Obnoxious, sour, call him whatever you want, Orter MĂĄdl couldn't care less about what people thought of him. You canât help but wonder if thatâs what you find attractive, or if you just have a thing for authoritative, serious-looking jerks (because I do).
Warnings: slight angst? orter is a jerk, hurt (just a bit) with comfort, reader being too nice.
Note: again with no sleep, sorry for any spelling mistakes, don't stone me to death. thought about making a part 2 for this, no clue yet let me know what y'all think. (i swear i have never simped for a man that hard before)
definitions at the end, but it doesn't matter if you don't read them so no worries! enjoy-
Indeed, Orter was a man who would sweat for the status quo to be protected. If this man had his name on an alignment chart, the creators would have to make up something like âlawful lawfulâ. That is how lawful Orter MĂĄdl gets. It didnât matter to him how people perceived him, or whispered to each other whenever they saw him walk through the large corridors of the Bureau of Magic. Few things mattered to him in fact, but if he had to put them into a list, it would look like this:
Making sure rules and order are respected
Staying undisturbed during working hours (and out of working hours, too)
Not doing anything unnecessary.
He had a very specific routine he followed almost perfectly everyday, and so far, nothing had pushed him to change it. No one had, either, because from an ordinary personâs point of view, Orter was nothing else than a sour workaholic, strict, obnoxious man. Most women (and some men as well) who worked at the Bureau always seemed to look to the ground when crossing his path, while the other ones were too busy gossiping about him being a potential serial killer, since he was âso calm and quietâ. But one (wo)manâs trash is another (wo)manâs treasure and surely enough, you were one hell of a hungry raccoon lady.Â
You had been working at the Bureau for almost a year now, and since the very first time your eyes had landed on him, you knew he was the one you wanted. And since that day, you were one of the only people who even dared speak to himâ if you donât count the other Divine Visionaries as people (because Kaldoâs⌠obsessionš with honey made him a creature, and not a human being, we have to be honest here).Â
Youâd always greet Orter when meeting him in the morning, or wish him to have a nice break time when heâd actually allow himself to take a break, and he would simply greet you back, always giving you the same confused look. Simply seeing him illuminated your days and kept you going through your seemingly unending workload. Yet, as much as you enjoyed these small interactions, the same couldnât be said about him.Â
Orter didnât dislike these despite the way he looked down at you everytime you greeted him. He simply wasnât used to such⌠fervour² from any of his other colleagues. You were certainly very passionate, and he had to put in a lot of effort not to just immediately send you away whenever youâd bring him coffee when you had free time or simply try to chat a little when you were to give him a report.Â
It wasnât against you or anything specifically, but Orter was a firm believer that saving energy was the move. After all, why bother doing anything that is unnecessary?Â
Even if it, indeed, was nothing personal, you were pretty much everything he disliked. Noisy, talkative, full of energy, sPEED, and quite naive as well. The embodiment of a child who has been given too much sugar and is now experiencing the zoomies.Â
And so, like an uninvited grain of sand in his eye, you slithered your way into his daily routine. Each morning, before entering his office, he knew he would encounter you at this specific time of the morning shift, by turning this corner. It happens everyday, and it will happen again today. He knows you get your break at 10:05 am and usually will knock on his office door at exactly 10:11 am to bring him your reports as well as some coffee you grabbed for him.
He knows that in the afternoon, usually between 3:48 pm and 4 pm, youâll find an excuseâ any excuse to bring him some pastries, or any kind of snack with another cup of coffee, but this time a bit more sugary.Â
He has gotten used to it now, but he still cannot quite understand why youâre spending so much energy on him, and when Orter doesnât understand something, he gets frustrated. He does not often interact with anyone, and so the fact that people around him might have feelings is completely unbeknownst to him, or so it seems.Â
Itâs approximately 4pm on that day and, as usual, you knock on his door. He looks up from his paperwork and just mutters to come in, knowing damn well itâs you. But this time, youâre not bringing any coffee or snacks. You just hand him a report you had written, as usual, and he notes that you look a little nervous.
You patiently wait for him to read through your carefully written report. He gives a nod, not even a word, as usual, and this time, instead of immediately leaving, you decide to speak up.
âUmm..â you start, and you start wondering whether this is a good idea or not. Heâs looking at you now, in all of his cold, emotionless expression. âSo⌠would you maybe⌠like to have your coffee break with me this timeâŚ?â you ask, looking away a little bit.
He leans against his chairâs backrest at the suggestion. He could definitely use a break and some coffee right now, but he isnât sure if he can take the amount of energy youâll be talking with for the whole duration of your time together.
âWith you?â He asks, and youâre unsure if he means this in a mocking way, or if heâs just asking. You shyly nod and he adjusts the position of his glasses a little bit. âI could use a break,â he starts âbut Iâm not sure I can handle more of your⌠eagerness to converseÂł.â
It hurts quite a lot; you knew Orter had always been blunt, but to hear it from his mouth was something else. Were you really bothering him that much? Maybe he didnât mean it in a bad way? After all, he did have a lot of work, and of course heâd like to free his mind a little bit and enjoy peaceful silence with his afternoon coffee. He quickly takes note of your nervous squirming and your lack of response.
âI donât think this is a good idea,â he finally says after what seemed like an eternity âI donât want this headache to get any worse.â
A headache. Was this really all you were to him?
âI.. can stay quiet if youâd like me to, but I would really like to haveââ
âNo, thank you. Iâll have coffee on my own. â He cuts you off, looking back to his paperwork, probably very oblivious to the fact that he just hurt you deeply. âI donât understand why youâre so eager to interact with me when all Iâm really asking for is to be undisturbed.â Was it personal, or was it because of his lack of human interaction? Well, both meant the same to you, if you really were the only person he interacted with, it was directly against you.
You didnât know what to say. You wouldnât give up on him, of course, but your entire personality had just proven to be a nuisance to him, and you werenât sure how youâd recover from this one. You had been standing for a minute, looking at the ground in front of his desk, before his authoritative voice you loved so much pulled you out of your overthinking.
You shake your head ânoâ and promptly exit his office now. It sounded clear to you that you were a disturbance to him, and it was the complete opposite of what you wanted to be. But again, no matter how bad his rejection felt, you decided youâd be a little more like he wished youâd be: invisible, silent.
You made a mental note to change your behaviour around him and stop being so clingy and noisy all the time, then maybe, if you destroyed this personality of yours he seemed to loathe, maybe he would look at you. Even just once.
Orter arrives at the Bureau the next day as usual, and already knows youâll be just around the corner where he meets you everyday. He gives a sigh and walks around⌠to find no one. He blinks a few times in surprise, but simply assumes youâll be somewhere else, ready to greet himâŚ. But thereâs no sign of you. Or rather there is one, but itâs only the usual morning coffee you give him, and itâs sitting on his desk inside his office. You, on the other hand, arenât here.
âProbably a different schedule today.â he thinks and quickly dismisses it to sit at his desk and remove his coat. He takes a few sips of the warm coffee and sighs before diving into his unending paperwork again.
As expected, there is a knock on his door at 10:11 am. He lets you come in and is pleased to see youâre still bringing him some coffee, along with your usual report. You quietly greet him and hand him the papers as you put the tall coffee cup on his desk, and await his review. Again, he gives you a nod and puts the papers back into his drawer, and as he looks up from his paperwork again to listen to your usual morning talk, heâs surprised to see you leave his office without a word.
âProbably has more work today.â he thinks, dismissing the change in your behaviour as the man sinks into his paperwork once more. You, on the other side, are only hoping your efforts arenât vain. Youâve practised staying silent for a bit and you think youâre nailing it, honestly. All for the sake of the obnoxious, lawful man.
It doesnât occur to him even once that you might be in emotional pain from his words; he isnât well versed with other peopleâs feelingsâ and probably not his own either. You probably have more work today, and thatâs why youâre not as talkative as usual. Or maybe youâre tired. Are you sick?
He stops himself for a second and takes off his glasses to rub his eyes a little; no. No, no. It shouldnât matter to him whether you are ill or simply tired. He has too much work to do to care about one of his coworkers.
Roughly around 3:50 pm, you knock on his door again, bringing in the usual pastries and sweet coffee. Now, heâs wondering which excuse you found to visit him as he crosses his hands on his desk and looks at you intently.
His eyes on you start to feel uncomfortable. Itâs like heâs tearing your soul open and trying to figure out whatâs going on in this little skull of yoursâ´, and really, it isnât just an impression. He was expecting you to ask him out again, or talk about the weather, complain about your workload, but none of these words escape your mouth. A simple, polite âhave a good afternoonâ, and youâre gone immediately.
Your schedule must really be something else for you to quit pestering him about your state of mind like you used to do. But again, he takes a bite of the delicious pastries you brought him, and keeps working in religious silence as he occasionally takes a sip of the sweet coffee you delivered.
Time flies fast, and itâs already evening. You clock out, as one does, and as you walk away from your office, you encounter Orter, who seems to be clocking out at the same time. And this is when the overthinking kicks in. Is he going to think you waited for him? Will he believe it was a mere coincidence? What if he thinks youâre being clingy and annoying for clocking out at the same time?Â
But your thoughts come to an end as he simply walks away without a word; maybe he just doesnât care. Right, maybe he just doesnât care. It probably didn't matter whether you were quiet or talkative, hyper or calm. He probably didnât care.
The next morning, you arrive earlier at the Bureau, as you did yesterday, and fulfil your morning routine: getting a few snacks for yourself, and a tall coffee for Orter. But unfortunately, the cafeteria is a bit more crowded than usual, and you end up exiting it at the same time you usually did.Â
He encounters you again at the very same corner, and he is now convinced you simply had a rough schedule yesterday, but as he was about to greet you, you simply hand him the coffee and walk away towards your office without a word.Â
The day goes on like the previous one; you barely exchange any words with him, and he makes no effort to change this. Youâre quiet, reserved now, and you just internally pray that he will like you more. This isnât you, but you will be whoever he wants you to be, if thereâs the slightest chance that he will look at you.
What you were completely clueless about was how this little change of yours was affecting him. At first he didnât think much of it, but he had gotten used to your nonstop talking, to your cheerful voice when you greeted him, and to the very specific hours youâd come to visit him and ask him out or talk about everything and nothing.Â
Orter was going nuts. The routine he had gotten used to was crumbling for reasons unknown, and he couldnât understand why, it was beyond his power. The grain of sand in his eyeâľ had become an entire desert, and the frustration was great enough that he could barely focus on his work anymore. Something was missing. He needed to figure it out quickly.
His focus was long gone, and all he could think about was why the usual, cheerful girl who always greeted him with a smile and warm coffee had become so⌠dull and painfully normal. Had you been sick the whole time? Why did he even care in the first place?
But as much as he disliked admitting it, he had grown quite fond of your behaviour, even though his words had proven to oppose this fact. He needed to make sure of what was lacking in his daily routine now. You were still here, you still brought him coffee everyday, did your job correctly⌠What could be missing?
His mind was a complete mess and he could not get you out of his head for some reason, which made him even more annoyed. You were such a headache and a nuisance, right? He couldnât possibly be going insane from the lack of⌠you?
As usual, at 10:11 am sharp, you visit his office with your daily report and his coffee. This time though, he doesnât take the papers from your hands and just crosses his legs, looking straight into your eyes. âI would like you to read it out loud for me.â
Read it out? You ask yourself, why couldnât he read it himself? But again, we are talking about Orter MĂĄdl; this man could tell you to get on all fours and bark, and you would gladly do it without giving it a second thought.
â...right.â You started, a little confused at his sudden request. âThe Bureauâs investigation on Magol CastleâŚâ
Your words grew distant to him, but not your voice. He wasnât listening, he was listening. He felt himself oddly soothed at your tone, for once, as he kept trying to find this missing piece of the jigsaw. But it was as if his focus had returned and he could finally get back to work. As soon as you stopped talking, he extended a hand for you to give him the reports, and you did.
âGood, very good. Iâll read it again later.â
You stood in awe for a second; Orter had just praised you. Your efforts were working, and now you just had to keep going and stay quiet most of the time. You gave a polite nod and walked away from his desk.Â
That was it. You were the missing piece. But it made no sense, since you hadn't left, you were still here with him at the very moment... but then why did it feel like you weren't?
You turn around as you hear him speak and you just stand there, waiting for him to keep going. The silence is heavy and it seems like an eternity before he finally speaks up again.
âYouâve been⌠quiet.â He remarks, his eyes never leaving yours, and you couldnât tell whether he meant this in a good or a bad way. Of course, his expressions always suggested that everything he said was to be taken in a bad way, but you knew better than to assume anything, especially about Orter MĂĄdl. âWhy?â he asks, and thereâs an undertone of desperation in his voice. He sounds like heâs at his witâs end.
At this point, you canât really do anything else than speak up and tell the truth, can you? So you take a few steps towards his desk and nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt.
âI⌠do not wish to be a nuisance or give you a headache.â You simply reply, in all of your honesty, and he looks at you, clueless and distraught now. Was that the reason why you had been silent the entire time? Were you driving him completely crazy because of what he said to you?
He buries his face in his hands and sighs. His glasses were slightly falling from his nose now that his hands were rubbing it entirely. You walk around his desk and gently push his glasses back in place, his state worrying you a little bit. You had never seen him being affected by anything before, so you were a bit confused.
âAre you alright..?â You quietly asked, not daring to touch him too much, lest heâd find you clingy, but the man sighed loudly once again and cleared his throat, his hands crossing against his desk again.
âYou are driving me insane, (Y/N).â
Youâve never heard him speak your name before, and it felt⌠rather nice. You couldnât tell if his words were meant to be good or bad though, so you only stood next to him and waited for him to speak up again. An uninvited feeling of guilt made its way to your heart and you couldnât help but feel like all of this was your fault. You only wanted him to look at you, to make his life a little easier⌠but instead, you had somehow wrecked it.
After what seemed like an eternity, Orter was still dead silent, and you had to do something.
âI⌠Iâm sorryâŚâ you mutter quietly, not fully sure of what you did, but feeling the urge to apologise anyway. His state was more than concerning and you were the cause for it. âI⌠meant no harm, with whatever I did to youâŚâ
And then something hits him. A feeling heâs probably rarely felt before: guilt. He looks up at you, and you clearly look like youâre holding back your tears as you shamefully look away from him. It takes all of his energy not to get angryâ but at himself this time. He was the one who caused this situation, not you.
âIt wasnât your fault, only mine.â He sighed as he took off his glasses and started wiping them to distract himself from your sad expression that was awakening a myriad of new feelings within him. âI shouldnât have said those things. I⌠did get quite used to your company. Please, feel free to speak as much as you want.â
He looks up at you, and despite the fact that he still isnât smiling, his eyes are softer now, his expression is gentler and his voice has lost its authority. He is just asking you to speak to him. It isnât even an order, he is actually pleading.
You canât help this slight blush from creeping up to your cheeks as you try to regain your composure. You had gotten praised by Orter today, and he even pleaded with you and apologised? It was clearly your lucky day, so you thought you might as well try your luck. You cleared your throat a little.
âA-hem⌠so⌠maybe you⌠would like to have coffee with me this time?â You ask, timidly.
Orter merely chuckles, still not letting his face sport the ghost of a smile. He simply pushes his glasses up to his nose and stands up, pulling his coat back to his shoulders.Â
š: this man will cover his sashimi in honey and proclaim itâs still edible.
²: read â insistence.Â
â´: empty, hollow. Not a single thought behind those eyesâ or so he thinks.
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