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sikuthealien · 4 days

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BET

Pairing: Bakugou x gn!reader (pls lmk if I messed something up)

Warnings: Angst to fluff. Cussing. Bakugo kinds ooc idk really but pls lmk if I missed something

Word Count: 883

A/N: Tee-hee~~, didn't see this coming did ya?

(Requests open)

You were walking through the dorms looking for your boyfriend Bakugou, you two were supposed to go out and watch a movie. Walking through the halls, you heard his voice booming from Kaminari’s room, the door slightly ajar. You placed your hand on the doorknob with the intention of opening it when you heard your name being mentioned.

“So, how are things going with you and y/n huh? Someone asked, though from his voice you could tell it was probably Kirishima.

“That’s none of your fucking business stupid hair. And sparky! WHERE’S MY FUCKING MONEY! The deal was that I date them and you all pay me 1k!!” Bakugou shouted at Kaminari

“Oh come on, you’re still on that? That was so long ago?”

“A BET’S A FUCKING BET YOU IDIOT, I’M DATING Y/N AREN’T I? SO FUCKING GIVE ME MY MONEY! A BET’S A BET!”

“I was a bet?” you whispered softly, and yet still loudly enough for the three guys in the room to hear. They all looked up at you with mortified expressions.

“Fuck y/n-”Bakugou tried to speak up but you cut him off.

“Is that all I was to you?!! A FUCKING BET!?” It all made sense now. Bakugou had always so harsh to you and you always just assumed that it was his personality, but no. Of course not.

“Y/N please, hear me out-”

“No! FUCK NO!, WHY SHOULD I?! Bakugou did this past year mean nothing to you?! EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH! IT MEANS NOTHING HUH?! FUCK YOU KATSUKI BAKUGOU! FUCK YOU!””

Tears were streaming endlessly down your face as you turned around and ran to your dorm room. You could hear Bakugou running behind you but you didn’t care, slamming the door in his face.

He began to bang on your door, calling out for you but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen. You ran to your bed, buried your head in your pillow and cried your guts out. You really loved him. You really, truly did.And you thought he loved you too, but it looks like you were wrong.

It's been a day and your phone has been blowing up with texts and missed calls from your worried friends and now ex boyfriend.

BAKUGOU

5:43 pm

Baby

Baby please listen to me

11:24 pm

I promise I can explain

Please just listen to me

I love you, I promise you weren't just a bet

Please Y/N, Please!

2:23 am

My love just talk to me, I can explain

Littered in between those texts were over 20 missed calls. He had filled your voicemail with begs and professions of love but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen anymore.

Just as you were shutting your phone off, you were met with frantic knocking. You were about to shout at Bakugou to go away when you were meant with the voices of his two best friends.

“ Y/N, It’s Kaminari and Kirishima, please open the door, we have something to say.” Kaminari said softly through the door.

“GO AWAY!” You shouted back, voice hoarse from all the crying.

“Y/N Please, just let us talk to you and then you can do whatever you want. We just want to fix our mistake.”

You sighed, dragging yourself and opened the door, ready to go off on them, but were silenced by the distress on their faces. They quickly made their way into your room and you closed the door behind them.

“Please make it quick” you said in annoyance, as they began to ramble back and forth

“Ok, please just hear us out.” Kirishima started.

“So, like a while back, Bakugou had a HUGE crush on you.”

“So we made a bet with him”

“We told him to ask and we’ll pay him” okay, now they are losing you..

“Guys wha-”

“Listen, listen, listen, we didn’t do it to embarrass you.”

“We did it because we knew he wouldn’t have the balls to ask you out otherwise.”

“But he loves you Y/N, Bakugou FUCKING loves you.”

“Things only got messed up because of the bet we made with him.”

“Right now he’s a fucking mess”

“He was crying for hours and now he’s not talking, eating…”

“He locked us out of his dorm and isn’t talking to anyone.”

You didn’t let them finish their rant and ran to Katsuki’s drom.You started to knock but were met with silence.

“Suki, please open the door.” You heard a bunch of rustling and the door swung open violently.

Your heart broke as you looked at Bakugou. His hair was a mess and his eyes were red and swollen from all the crying.

You leapt into his hands and hugged him tight. He wrapped his hand around you and cried. He kept on muttering apologies over and over again. It was going to be okay, you two will be okay.

BONUS!!:

You two were laying in his bed as he rested his head on your chest, listening to your heart beat.

“So…you had a crush on me~~” you asked him

“If you don’t shut up right now I will fucking murder you.” he whispered, before snuggling deeper into you.”

“Sure honey, you do that.”

He was absolutely killing those two idiots.

Hiiiiiii~~ So I tried sum newww, let me know how you feel abt it. also, is it Bakugou or Bakugo because every time I pu Bakugo it auto corrects to Bakugou

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sikuthealien · 9 days

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can we all agree that nagi has a big dick

like bigger than the others

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sikuthealien · 9 days

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my asexual awakening just came in the form of an argument in a group chat about why sexual convos were necessary in a public chat that might make some people uncomfortable especially when it’s constant and my exact thought process was

“wow am I the only one who gets uncomfortable with this and doesn’t get why it’s necessary—oh.”

turns out I’m not a prude, I’m just Ace

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sikuthealien · 9 days

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it's international asexuality day! remember to celebrate by giving ur local asexual 100$ and listening to the m o s t graphic sex joke that you'd never expect from them 💜

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sikuthealien · 9 days

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Every fictional character is aroace til' proven otherwise

(Source: I said so)

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sikuthealien · 9 days

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More Mashle + Shit I find on pinterest

1 2 3 4

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sikuthealien · 9 days

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What, exactly, did Horikoshi and Gege even talk about for THIS to happen???

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sikuthealien · 14 days

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Hey, everyone! Get ready because it's that time of year again! Our favorite gremlin Bakugo's birthday is coming up, and since I wasn't part of the fandom last year, I've decided it's time to throw a party for my beloved character!

Here's the plan: I'm creating a quick poll for you to vote on your favorite prompts for Bakugo's birthday celebration. Some are spicy, while others are pure fluff. The top three prompts with the most votes will be the ones I'll be writing for his big day. I'll start posting them on Saturday, the 20th, and finish on Sunday, the 21st (CET)

Please reblog to spread the word! ♥

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sikuthealien · 16 days

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I NEED MORE OF THIS CUZ WHAT

I WANT THIS SO BAD IRL SO I WANNA FEEL THE FEELS BEFORE I ACTUALLY EXPERIENCE IT

( im delusional)

it feels like the death penalty.

Orter Mádl x f!reader

Having to leave him because of your father's decision is the worst outcome you could imagine.

Warnings: female reader, angst with comfort, arranged marriage, anxiety, mentions of death (only mentions).

Note: written in approximately 15 minutes, not proofread, no sleep.

word count: 1.8k ish

i swear i have never simped that hard for a man. sorry for any mistakes, i am very tired <3

As a fellow Divine Visionary, Orter Mádl was not exactly the perfect colleague. Intimidating, cold and sometimes even condescending, working with him could be a hassle for most people, but it wasn’t for you.

His attitude had nothing on his allure, his punctuality and his diligence. You admired him as an absolute idol even though you and him had the same status now. You were probably the only one in the whole Bureau who could stand spending time with him, and also the only one he tolerated as well.

The two of you had become a really good team, being sent on missions together and sometimes celebrating an especially hard one at the bar, but that was all.

To him, you were but another colleague, maybe a little more friendly and likeable than the others but it was nothing more; yet to you, he was your reason to wake up in the morning and clock in.

It was pretty much obvious to anyone who wasn’t him that your feelings were beyond “friendship”.

You had always been raised in a traditional way for women; taking dancing and piano classes, learning manners and ethics, and mostly; you knew you wouldn’t get to choose whoever you married.

Before you had met Orter, you were quite indifferent to that fact. What was an arranged marriage other than an alliance between two families, after all? You didn’t need to love your husband; and a marriage would only be an etiquette put on you and whoever your parents would pick for you.

But the more you spent time around him, the more your heart ached at the thought of never being able to have him, ever. Marrying another man suddenly became your nightmare, and a sword of Damocles hanging over your head every day and night, like an impending sense of doom you knew you couldn’t escape.

One morning before clocking in, you had received a note from your father: he had found a suitor for you, and you would get to meet him as soon as you’d come home. For the first time since you had started working at the bureau, you couldn’t muster your usual smile; only a polite one to greet the man you could never have.

Spending time with him, working in his office or having a random coffee break was just painful now, and your usual clinging to this hope that maybe, just maybe you’d ever be able to be more than just colleagues was starting to grow distant like an echo.

As dense as he was, your depressed demeanour did not go unnoticed by Orter and as you sipped on your coffee, he let go of his pen and looked at you, adjusting his glasses.

“Is something the matter today? You aren’t quite as energetic as usual.”

Where to begin? Were you supposed to tell him about it? Your father would probably dislike that very much, and you didn’t want to bring it up around him anyway, lest he’d find out about your feelings if you accidentally let it slip.

“Just received some… terrible news from my father this morning, it’s nothing you should concern yourself with." You politely said and gave him a small smile; as honest as you could. But your chest and throat felt tight and every second you spent looking at him only brought you closer to tearing up.

He simply gave a nod and kept working, yet your eyes simply couldn’t let go of his figure, like a death row prisoner savouring their last meal before facing the ultimate punishment. You probably wouldn’t be allowed to keep working around him after today, would you? A sigh escaped your lips as you plunged your mind right back into your paperwork, determined to finish it before you would have to leave it forever.

“Say,” Orter started. “I think you have been working very hard lately, and I must say I am not against blowing some steam off.” He trailed off, his eyes now on yours, with his usual neutral face. “I have an appointment after work, but what about a drink at the bar afterwards?”

Yet another thing you would have to let go… you wouldn’t ever be able to spend these private moments with him anymore, and the thought made you swallow your emotions down as hard as you could.

“I wish I could, but I unfortunately have something to do with my family tonight.” You managed to speak without tearing up or letting your feelings get the best of you; you couldn’t, no matter how hard it was.

He hummed in understanding and went back to his paperwork, he didn’t seem too bothered either… After all, why would he? You were but a colleague for him and, as likeable as you were, there was nothing more to it.

Every minute spent in his office felt like your doom was approaching, and time flew really quickly today, no matter how much paperwork you were torturing yourself with. Although you were focused on your work, many thoughts crossed your mind.

You had already refused the idea of running away; where would you go anyway? And you’d obviously be running away from Orter as well. You could always refuse your suitor, but your parents would not let that slide and you would probably be severely punished for it.

…unless your future husband was the one refusing you; then there would be no issue, right? If you were unbearable, rough and ungraceful, maybe he wouldn’t see you as a possible partner anymore, and you could always play dumb if your father scolded you afterwards.

There weren’t many options, but this one was probably the least unrealistic. Of course, you would rather ask Orter to take you and elope, but you were sure as hell that he would refuse and not even understand where that request is coming from.

The day went on rather quickly and, before you left to clock out, you stood in front of his desk for a bit longer than necessary, your eyes on his.

“I’m glad we became such a great team, Orter. I don’t think I would’ve appreciated working with anyone else that much.”

He raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair in surprise. Why would you say such a thing? “Are you planning on leaving?” He asked, clearly a little suspicious. “I doubt you would say such a thing on any normal day.”

You gulped down and chuckled a little dryly, looking at his desk while your hands fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “I… might not be able to work here anymore starting tomorrow, I don’t know yet. So, just in case I do have to quit, I just wanted you to know that you have been a fantastic coworker.”

He was a little taken aback by your sudden gratitude. In fact, no one had ever complimented him that way since he was rather cold and sour to other people, but he accepted it nonetheless. “Thank you, (Y/N). You have also been a great coworker, no matter what happens, I hope you will find satisfaction in the path you are following.”

“...thank you.” You turned around immediately as you felt tears grow in the corners of your eyes, and you couldn’t let him see it. You simply waved at him and left his office, every step you took feeling heavier and heavier. All you could hope for was that your potential suitor wouldn’t make you stop working at the Bureau.

Your chauffeur was waiting for you outside and you sat on the back seat as if it was an electric chair. The ride home felt awfully quick and you couldn’t stop squirming and nervously pulling on your sleeves in anxiety.

As soon as you stepped inside your family’s manor, your father ordered you to get changed into something more refined, and hearing his authoritative tone demotivated you from your initial goal of appearing rude and ungraceful; the consequences would be too great.

You stepped into your room and picked a nice black dress that stopped at your ankles and had long sleeves. Your shoes were simple, with small heels to make your legs appear thinner. A bride supposedly dresses in white, for her marriage is the happiest day in her life, and here you were, wearing all black. It fit you really well and you were still graceful; your father probably wouldn’t say anything about it.

As you brushed your hair, you put on some discrete jewellery and refreshed your makeup a little, reminding yourself not to cry so you wouldn’t ruin it a second time.

The belfry that tolls your death knell resonated in the form of a knock, followed by the screeching of the front door. Now was probably your last chance to jump out the window and run away, but you knew better than to disappoint your parents in such a way.

One of the maids came to get you, and you made sure to take your time and walk slowly, savouring these last moments of freedom, your mind filled with Orter’s face and voice, his beautiful golden eyes, the way he would look so silly whenever he took his glasses off to rest, and the words he had said today.

A long sigh escaped you and you stepped into the living room, your eyes on the ground the whole time as you sat on the couch next to your father, finally facing the man who was unwillingly about to crush all of your dreams, not even sparing a glance at him.

“My offer still stands, (Y/N).” The man spoke and your eyes widened slightly. It had this tone, this unmistakable neutrality to it, a voice you could probably differentiate amongst thousands. You looked up slowly and your heart stopped beating for a second.

Here he was, sitting in front of you, next to his own father, his legs crossed and his figure leaning back against the couch as he adjusted his glasses. You couldn’t believe your eyes and immediately thought you were dreaming.

Why, of all the people your father could have chosen, why was Orter Mádl the one sitting in your living room? You were suffocating, but not in a bad way. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders and chest, your diaphragm finally free from the oppressing grip anxiety had on it.

“That is, of course, if your father allows it.” He added, looking at your father who chuckled in a surprised way. It seemed he had no idea Orter was your coworker— and additionally, the only man you truly desired. “Am I allowed to take your daughter out?”

You looked at your father in surprise, and he looked back at you in confusion. “Why, yes. It would be better if you two get to know each other first anyway.” He added, and you let out a sigh of relief. Sure, Orter was probably not in love with you, but this scenario was much better than you had anticipated. He stood up and adjusted his waistcoat and tie, then held out a hand for you to take.

“Well then, miss (L/N), let’s have a drink and talk about this all, shall we?”

And suddenly, it felt like the death penalty wasn’t so bad anymore.

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sikuthealien · 16 days

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And probably have a nonexistent heartbreak with my one sided crush of 7 years

An angst would go so well together w this song

Edit : angst = gut wrenching heart breaking heart aching angst that is

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sikuthealien · 16 days

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An angst would go so well together w this song

Edit : angst = gut wrenching heart breaking heart aching angst that is

#angst #Spotify

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sikuthealien · 17 days

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secrets kept between stars | orter madl

— synopsis. in which orter madl tries to understand you

— pairing. orter madl x gn visionary reader

— genres. fluff, some angst, a little comfort, orter in major denial

— warnings. implied child abuse on reader but there are no descriptions.

— word count. 4.7k

— notes. markus is a made up character. i am reposting this… enjoy!

“Hey Orter!” You call over the wind that beats down at your face. It sends goosebumps throughout your entire body, but there’s no time to worry about it. You were soaring in the sky, riding the broom that you mastered years ago, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“What is it?” Orter responds, although barely audible. The wind drowns him out, and he refuses to yell.

“Let’s make a bet,” You suggest, a mischievous smile donning your features. Orter doesn’t even attempt to hide the scowl and glare directed towards you as you spoke those words. His reaction makes you grin wider.

The Desert Cane brings his face back to front, as if to focus on what’s ahead (and not the idiot to the right of him). “Now’s not the time for your games, (Y/N), especially now.”

The only reason Orter has to put up with you and your antics is because of the attack coordinated by the Madjinn. If he wanted to, he would have handled the Madjinn by himself, no sweat. But direct orders from Wahlberg say otherwise, and who would dare cross him?

“Come on,” You pout, clearly disregarding his opinions. “Let’s raise the stakes a bit.”

“The stakes are high enough.”

You pause for a moment. The gears in your head running at a hundred miles per hour to figure out how you can rope him into your offer. The two of you are about to drop in on perhaps the most destructive creatures of your world, and yet, you don’t seem to be bothered by the fact. That’s why Orter can not work with you. You’re too carefree, too busy chasing the thrills provided by this magic filled world. It makes him wonder why the hell you even became a Visionary if you weren’t going to take it seriously.

No matter how many hours he spent trying to grasp the reasons behind all of your brazen thoughts and actions, he came up with an answer that would equate to a grand total of nothing. That was the other problem with you. You are complex beyond his understanding.

“How about this?” You start, preparing to share your suggestion with him. “A simple competition.”

Orter stares distantly, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t a bit curious about what you were about to offer.

A proud smirk glazes over your face. “I bet that I can defeat more Madjinn than you. If I’m right, you owe me a favor, and vice versa.”

Now that is loaded. You’re strong. Orter is not denying that. If you weren’t then it just wouldn’t be logical for you to be a Divine Visionary. But to imply that you could do better than him does not sit soundly with him.

“So Madl, what’s it going to be?” You cock your head to the side, throwing a glance his way, taking in his stone-cold expression. He slides the frames of his round glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You’re plotting something. You always are. Orter knows better than to fall for your tricks.

He gives in.

“Suit yourself.”

You flash a smile, knowing that’s as close to a yes as you were ever going to get. Without another word, you tip yourself backwards off your broom. Orter’s eyes widen slightly as you freefall from the sky. It takes him a moment to process what just happened. His body reacts faster than his mind. Before he knows it, he’s riding his broom to follow you down.

Are you crazy? What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck was he doing going after you?

You’re approaching the ground at a speed that would have any normal person screaming in terror. But you would much rather die than be normal. Orter doesn’t get it. You play with life and death as if it were some game. He considers going in to save you. He considers whether he should offer his hand or use his magic to protect you. He swears that he’s thinking about this in a logical perspective because one Divine Visionary dying is a hindrance to the rest. But deep down, his heart betrays his mind, telling him that his reasonings have nothing to do with logic. He denies that too.

There’s a Madjinn coming into view. And the thought of saving you flies out his head as he finally pieces together your careless action. You pull out your wand from your coat, (it surprisingly has not gotten lost during the descent), yet you make no move to cast a spell. Every passing second of your inaction stresses Orter. What are you waiting for?

Orter’s about ready to take this matter into his own hands. The cantation of a spell is at the tip of his tongue, but before he can get the first word out, the Madjinn vanishes. Every trace of its existence disappears with it. The Desert Cane can’t help but turn your way. Any sign of your previous playfulness is buried under your emotionless face.

You land onto the earth’s dirt with ease. Orter realizes he unknowingly summoned his sand to soften your landing. He remains suspended on his broom, observing you from above. You meet his cold eyes with your own. The Madjinn slip past the barriers of your minds as if they aren’t currently terrorizing the world, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you.

But then you break out into that shit-eating grin while holding up a single finger. One. Orter snaps himself back to reality. You had just defeated a Madjinn like lightwork, and he didn’t even know how. You’re strong. He knows that, but looking back, when has he ever had an opportunity to witness your magic in person? Before today, you’ve only ever taken solo missions. Wahlberg doesn’t allow anyone to accompany you no matter how dangerous it is.

So that begs the question,

Just what the hell are you?

Orter lets out a huff of breath as he watches the sixth Madjinn fall to the will of his sand, an enormous hole blasted into its chest. He pushes his glasses up the frame of his nose. He hovers in the air for one last moment, eyes scanning the scape of the land to ensure that there are no other monsters.

After obtaining the confirmation he needs, Orter guides himself back onto the loose soil of the earth. He brushes off microscopic specks of dirt off the sleeves of his black robe. A snap of a branch captures the attention of the Visionary. His eyes follow the darkness of the trees. He waits for something, anything, to pop out. He grips his wand in anticipation.

Instead, it’s only you. The cool face you held earlier was more relaxed. Dirt and sweat smears across your entire face. You quickly spot Orter, and you break out into your standard warm smile.

“Oh hey, Orter.” You greet. There’s a slight stumble to your steps, but he can see you’re putting every ounce of your effort into keeping straight. “You alright? You didn’t get too fucked up by any Madjinn, did you?”

Orter Madl swallows down the urge to reprimand you for your choice of words. He’s aware of the joking tone laced in your words, but nonetheless, the concern twists his stomach.

“By the way, how many did you get?” You follow up with a twinkle in your eyes that displays your excitement. The bet. You were talking about the bet he agreed to in the sky.

Orter adjusts his glasses out of habit as he sighs, “Six.”

You stare at him with wide, bright eyes, lips tugging into a wide smile. He couldn’t read it. What were you trying to express to him? Did he win? Did he lose? Hold on. Why the fuck does it even matter to him?

“Let me know when you want to cash in that favor,” You respond with a wink. But before he could even pitch in, your eyes roll to the back of your head, legs giving out.

And you fall.

“They’ll be fine,” The nurse informs. “They overexerted themselves while using their magic, but they’ll be back on their feet after a few days' rest.”

“Alright, thank you.” Ryoh nods. The nurse takes it as a sign to dismiss herself.

With your caretaker out of the room, Ryoh lets out a heavy sigh. Orter observes your sleeping figure, studying every inch of your face. You’re… serene, like an angel, he thinks. The energy that typically bursts through you during the day is locked away. The goddamn smile you wear on your face finally takes a break here. This is you, you at zero percent. And all it took for you to reach that is two couples of Madjinn. For a Visionary, that should be lightwork. Perhaps a little draining but not to the point where you collapse. Just what kind of limits did your magic have? He digs through his mind, searching for any reasonable explanation that would answer that. He comes up with zilch.

Ryoh collapses himself onto a chair by your bed, legs crossed. “You really are an idiot. Always trying to act like you're the best magic user in the world when we both know that it’s me,” He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Orter wonders if you can hear him. “You’re gonna get an earful from me when you wake up.”

Orter doesn’t know why he stays. He could’ve left the moment after he dropped you off, but he didn’t. Even when Ryoh learned of your condition and assured him that it was okay for him to leave, he didn’t. You’re foolish. Foolish for not realizing the limits of your magic. Foolish for pushing yourself further than you should have. It’s stupid. He’s stupid. He’s stupid for being so worked up over you despite the fact that you’re fine. Stupid for letting you dominate his thoughts when he’s “convinced” that he doesn’t care about you.

“If you’re gonna stay, you might as well pull up a chair or something,” Ryoh remarks, slicing the quietness that engulfed the infirmary.

Orter exhales lightly. “There’s no need.”

“Whatever suits you, man.”

They fall back into the rhythm of silence, both too prideful to speak to the other despite working with each other for months.

“Hey Orter,” Ryoh starts, eyebrows creased slightly. “What do you really know about (Y/N)?”

It’s a simple question really, yet Orter can’t follow. He’s known you for years, knows the surface of your persona but never anything beyond that. He’s never bothered to dive into personal facts. That’s exactly what Ryoh is trying to pry at. What did he know about your pastimes, your magic, your history, literally anything?

And the answer was that Orter doesn’t know. He doesn’t know you at all.

Ryoh offers a small, sympathetic smile. He offers it like he knows it well. “Can’t come up with anything? Not surprised.”

Orter’s lips twitch onto a frown. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Orter. This has to do more with (Y/N) than it does with you,” Ryoh assures with a wave of his hands. His elbow finds the cushion of your bed. The mattress dips slightly under his weight. He presses his palm into the skin of his cheek, fingers drumming along his skin. “I’m not under any derestriction to say this, but (Y/N) couldn’t share anything with you even if they wanted to.”

With a skeptical glance, Orter begins to ask, “What are you talki-”. There’s a slight stir under the thin coverings of your hospital bed. A faint whine breaks through your lips. Your eyelids twitch, but you don’t make a move to wake.

Your mini disturbance prevents Orter from eliciting anything more out of Ryoh. But from what he could tell, the Light Cane wasn’t planning on sharing anymore either. Instead, he’s left with more questions than answers, and they’re swimming in his mind.

“I’ll see you later, Orter.” Ryoh says at the door, but he knows Orter is too distant for him to bother with a response back. The blonde’s lips tug into a minuscule grin before he’s off to his next destination.

There’s always been some sort of force to you. The kind of force that draws others to you whether they like it or not. It’s not a spell, not any sort of magic. It’s just… you. Orter knows it. He himself has fallen victim to it. Pull them in, but don’t let them get too close. You live by that. And with the new information from Ryoh, Orter can’t help but wonder how much of it was real. How many lies spilled from your mouth for the sake of whatever you had to protect?

It’s another late night at the Bureau for Orter. Paperwork always seems to find him. The space in his office is illuminated with the flames of candlelight. With the tip of his quill dipped in black, he signs off the final signature of the night.

Orter leans into the back of his chair. His eyes find the ceiling. He studies it as if it was going to whisper the secrets of life into his ear. He deems it useless – sitting around doing nothing, that is. He decides on a stroll around the Bureau. Maybe that’ll be a good way to waste time, or maybe someone else will bother him with more work. The latter is less likely. There isn’t much action during this time of night. There are sure to be a few stragglers, but none have any business with Orter.

His steps reverberate through the halls, echoing down the stairs. He passes by a couple of unfamiliar faces that offer him stiff nods of acknowledgement. He has no clear destination in mind. His legs make all the decisions before his brain can process it. They lead him down familiar paths, and eventually, Orter finds himself in front of the library entrance. Its towering mahogany door is cracked open slightly, strange in the fact that it’s past its closing time.

Curiosity takes over him. The door creaks on its hinges as he opens it, and Orter nearly cringes at the sound. He steps in. He mutters a spell under his breath to light up the tip of his wand, illuminating the darkened space. He cuts his wand across the air of the room. The collections of books become visible for a brief moment before hiding in the darkness once more. Step after step, he ventures deeper into the labyrinth of novels and textbooks.

He finds nothing to indicate what had opened the door of the library. Perhaps this was just a waste of time—time Orter could’ve spent sleeping. Maybe he should chalk it all up to the head librarian locking up incorrectly. That lady is as old as a bat. It’s a miracle to see her functioning properly on the job.

He’s a split second away from turning his back and leaving. There’s a sudden yelp coming from the back that makes him pause in his steps, a crash that lands on the carpeted floor. Without a second thought, Orter’s quick to dodge tables and bookshelves. His legs carry him to the source of the sound.

He finds you holding your left hip as your face contorts into expressions of pain. The spines of the book brush against the sides of his shoes, but he pays no attention to them.

“What are you doing?” Orter looks upon you with shock and perhaps a smidge of horror.

“Oh hey, Orter,” You respond between winces.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” He whispers sharply.

“That’s a good point, a great point even, but I’m going to be honest with you-”

“You forgot? You didn’t think about it? You don’t care?” Orter lists all of your typical excuses at the top of his head.

Your lips contort into a bright smile. All the pain that coursed through your body dissipates, and for a moment, Orter forgets he’s even mad at you.

“You know me so well, Madl.” You tease with a hand over your heart.

“Do I though?” Orter mutters under his breath, not expecting that you’d catch it. But you do.

Your smile falters, eyes softening. You don’t hold back, don’t try to play it off. Just like how you dove headfirst into the Madjinn, you don’t hesitate to confront someone face to face. Sometimes Orter can’t tell if it’s one of your better traits.

“What do you know?” Your voice is soft, hinted with fear.

Orter runs his tongue over his lips. He smooths back his mess of hair with a comb of his hand, but it falls back into the same place as before. “Not much.”

There’s silence. Neither of you know what to say. That is until an idea pops into the Desert Cane’s mind. It’s a shot. It’s a hit or miss if you’ll agree to it.

“Can I use my favor?”

“What?”

“My favor,” Orter steps towards you. “The one from the bet.”

“That’s sudden but sure,” You shrug.

He takes a breath. It’s now or never.

“Tell me who you are. No lies or any other fake information. I want the truth.”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You stare at him, searching his eyes for any sign that he’s messing with you, but all that could be found is determination. Orter is set on obtaining the truth, and you know that nothing you say will stop him until he gets what he wants, and frankly, you’ve always wanted him to know.

“You’re gonna hate me for it.” You admit in a whisper, eyes cast down.

“That is for me to decide.” Orter shoots back. You fall into another beat of silence.

“Come with me.”

The top of the Bureau overlooks the entire town. It’s a place not visited by many, but when it is, they’ll find the best view the realm has to offer. It’s a haven for you, an escape from the horrors of work and the overall busyness of life.

The moonlight casts a glow on the ledge you and Orter sit. A breeze tickles your face. You snuggle into the warmth of your visionary robe as much as you could.

“Orter,” You begin, a solemn look on your face. “What do you know about Markus?”

“Markus,” Orter repeats. “He’s one of the most heinous criminals known to mankind. Not to mention an underling of Innocent Zero.”

But what did Markus have to do-

“What would you do if I told you I was his child?”

Orter’s head snaps towards you, but you’re facing straight ahead.

That’s a joke. You have to be joking. It has to be-

“If you think I’m joking, I’m not,” You enforce as if reading his mind. You avert your gaze to meet Orter’s. “You wanted the truth? This is it.”

The man next to you is stunned into silence. There isn't anything he can say. All he can do is wait for you to explain.

You take a breath. “My father was one of the worst people alive,” You laugh bitterly. “So much to the point where I don’t even think I can even call him a person.”

“You think he would change his ways once a child came around,” You continue with a sigh. “But I guess I wasn’t enough to make the shittiest man alive turn into a good person. Not that I’d want him to be. The things he did…”

You grip the material of your robe so tight that you could practically pierce the fabric. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip to stop them from quivering. You shoot your eyes towards him. “They’re unforgivable. Even if he did change, I would’ve hated for him to live a peaceful life knowing that he’s made others miserable, including mine.”

The stars are intrigued by the heart-to-heart conversation you’re sharing with Orter. There’s far too many of them out tonight, not that you minded. This ledge of the Bureau and the lights of the night have heard all your stories, but they don’t dare share it with the world. There’s no one for them to share it with.

Being open with humans is different. Being vulnerable can cost you. Humans are not the same as stars. They can betray you, abandon you in a single moment when you share your darkest secrets with them. Stars won’t. They keep to themselves, confining themselves to the space beyond earth.

He’s by the books, follows every law and constitution there is set. Orter knows where his sense of justice lies, and when you reveal your all to him, you know that justice is not going to lie with you. You wonder if this is the right decision you’re making, trusting Orter like you do a star. He may resent you. Hell, he might try to kill you too. But if there’s a chance, a small hope that he might not, then you’ll take it with both hands.

“If it weren’t for my magic, he would’ve killed me.” You admit. You take a breath, letting the cool air flow through your lungs.

“Your magic. What is it?” Orter questions.

“Markus called it Void Magic.”

“Void?”

“It sends things,” A pause between your next words. “to a void. I don’t know where. I’ve never been. But wherever I send them, they never come back.”

Orter calculates the words that will spill out of his mouth. You don’t let him, instead choosing to continue on with your tale.

“I was forced to use that magic for bad things, Orter,” Your voice breaks as you say it, and Orter swears he sees your eyes shine with tears.

“He would take me with him to carry out his orders. Told me to send things away. Innocents sent away by my command. I didn’t want to, believe me, I didn’t want to, but if I refused…” You inhaled as an effort to compose yourself. “Let’s just say I had to suffer the consequences, things no child should ever have to experience.”

“How’d you escape him?” Orter asks so delicately that it surprises himself.

A bitter smile takes your face. “Wahlberg. He saved me.”

Orter briefly recalls the details of Markus’s arrest from years ago. The papers said that the Bureau had been able to grasp the location of the heinous criminal. He was cornered by a number of potent mages, including Wahlberg himself. After a vicious battle, Markus was arrested and imprisoned deep within Hecatrice. What the papers never mentioned, though, was a child.

“He saved me from execution. He covered my identity and cut off any ties that I had with Markus. He told me that my magic could be used for good if I honed it right. And I wanted to be good. I wanted to bury the monster that bastard forced onto me. Wahlberg helped me with that. He helped me with everything. That’s why I’m still here today.

“It’s still so difficult. I fear that some day I’ll be spit on by society for what I did. Some days I fear that monster will crawl out again, and everything I worked for ends up being for nothing. That’s why I refuse to get close to anyone. I’m scared that I could end up sending them to the void by accident, because even now, there are still aspects of my magic that I don’t understand.

“I drown in my fear, and from that fear, spawned the front I present to you and to everyone in this goddamn world… Some days I wish that they killed me that day.”

Those last words fall from your lips quietly. Orter wishes you would take it back despite the protests of his mind.

“What keeps you going on the other days?” Orter inquires. That shouldn’t matter to him though.

A look of fondness fills your eyes, and the sadness that weighed down your heart is burned away.

“The fact that I can be better than Markus ever was. The fact that I am free.”

Minutes of silence fall between you two after that. The information that you’ve dumped on him is still processing in his mind. Orter doesn’t get it. His mind, his sense of justice, tells him that you should be punished, to suffer the sins of your crimes. It whispers that your place in society should be stripped away. And his heart, which is so attuned with his mind, counters otherwise. For once they don’t fall into agreement.

(Y/N) is not their father. It tells him. They were only a child forced into the will of their parent. They’re doing better — being better, is that not enough for you?

What should it matter? His mind argues.

“Do you hate me now?” You ask, hesitant. Fearful.

And for once, he’s at a loss. Orter Madl, who’s so sure about everything in his life, has not a single clue in how he should approach your question.

You know the answer, coward. His heart barks. It’s been in front of you this entire time.

And it dawns on him. It hits him like a sprinting horse, knocking the air out of his chest. So that was it. It was something so simple, yet he twisted it to be more complex than it actually was.

“I should,” Orter answers. “All my morals point me in that direction. My head is all for it.” His hands slide the frames of his glasses up. Your eyes track the movement.

“Yet I cannot find it in me to follow it. You’ve consumed my thoughts, filled my mind so much that I made it my mission to figure you out. I wanted to understand you, and I brushed it off as plain curiosity, but it was never that.”

Your heart catches along with your breath. Your head is lost in confusion.

“I am enamored by you. It was always easy as that.”

Orter finds your eyes, full of light and wonder. A gulp trembles down his throat. He makes the mistake of trailing his gaze down to your slightly parted lips and his breath pauses.

It’s as if time slows down to a point where it becomes unmoving. Everything drowns out, and it’s just you and him and the heavenly beings that look on with anticipation from their places in the night sky.

Your hand reaches out for his face. Your fingers delicately sweep strands of hairs out of his eyes.

“I tried. I tried to bury my feelings for you, yet I continued to fail. You have captured my heart, Orter Madl, and it is yours to keep.”

Orter is not prepared for what possesses him next. He closes the space between your bodies. His hand finds the soft skin of your cheek, caressing it so gently that you feel like you could fly. Your lips move in sync with some timidness, adjusting to the feel of each other. Your lips are warm, and it lights every fire within Orter.

He kisses you for every time he wished you near him. You kiss him back for every unspoken word that built in your heart.

Orter thinks he could do this for centuries, spend all his time with his mouth against yours. The way your hands run through the hair on the back of his head is euphoric. He wants you to do that for all of eternity.

When you pull away for air, a selfish part of him wants to bring you back. You opt for a smile, and he settles for that too, for it is something he engraves into his memories.

His forehead presses onto yours, and he exhales joyously. Your body relaxes into his.

“I promise you,” Orter whispers. “I promise you that I will help you in any way I can. I will be a light in your journey.”

Another smile graces your face. You respond to him by sealing your lips with his once more, assuring him that his promise is understood.

The stars always knew that though, but that was yet another secret they kept to themselves.

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sikuthealien · 17 days

Note

💍 orter x reader where he has a soft spot for her yk

Softer than a Cloud

A/N: I nearly typed clothes instead of glasses 😔(Next up Mash)

Warning: Idk

—

"Do you seriously not know how to do your job properly? Get out before I pour sand into your mouth", The brown haired male send an intense glare towards the poor assistant, threatening them with his wand. Orter had a frown on his face, upset that he had extra work to do because of his incompetent assistant. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his tired eyes. "Such incompetent people..", muttering under his breath while rolling his head around to loosen his stiff neck.

He decided that a walk was needed before he had to return to the stacks of paperwork sitting on his desk.

As he exited his office, and the brown haired male was greeted with you. Talking to a colleague while holding your shoulders like you were cold.

"So, I told her, 'you should go-", you were interrupted by the feeling of a coat being placed over your shoulders. Turning around, you saw your boss, Orter, standing over you without his coat. "You shouldn't be walking around like that, you'll catch a cold", the brown haired man expressed his concern, his tone of voice wasn't as stern as before. Which shocked your fellow colleague, and the assistant, who was staring around the corner. "Well, I was kind of rushing here, and I left my coat at home...", You replied, scratching your cheek lightly.

Orter sighed at your clumsiness. "You can keep my coat for the rest of the day, my office was getting too warm anyway", the other's eyes widened even more, staring at the scene in front of them. "I could also drive you home after work if you like", he continued, maintaining his eye contact with you. The brown haired male kept a neutral expression, while taking to you.

"Really? Thanks for the offer, but I'll manage..", awkwardly smiling towards your boss. You were about to take off the coat but he stopped your hands. "At least keep the coat on, I wouldn't want you to catch a cold and be sick the next morning", Orter insist, turning around to continue his walk.

—

Note: Husband material???

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sikuthealien · 17 days

Text

There Was Only One Bed

"We tend to get into these situations a lot, now, don't we? Shouldn't the hotel managers have known better at this point?"

Kaldo Gehenna Ver. Here

You and Orter had some sort of curse that had kept you working together for over two years now. Always, without fail, he would end up needing your help - last time it had been a flying mantacor, this time it was a violent unicorn who someone was keeping illegally in their home.

He can stop a violent beast from killing civilians but he couldn't stop property damage appearntly. That was too much work for him, it was just a 'clean up job' for a big and important guy like him. After all, he's the Desert Cane. That job was for the poor.

And for you.

You ran and kicked the back, watching him fold like a chair. He barely gave a shout, he merely stumbled and fell, his palms and knees scrapping against the cobblestone against your feet.

A laugh escaped you. Small revenge for that comment earlier.

”I'm about ready for a nap, I don't know about you.“

You stood over him, watching him search for his glasses. He was practically blind, his hand waving in the air as he searched for his lenses.

He looked pitiful, if only he hadn't said such a rude thing about your job earlier. But you gave him pity anyway, handing him his glasses back and watching as his eyes reappeared, giving you the meanest glare he ever had.

”What are you, an animal?“

He said this as he was still sitting on the ground, truly proper behavior from a stuck up who cared about the rules.

”No. But it's funny and you deserved it.“

You smiled, your face splitting apart in a shit eating grin.

“I don't think people deserve to be kicked.”

“They do when they insult others. You should try it sometime.”

Standing up, you offered your hand. Surprisingly he accepted it, pulling your down if only a little on purpose.

His grip was strong. It felt like he was trying to squeeze your bones out of your hand, and as if he were trying to pull you down with him. Payback.

"Let's go. I booked us rooms so we don't have to travel all night."

He stalked forward, walking ahead of you. There was a rush to catch up, your smaller steps having to leap in order to match up with his strides. He didn't acknowledge it, just nodding and continuing his pace.

What an asshole.

"How far is the inn?"

"Close. I'm not telling you."

Orter kept walking, his eyes focused on the path ahead of you.

"What? Why."

He scoffed, reaching around to flick your forehead. You dodged the onslaught, swatting his hand away.

"You would just kick me and try to get there first. Seriously, you don't have any respect for social decency."

Huffing, you tried to kick him again - your foot only made it halfway there until it was encased in a prison of sand.

Orter looked back at you, adjusting his glasses as his yellow eyes focused on your form. You could swear he was smirking, but it was wiped away in a second - maybe it was the glare you were sending him, who knew.

"Maybe you really are just an animal."

"Or maybe you're just an asshole!"

Stupidly, you pulled out your wand in hopes to cast a small spell at him. It was pointless, seeing as he had you disarmed with his stupid sand.

"You know we're in public, right? This just looks bad on your part."

Orter scoffed, letting you languish in his pile of inescapable sand if only for a little while longer. He reached over, gently hitting his knuckles against your head as he tried to physically knock some sense into you.

"Ow! What the hell!"

"I'm doing you a favor."

He gave a couple more knocks, as if it would make sure that you had some sense knocked into your head. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you felt his knuckles travel across your face, from your brow down to your cheekbones.

"What are you doing?"

You felt your face flush as his eyes traced your figure, golden eyes analyzing your form - it made you feel naked, and you could only escape by averting your gaze. His small huff of amusement made the feeling worse, your cheeks warming underneath his touch.

"Checking to see if you really have a brain underneath that skull. Seems like it's there, but I'm not sure."

There was no chance to retort as he dropped you roughly on the ground, leaving you to sputter and choke on offensive insults while he walked away, heading towards the hotel.

What an asshole.

This was a nightmare.

"Just take the bed, I'm not planning on sleeping anyway."

Orter looked at you with a straight face as he said this, pulling out a novel the hotel provided and tucking himself in a corner, as if that would be comfortable enough to be there for eight hours.

"Absolutely not. We can share, can't we?"

The bed was big enough for the two of you - maybe if you squeezed in, but you both paid for it, and it would be impossible to sleep knowing that there would be a man in the corner killing his neck while you laid down comfortably all night.

"I'm the man here. It's only proper that I allow the lady to take the bed."

"Excuse me? Are you really pulling that card right now?"

You took one of the pillows off of the bed, throwing it at the man. He seemed unphased, used to your outbursts.

What the hell was that about? Was he really going to treat you differently just because you were a girl?

"It's just the rules. I don't make them."

"Doesn't mean you have to follow them, ass!"

You slapped another pillow at his face. There was a struggle as he caught it, pushing you towards the bed and trying to subdue you - it had already turned late into the night, and your shouting was most likely disturbing the other guests.

It didn't matter to you. Orter deserved to be embarrassed.

Flipped him over, you tried to shove the plush cotton pillow over his face, struggling against his force. You felt him shift underneath you, his arms blocking your assault and preventing you from playfully suffocating him.

Your defense had been weak, perhaps too playful against your opponent. It was swiftly that he had worked to subdue you, his palm pressing against your shoulder while his knees worked against you, pinning you down against the soft bed.

The pillow was forgotten, with Orter merely staring down at you with his wasp-like eyes.

"This is rather improper of you-"

Growling, you threw your hand up, not really aiming for anything. It was with a shock that you felt your palm connect with his nose, and his weight fall against you as he took the hit on his face.

It was a moment later that blood began to drip down, making you cringe at the moment.

"Oh gods, I'm sorry."

Orter sat up, his hand attempting to cover the blood that began to drip from his nose. It was futile as it fell onto your shirt - the feeling was unpleasant, but you ignored it in favor of overwhelming guilt.

"Here. Um..."

There was nothing to aid him, besides your already soiled shirt. You handed the fabric to him, taking his bloody hands away from his face and trying to stop the bleeding that you caused.

He glanced at you, batting his dark eyelashes as he tilted his head down and ruined your shirt further. The fabric pulled against your ribcage as you both held it in place - at this point, it would be easier to take it off and hand it to him.

"fhanks."

"Thank you. For ruining my shirt."

"Is' nod my fauld' thad you hid' me." Orter's words were muffled by the shirt, and it was with a horrible ruttering sound, like an old rusty engine, that he tried to breathe in through his clouded and bloody nostrils.

Still ruining your shirt.

"You deserved it!" You deflected like it was breathing, "You're an asshole, manhandling me like that."

Drawing the fabric over your head, you shoved it in his face the best you could, still feeling his weight pinning you down at your hips. You would kick him if you could, but clearly, he had planned for this, not having moved from his position on top of you.

It took a moment to sink in the mistake you made, making eye contact with the man as he stared at you - making great effort to stay on your face and not look anywhere else.

He got off of you quickly, looking to the side and avoiding looking at you as if you had the plague. For once, you didn't shove his face for his perceived misdeed, instead taking the opportunity to cover your chest with the forgotten pillow, staring as Orter sat on the farthest edge of the bed, his warmth now sorely missed.

It had now gotten colder as it moved on in the night, no thanks to also having lost a shirt. There was nothing to say about that, as you would have to get up in order to get your day clothes - exposing yourself further to the man.

"Don't look at me." There was a crack in your voice as you said this, but you hoped that he would have been too distracted to really care about your state.

He glanced at you. The usual dull look on his face was painted red, his eyes wide as he turned away again, finding the floor much more interesting.

For once, he was speechless. No annoying taunts or a lecture about society - it was as if seeing your chest made him silent for once in his life.

Silently, he got up, his eyes still trailed downward. It was an awkward few minutes as you debated between getting up while shirtless and he struggled with forcing his bloody nose away with a pure force of will.

Despite being a double-liner, the man hadn't learned any spells to dispel such a pesty and annoying problem. How unfortunate.

It wasn't until a shirt was thrust into you direction were you broken out of your thoughts.

"Here. Sorry, just," Orter placed the shirt on your lap, turning to look back at the wall again as fast as he could "Take mine."

There was a long moment of silence.

It was a nice gesture. And you did feel bare, even underneath the pillow.

But this was Orter's shirt.

"Thanks. Um...we should go to sleep now."

You threw it on, trying your hardest to not focus on anything as you tried your best to straighten the fabric around you best you could. The shoulders were too large for your frame, making the buttoned collar fall too low on your skin.

It was better than nothing. At least you weren't forced to wear your dirtied shirt, which you assumed was somewhere off on the floor at the moment.

Silently, you forced yourself to lay down, going through the motions as you pushed the pillow underneath your head.

There was no body lying next to you. Instead, there was light breathing just below - it seemed like the asshole was still stubborn.

"Orter. I said we can share."

"I'd rather not. It's improper."

"I am literally wearing your shirt, what could possibly be more improper?"

"Sharing a bed."

You groaned, frustrated.

"Shut up, virgin."

That got the man up, unlike any other insult you had said. He crawled up onto the bed silently, his form dropping itself with a huff down onto the soft mattress.

"You are insufferable."

"Now that is improper."

The lights in the room went off, and you felt a light smack against your face.

"You should sleep."

"I am, Orter."

"Right."

His hand went up, feeling your face, as if to physically check for signs of your rest. His fingers trailed up and down your skin, tracing your nose and cheeks gently in the dark.

You could feel his thumb caressing your lips, as if you weren't still awake.

What a strange, strange man.

Anon asked for either or but I thought I could make it funny with Orter since he seems like such a rule guy. The vision is here. No confession and reader is kinda a tsundere cause idk...the vibes match.

Hope y'all enjoyed it. This is for my Valentine's event, it's still open and has slots open. go. ask away. do what you please.

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sikuthealien · 18 days

Text

How's it going in the manga?

Yeah,,,

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sikuthealien · 18 days

Text

a routine.

Orter Madl x f!reader

Obnoxious, sour, call him whatever you want, Orter Mádl couldn't care less about what people thought of him. You can’t help but wonder if that’s 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.

Word count: 3.4k words

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 “lawful lawful”. That is how lawful Orter Mádl gets. It didn’t 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 person’s 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 “so calm and quiet”. But one (wo)man’s trash is another (wo)man’s treasure and surely enough, you were one hell of a hungry raccoon lady.

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 him— if you don’t count the other Divine Visionaries as people (because Kaldo’s… obsession¹ with honey made him a creature, and not a human being, we have to be honest here).

You’d always greet Orter when meeting him in the morning, or wish him to have a nice break time when he’d 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 couldn’t be said about him.

Orter didn’t dislike these despite the way he looked down at you everytime you greeted him. He simply wasn’t 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 you’d bring him coffee when you had free time or simply try to chat a little when you were to give him a report.

It wasn’t 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?

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.

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, you’ll find an excuse— any excuse to bring him some pastries, or any kind of snack with another cup of coffee, but this time a bit more sugary.

He has gotten used to it now, but he still cannot quite understand why you’re spending so much energy on him, and when Orter doesn’t 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.

...

It’s 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 it’s you. But this time, you’re 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.

“Umm..” you start, and you start wondering whether this is a good idea or not. He’s looking at you now, in all of his cold, emotionless expression. “So… would you maybe… like to have your coffee break with me this time…?” you ask, looking away a little bit.

He leans against his chair’s backrest at the suggestion. He could definitely use a break and some coffee right now, but he isn’t sure if he can take the amount of energy you’ll be talking with for the whole duration of your time together.

“With you?” He asks, and you’re unsure if he means this in a mocking way, or if he’s just asking. You shyly nod and he adjusts the position of his glasses a little bit. “I could use a break,” he starts “but I’m not sure I can handle more of your… eagerness to converse³.”

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 didn’t mean it in a bad way? After all, he did have a lot of work, and of course he’d 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.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he finally says after what seemed like an eternity “I don’t want this headache to get any worse.”

A headache. Was this really all you were to him?

“I.. can stay quiet if you’d like me to, but I would really like to have—”

“No, thank you. I’ll have coffee on my own. ” He cuts you off, looking back to his paperwork, probably very oblivious to the fact that he just hurt you deeply. “I don’t understand why you’re so eager to interact with me when all I’m really asking for is to be undisturbed.” 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 didn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t give up on him, of course, but your entire personality had just proven to be a nuisance to him, and you weren’t sure how you’d 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.

“Anything else?”

You shake your head ‘no’ 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 you’d be a little more like he wished you’d 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 you’ll 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 you’ll be somewhere else, ready to greet him…. But there’s no sign of you. Or rather there is one, but it’s only the usual morning coffee you give him, and it’s sitting on his desk inside his office. You, on the other hand, aren’t here.

“Probably a different schedule today.” 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 you’re 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, he’s surprised to see you leave his office without a word.

“Probably has more work today.” 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 aren’t vain. You’ve practised staying silent for a bit and you think you’re nailing it, honestly. All for the sake of the obnoxious, lawful man.

It doesn’t occur to him even once that you might be in emotional pain from his words; he isn’t well versed with other people’s feelings— and probably not his own either. You probably have more work today, and that’s why you’re not as talkative as usual. Or maybe you’re 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 shouldn’t 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, he’s 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. It’s like he’s tearing your soul open and trying to figure out what’s going on in this little skull of yours⁴, and really, it isn’t 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 “have a good afternoon”, and you’re 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 it’s 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 you’re being clingy and annoying for clocking out at the same time?

But your thoughts come to an end as he simply walks away without a word; maybe he just doesn’t care. Right, maybe he just doesn’t care. It probably didn't matter whether you were quiet or talkative, hyper or calm. He probably didn’t 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.

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.

The day goes on like the previous one; you barely exchange any words with him, and he makes no effort to change this. You’re quiet, reserved now, and you just internally pray that he will like you more. This isn’t you, but you will be whoever he wants you to be, if there’s 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 didn’t 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 you’d come to visit him and ask him out or talk about everything and nothing.

Orter was going nuts. The routine he had gotten used to was crumbling for reasons unknown, and he couldn’t understand why, it was beyond his power. The grain of sand in his eye⁵ 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 couldn’t 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 doesn’t take the papers from your hands and just crosses his legs, looking straight into your eyes. “I would like you to read it out loud for me.”

Read it out? You ask yourself, why couldn’t he read it himself? But again, we are talking about Orter Mádl; this man could tell you to get on all fours and bark, and you would gladly do it without giving it a second thought.

“...right.” You started, a little confused at his sudden request. “The Bureau’s investigation on Magol Castle…”

Your words grew distant to him, but not your voice. He wasn’t 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.

“Good, very good. I’ll read it again later.”

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.

“Wait.”

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.

“You’ve been… quiet.” He remarks, his eyes never leaving yours, and you couldn’t 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 Mádl. “Why?” he asks, and there’s an undertone of desperation in his voice. He sounds like he’s at his wit’s end.

At this point, you can’t 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.

“I… do not wish to be a nuisance or give you a headache.” 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.

“Are you alright..?” You quietly asked, not daring to touch him too much, lest he’d find you clingy, but the man sighed loudly once again and cleared his throat, his hands crossing against his desk again.

“You are driving me insane, (Y/N).”

You’ve never heard him speak your name before, and it felt… rather nice. You couldn’t 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 couldn’t 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.

“I… I’m sorry…” 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. “I… meant no harm, with whatever I did to you…”

And then something hits him. A feeling he’s probably rarely felt before: guilt. He looks up at you, and you clearly look like you’re holding back your tears as you shamefully look away from him. It takes all of his energy not to get angry— but at himself this time. He was the one who caused this situation, not you.

“It wasn’t your fault, only mine.” 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. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I… did get quite used to your company. Please, feel free to speak as much as you want.”

He looks up at you, and despite the fact that he still isn’t 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 isn’t even an order, he is actually pleading.

You can’t 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.

“A-hem… so… maybe you… would like to have coffee with me this time?” 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.

“I would love to.”

¹: this man will cover his sashimi in honey and proclaim it’s still edible.

²: read → insistence.

³: nonstop yapping.

⁴: empty, hollow. Not a single thought behind those eyes— or so he thinks.

⁵: you, sorry.

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