing is, I promise.”

You knew you hadn’t sounded confident enough for him to believe you, but you weren’t able to tell him what was really going on. All you wanted was to enjoy that night with him and stretch it as long as you could in fears it was actually going to be your last. Cuddled against his chest, you wished for him not to ask anymore questions, fearing that you wouldn’t be able to keep the secret from him much longer.

His hands kept moving up and down your back as you tried to calmed yourself down.

“Is there anything I can do?” Orlo worriedly asked, still trying to help despite not knowing what the situation was. You had always admired that of him, his predisposition to help even when he didn’t know how.

Focusing on the calming rhythm of his breathing, you tried to find the right words to express what you needed without ruining this evening for him.

“Would you stay the night with me?”

“Of course. Anything you need.” He agreed, wrapping you tighter with his arms.

Accommodating yourself inside his embrace, you wished for a way to be able to stop time in that precise moment.

#Count Orlo x reader #Orlo x reader #Hulu's The Great #Sacha Dhawan #Hulu's The Great fanfiction #Count Orlo x you #Orlo x you #The Great #The Great fanfiction

[imthedoctorlove]

Count Orlo x reader - Modern Day Law AU

This came from a sudden burst of inspiration and I have no idea if it makes any sense or is of any good, but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

Warnings - mentions of blood.

***

You were shaking.

The grey jumper and jogging bottoms they put you in scratched at your clammy skin.

You stared at your hands - you could still see the blood. Even though you had scrubbed every bit of skin, you could still see it. It had tainted everything. The ticking of the clock was there to remind you how long you had been there. It had been hours since someone had been into see you. The interrogation was hard and unrelenting. The solicitor told you to only reply with "no comment" but you didn't listen. You needed them to know the truth. It was an accident. The solicitor left after that with a shake of his head at your stupidity and advised you to plead guilty.

Your shallow breathes echoed in the concrete room they left you in. The cuffs rattled against the table as you jerked your head to the right towards the door.

It opened and your back stiffened. An officer entered the room. You recognised him. He was the one who arrested you - pulled you from his cold embrace.

"I would like to be left alone with my client if you please."

You frowned not knowing where the voice had come from, but your confusion was cleared when the owner of the voice entered the room. Your breath hitched as you took him in. He was clean shaven and was dressed in a black tailored suit along with brown polished brogues. His dark hair was brushed back and styled, but slightly wind swept. In his left hand was a worn brown briefcase. He stared expectanly at the officer. The officer spared a glance at you before leaving the room.

When the door closed he finally looked your way. Warm brown eyes stared into your own and you forgot where you are for a moment. He breaks eye contact first.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

He moved over to the chair opposite to where you are sitting and takes a seat. "My name is Mr Orlo from Ulrich and Son. I will be your defendant on your case." He stretched out his hand for you to shake and you notice the slight tremble in his fingertips. You awkwardly shake it as best you could.

"Y/n L/n." You cringed at the hoarseness.

It was clear that he had not yet read your file. You held his gaze and commited the soft look of them to memory as you knew it would soon be extinguished. You jerked back when he suddenly jumped to his feet and strode out the door. Your mouth hung open. Was it something you said? The door opened again and Mr Orlo walked back in carrying two white plastic cups. He placed one in front of you before sitting back down. You thanked him before taking a sip and sighed as the cool water eased the pain in your throat.

Mr Orlo shuffled in his seat and and cleared his throat before opening his brief and pulling out a file. He placed it in front of him before reaching into his inner suit pocket. He pulled out a case that along with his briefcase had seen better days. He opened the case and pulles out a pair of silver glasses and perched them on the end of his nose.

"You will have to be patient with me as I have yet to read up on all aspects of your case. I was on another until earlier this morning when I was... well you don't need to know this, sorry." He cleared his throat again and opened the file. You watched as his expression changed the more he read. He spared a quick glance at the crime scene

photographs. A hand shot up to cover his mouth as he retched. Your own stomach turned as you caught a glance at them. The file was snapped shut. Mr Orlo reached for his plastic cup nearly knocking it over and downed it contents.

"Right, I think that's everything I need." He stood and hastily shoved the file back into his briefcase.

"What? You haven't asked me anything."

"There's no need. It's all in your statement. I will have you out on bale by the end of the day."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"I- " your throat closed up when you saw that the softness had not left his eyes. "You believe me?"

"I work with the facts. It's not my job to believe you, but it is my job to defend you and I am certain I can win this case."

"So, you don't want me to plead guilty?"

"Do you want to plead guilty?"

You shook your head.

"That's settled then. If you'll excuse me I have some work to do." He pulled out a business card and handed it over to you. "I have your details and will be in touch." With that he left the room. You stared after him not quite believing what had just happened. Your gaze dropped to the business card he had left you and traced the gold lettering of his name. The corner of your lips turned upwards at the thought of seeing the curious man again.

"Maybe it was worth it after all."

#count orlo x reader #13th doctor #sacha dhawan #modern day au

[noforkingclue]

A Quiet Kind of Love (Orlo x reader)

So, did I just write a Count Orlo fic after binging a load of clips on youtube??? Yes, yes I did. Don’t judge!

You ran through the corridors of the palace, hitching up the skirts of your dress so you didn’t trip over them. You were finding the court suffocating and infuriating but your father and mother refused to let you leave and come home.

“It’s our future,” said your mother and she shoved you into the carriage, “Think about that.”

“And try not to fuck this up,” grunted your father, “You already let one engagement fail. You’re there to find and husband and make connections, not drink too much vodka like your brother.”

“Yes mother, yes father. I understand.”

And you did. Play nice, keep your head down and make powerful connections. You were doing this for your family.

 Your footsteps echoed around the empty corridor made you made a conscious effort to slow down. You didn’t want to seem to be rushing anywhere and start any unneeded rumours. It was already suspected that you held the court in contempt and while that was true you were slowly getting back into Emperor Peter’s good books. You played the country idiot well and he was amused by you which was how you managed to survive for so long.

Finally you reached you destination- the library. You gently pushed open the doors a crack and slipped inside. You shut them with a click and relaxed against the wood. However you quickly pushed yourself off the door and walked towards your destination. It was hidden far within the library, a small alcove with just a couple of armchairs. You stumbled across it be accident one day and it had become your secret meeting place ever since.

Orlo looked up when you approached and gave you a small smile. You returned it and sat down. Even though it was night you were still alert in case anyone approached. You were always on high alert but with Orlo next to you, you could relax slightly.

You didn’t know how it started. Maybe it was because you were the quietest among the courtiers and Peter enjoyed ridiculing you the most. Or maybe it was because you kept bumping into him (in case literally) when you were in the library. That was when he first spoke to you. You were looking for a book a he practically shoved one into your hands and recommended it before running away.

Your hand dropped over the arm rest as you lost yourself in your book. You jumped slightly when you felt finger brush against your own and you looked up to see an embarrassed Orlo.

“Sorry.” He said quickly, “I didn’t mean-“

You just smiled and quickly grabbed his hand, entwining your fingers together. Orlo looked shocked before he relaxed and turned back to his own book. The only sounds between the two of you was the crackle of the candles and the rustle of turning pages. This was all you needed to be happy.

#fanfiction #the great #count orlo #count orlo x reader #orlo x reader