#its a pretty expensive cool thick notebook so took him a while to get to that page

[mafuteru]

i wrote a secret message to my friends notebook 2 years ago and today he finally found it ww..

[sp00kworm]

The Deep Dark (Gang Orca x Gender Neutral Reader)

A/N: I love and would die for Gang Orca in his save the whales shirt thank you. Also cross-posted on AO3!

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Kuugo sighed at the wall of the glass tank, watching the fish, they eyed his intimidating form each time they got close before scattering off back around to the reef. They seemed to forget he was there each time and quickly shoaled back around before escaping again in a flicker of silver. He was too wrapped up in his own head. He’d been invited to this aquarium to do an introduction piece for the patrons, yet all he got was wide eyed looks and terrified children bawling as he took to the stage, dressed in his suit jacket with a ‘save the whales’ t-shirt underneath. He thought the shirt was cute. The stylist even assured him it made him look much softer! Evidently the children did not agree. They agreed even less so when he creaked the wood of the stage and smiled, sharp teeth exposed and cape flapping as he opened his clawed hands in a pose.

 “Mama! He’s going to eat me!” One boy cried into his mother’s legs, hiding his head behind her thigh as Gang Orca rumbled about the growing whale populations in the oceans.

“Papa!” A girl sobbed into her dad’s shoulder, and even the father himself didn’t look far from running himself as Kuugo gestured a clawed, black hand to the ribbon. He was quick to bow and snip the ribbon open before sighing in a cascade of clicks and growls, moving inside the building and out of sight of the crying children.

“Mama I don’t want to go inside with the monster!” Another boy screeched. Gang Orca simply sighed inside the door, wetting his hands and rubbing the palms over the curve of his head, rehydrating the thick skin with a grumble, ducking inside the back rooms to get rid of his work costume.

 If he couldn’t make the kids happy, then at least he could enjoy the cool temperatures and the sights of the aquarium. Maybe he should abandon hope of ever being the sight of a hero instead of a monster? Kuugo grumbled as he looked at his charity shirt, dressed down in expensive jeans and some expensive trainers. He didn’t exactly look like the rest of the people packed in here for a day out with their children or partners, but he didn’t mind getting a few looks. Red eyes stared back at him as he fastened his watch and reached back to push at his strong dorsal fin. The killer whale male reached for his bottle of water and rubbed his wet, clawed hand over his head, grumbling softly before pushing two bottles into his back pockets. If it got a little warm, he would no doubt need them while in the crowds.

 Now he was stood staring at the shoals inside the deepest tank. Little reef sharks swam past, eyes rolling and eyelids fluttering at him as he glared with red eyes into the tank. He looked just as intimidating without the cape and white suit, and Kuugo reached to pluck at the tight t-shirt over his chest. There was no doubting his profession really. Well, maybe his scary persona would mean children thought he was a villain, but his physique gave him away in all honesty. Still, as he looked around, he realised the quivering hero fans were simply too scared to come and talk to him. Good, he thought, as he gazed at the deeper little stone reefs, the tropical fish swarming around something that had appeared within one of the coral pieces. He didn’t much feel like talking after his humiliation on stage. Kids were a poor audience for him it seemed. Maybe a room full of adults would have fared better against his intimidating disposition? He could only wonder as he gazed at a baby shark. It was small, not very old, and captured the attention of the children a little further down the corridor.

“Ah, excuse me, sir? Can I squeeze in next to you? They said the baby shark was coming past.” A soft voice broke him from his grumpy ramblings in his own head.

 You had no idea that a pro-hero was in attendance of this new aquarium opening day until Gang Orca had climbed on the stage. He was just as intimidating as the polls said, but you watched him shuffle a speech on the stand and shift from foot to foot in his charity t-shirt, grumbling excitedly about the projects underway to protect the ocean life around Japan. He seemed a lot less threatening then, in his whale shirt with a love heart, and an embarrassed blush on his face as the kids cried. It was heart breaking, but he seemed to get it together quickly and professionally. The ribbon was cut and he disappeared before you could ask him about anything, but you figured it was probably to hide from the multitude of crying children in the audience and their unnerved parents. It was a little but rude, but people would be people after all.

 The pro-hero jumped at the brush of your hand against his back, red eyes blinking before he tilted his head to peer down at you. He wasn’t hugely tall, not in the way All Might was, but standing at six foot six inches, he had plenty of height over most normal humans, quirks or no quirks, “Of course.” He replied, stepping back and to the side to let you slip in front of him as the baby shark came past, mouth open, baby fangs glinting as it watched the people press up against the glass. It was an inquisitive little monster. Gang Orca watched with a quirk in his snout, smiling with teeth that made the children walking past clutch their mothers’ hands.

“Oh, he’s so cute!” You pressed a hand to the glass, turning your head to watch the shark whizz around the next viewing window with a bright smile, “Thank you for letting me see, sir.”

Kuugo nodded his head, “Its not a problem…And the sir isn’t necessary.” He reached for his tie, only to remember it wasn’t there, and instead searched for something to do with his claws.

“I…” You took a breath and turned, notebook in hand, “I really liked your speech about the ocean projects going on, even if the kids didn’t.”

 The killer whale felt his face go hot underneath his thick skin, the blood colouring his cheeks with a blush you didn’t think was possible, “Thank you. I only wish the kids had liked it too.” He huffed, blow hole snorting air as he tucked his clawed hands into his pockets.

“I’m serious. It was really good!” You smiled at the intimidating male and pointed into the tank, “Would you like someone to walk around with, Sir?”

Kuugo eyed you with his piercing gaze, bright red eyes ringed in black, “I told you, Sir isn’t necessary...Kuugo is fine or Sakamata.” He grumbled before turning on his heels, mouth open in a small smile, “Come then, there is a display of the realistic size of the blue whale. It is impressive.”

“I had no idea! It must be a pretty big place. I might end up being here all day after all!” You laughed and the hero nodded his head, ducking past some more children as quickly as he could.

“Yes. Come then, I will show you the exhibits the charity donated towards.” Kuugo lead you through a set of double doors before ducking through himself, dorsal fin catching on the top as he moved through.

 The blue whale replica was huge. It was suspended from the ceiling, hanging immovable, great eyes peering at the tanks on the walls. You gazed upwards in awe of the model before Kuugo laughed, taking you over to a tank full of coral. Seahorses bobbed in the water calmly, wiggling between plants and kelp with careful precision.

“These were taken from a few places among the kelps near to Australia. Fishermen often scoop them out for kids aquariums. Hateful practice.” Gang Orca pushed a claw to the tank and the sea horses bobbed closer before swimming back to their food.

“I had no idea they did things like that.” You observed as he pointed to the name plates.

“They were all in a bucket on a little boat. The charity took them and rehomed them here. Many were injured with pieces of wire stuck around them.” He smiled at them, glad the little seahorses were back to full health and eating. They had been extremely ill the last time the charity workers had shown him around their working labs and rehabilitation centre. Kuugo was comforted by their recovery, as small as it may seem.

 “What about those?” You took his clawed hand in your own, unfazed, tugging the pro-hero along to the next large tank. It was full of thriving corals and little feeding fish. The balance was there to feed the fish and help the coral grow better by keeping them pest free.

“Much the same. A little fishing boat was caught stealing the fish and corals. They are here to live out their days in safety.” He answered coolly as you turned the flash off your phone to take a picture of the little feeding fish.

“This is all so amazing, Kuugo!” You cheered next to him, “What about the next thing? Eels?” The tank was dark until you peered at the bottom. There in the rocks were eels of all sizes, writhing out of their holes in the rocks and crockery in the bottom of their tank. They sat with their mouths open, staring back at you as you watched them wiggle.

Gang Orca huffed a laugh behind you at your shuddering, rubbing at his head, water shining on his great hands as he shook his head side to side.

 “Eels, yes. Other than them being rather boring, they live a long time, and enjoy doing that…gawking thing.” He leaned over, peering into the tank with a snort of his blowhole, clawed fingers pressed to the glass, “I don’t know a lot about them. Those deep-sea ones are practically immortal?” He huffed to himself, clicking at the back of his teeth as he gazed upwards at the blue whale model, “I will have to find out more information about those for next time.” He nodded to himself seriously.

You snickered at the pro-hero, “Don’t worry! I can just read the information placue.”

Kuugo blushed as he leaned over to squint at the information, “Ah, yes, I forgot about those.” He confessed quietly before leaning over your shoulder to read the information about the writhing eels as well, “Though I appear to have been far off the mark, hm?” He scratched at his dorsal fin before leaning back, giving you room to look into the tank again.

“Not too far off I’m sure, Kuugo. We all can’t know everything!”

He chuckled again and smiled with sharp teeth in his snout, “Right you are…Ah. How rude. I forgot to ask your name?”

You laughed at him, introducing yourself properly before listening to the killer whale softly say your name to himself.

“Come on then, Kuugo! You still have the whole aquarium to show me!” You cheering made him smile again, hands tucked in his pockets before you looped your arm through his own.

 At some point during the walk around, the children stopped running from his intimidating aura, instead rushing to ask him questions about his fins and the clicks he could produce.

“Children, please. I am trying to tell this kind-“

“IS THAT YOUR DATE MISTER WHALE?!” A little girl asked before gasping and rushing away to her mother.

“No that is not….”

“Mister Orca is on a date! We better go!”

“ORCA-SAN HAS A DATE?!”

They were quick to rush from his legs, little hands finding their parents’ again before they began chattering about how kind the pro-hero was. He grumbled and leaned down to let the girl off his shoulders. She too giggled, gazing between the both of you before rushing back to her father.

 “This is not a date.” He grunted, looking back at you with narrowed, red eyes.

“I know, Kuugo. But kids will be kids.” You linked your arms again and the pro-hero simply looked down before moving on, ushering you towards the exit with a huff and a wheeze.

“Excuse me for a moment.” He paused to uncap his water, dripping some into his hand before rubbing it over the thick skin of his head, slicking it with moisture before sighing through his mouth, blow hole closed tight.

“You know… Maybe the next one could be a date?” You teased as you scribbled your number on a piece of scrap paper. Kuugo felt his mouth drop open as you reached the exit, his clawed fingers taking the paper shakily.

“You would like to go out with me?” He was bewildered, “Even looking like…”

“Looking like a very handsome man?” You teased before taking his hand, “I would like to get to know you better and go out again yes!”

Kuugo’s sharp teeth snapped closed, “Then I will contact you…My schedule is busy but I will make time for this, I promise.”

“I expect nothing less from a pro-hero.” You teased, leaning up to kiss the man’s cheek, “Thank you for today. I would have been lost without my guide.”

“You are welcome.” He bowed his head, embarrassed as he watched you flounce away.

 “MAMA THE WHALE IS GOING TO EAT ME!!”

 He cringed and made a dash for his car and chauffeur. It seemed your lack of presence had turned the kids against him once again.

[saintclaires-blog]

warsaw, poland. 9:36 pm.

❙❙ ► i knew you were trouble, taylor swift. ❙❙ ► we won’t need you anymore, library tapes. ❙❙ ► the barren moon, lucy claire. ❙❙ ► haunted, taylor swift.

    the usual twenty-five minute drive to the city center took longer in the newly fallen snow. driving especially slowly, carefully, stan keeps his eyes trained firmly on the dark roads ahead. tapping his fingertips on the steering wheel, timing his breathing with the slow, gentle krystian zimerman tune from his radio. nobody should notice an hour’s absence from him. maybe longer. maybe shorter, maybe she’d slam the door on him and he’d just go home. every single scenario within the realm of possibility ran through his head. she probably wasn’t even there, why would she be here; why shouldn’t she be in london with charles, sipping roederer's cristal and discussing the works of thucydides in their library— his name and face far, far away from her thoughts? he knew he'd find an empty apartment, and he'd feel stupid, grab a coffee and head home. he'd make an excuse for his brief absence, one he hadn’t thought of yet. he was wholly unsure how grace would respond if he casually mentioned he’d popped out to see camilla; grace didn’t seem as though she’d altogether processed their situation yet, and had been treating him with a cool indifference that was beginning to bother him. he was hesitant to make a point of it, in fear of making things worse and further worrying her; things were already so foreign for grace. his mother’s aquiline, watchful gaze was perpetually set on her. the language was complex and unfathomable. his younger siblings were making incredible nuisances of themselves. throwing camilla further into the mix was an ill-considered plan on his part; despite having her begrudging blessing, which stan did not particularly think she was sincere about, he knew it was a precarious subject for grace still. for stan, however, camilla lingered about his mind every single day; regret clawed at his insides, it brought about a pain that knocked him breathless— astonishing him with its sheer force. he wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep for years and years. then wake up having forgotten her name and her face; letting every minute detail about her wash away in the blood-warm waters of sleep. it was sad and cruel to think of it in this way, to want to erase her completely when it was just that which got him into his mess in the first place, but stan could not see any foreseeable way he’d be able to cope with anything with her presence lingering about somewhere. 

     standing on camilla’s landing, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, stan considered what he wanted to gain from his visit. not closure, for sure, camilla’s contempt was still as sharp as broken glass and sure to stay as such for a very long while. he forces himself to knock a steady three times. he hears her soft, courteous “come in” from the other side. camilla’s warsaw apartment was unusually small, contrasting against her extensively exorbitant places of residence back in london. it was still in one of the most expensive apartment buildings in the city; its opulence making up for any lack of size. he opens the door with an incredibly nervous caution, peering in. she’s seated at a table surrounded by books and papers, a work lamp lighting her work. she peeks over the top of her wire-framed glasses, her expression betraying no hint of emotion at his sudden visit; he receives a curt and unenthusiastic invitation to enter. stan's throat tightens. the room is cold and scarcely lit. he bites on his lower lip and steps into the apartment, taking a seat at the table across from camilla as she coolly observes his awkward movements.

     “in the neighbourhood, were you?” she raises an ornate teacup to her lips. the apartment’s scent and her lightly accented voice are so overwhelmingly familiar to stan he begins to feel lightheaded; he could say with certainty what candle she used to get the apartment’s delicate apple blossom smell, what tea blend she was most likely sipping at, and that the pinkish red lipstick she wore was her favorite chanel rouge coco shine, in the shade bohème. her aloof sarcasm passes him by. “n-no, not really. i didn’t know if you’d be here or not. i’ve been meaning to visit. for a very long time. i just wasn’t sure— if, you’d want to. you know... especially with everything that’s happening with grace’s pregnancy and the marriage, and, well... it’s eating at me.” he stumbles over his words which feel thick and insincere in his mouth. he nervously tugs at a loose thread on his sleeve, and realises he’s been holding his breath.  “and so i should expect.” camilla replies with the tiniest flash of a smile, placing her teacup down on its saucer and looking stan squarely in his eyes. her eyes were cold, pretty, vicious, expectant— making stan sweat like a scorching sun. he was unsure how to continue. “what are you doing?” he asks in a thin tone after an uncomfortable pause, looking at her papers and the stack of old, dog-eared books beside her.  “some translation work for the classics department at the university. not a lot of people know polish and ancient greek, evidently— and you get a more accurate translation directly from the texts, as opposed to translating it to polish from an english translation. i’m not in warsaw for you or grace, if that’s what you’ve thought.” she takes off her glasses and sets them down beside her.  “no, no. i was just curious. that’s cool, though. is it hard work? i could never wrap my head around such a complex language. i tried latin in high school, but that didn’t go so well...” stan rambles, shrugging one shoulder and itching his chin. not wanting to dance around the reason of his visit, but not wanting to approach it either.  “why are you here, stanisław?” camilla examines him down the bridge of her nose, strawberry lips pursed, a delicate frown on her features. he’s unused to this kind of reception. a pointed and frosty glare, defensive and hiding her overwhelming bitterness under refined, pretty packaging. this is a different person. one that morphed and grew from the mess stan made of the original, growing the best it can in its circumstances. it let loose a dizzying array of emotions in him. it inflamed the painful remorse sitting in his chest.  “i want to talk. i want to be realistic about this. grace still wants you in our lives. i mean, i do as well, of course... i’ve known you for a very long time. we don’t... just want you to disappear again. it was painful for both of us.” stan places his hands on the table, white from the chilly temperature. “we? us? oh, god.” she tilts her head back, wincing. “oh god, gross.” camilla shifts in her chair uncomfortably. stan watches as her golden curls fall over her shoulders with her movements, catching on the white collar peeking out over her sweater neckline. a frown replaces the look of anxiety plastered across his face. “can we be adults about this? please?”  “sure! okay,” her gaze falls back on him. “let’s be adults.” her newly adopted expression of amusement unnerves him further. “let’s get this all out on the table, so that we’re clear, okay?” “camilla...” “no, okay, so— like the mature adult you very clearly are, stanisław, you try to murder me. you go on a crack binge, off the medication that keeps you mostly sane, you down some vodka, then you try to murder me. you drag me out of the bathroom where i am hiding because i am afraid of you when you’re high, by my hair, and you pour half a bottle of bleach down my throat. i don’t die instantaneously. i don’t really fucking know what you were hoping for. in any case, i’m dying too slow, and you’re getting worried, right? because you’re so intelligent, you decide to make it look like i’ve killed myself. i take it i had passed out from the pain by then— because, do you actually have any idea how painful it was? it’s like, someone lit my insides on fire. so forgive me if my details are hazy here. you fill a bathtub with water, you put me in it, you take a razor and you cut both my wrists. then you bail, or something— and let grace find me. you let grace find me. i am so very terribly lucky she came home so soon after you bailed in panic, because she saved my life by doing so. you leave everyone to believe i’ve tried to commit suicide. when i wake up, i make this weird decision to corroborate your story. because i am a mature adult, and i didn’t want you to get thrown in prison and create a worldwide scandal. i go home. grace stays with you. she stays with the schizo crackhead to tried to murder her best friend and make it look like suicide. you proceed to impregnate her. you proceed to propose to her, because you impregnated her. you proceed to come to my home in london, sit across from me, and ask me for my blessing. you tell me you don’t want to have me disappear from your life, and that you’d like to talk things out with me. you basically tell me, oh, we won’t need you anymore. then you backtrack. this is all correct, yes?” 

     stan buries his head in his hands halfway through her recount of events. the pressure builds in his head to an unbearable level. her plain explanation cut straight through him like a knife coated in acid; taking his breath, leaving the wound he’d endeavoured to patch up over the months exposed and raw. his shoulders slump. running one hand through his artless mess of silver hair, he looks up with dewy eyes— she is composed, sipping her tea, putting her round spectacles back on her face, ordering her pile of papers. “this is correct,” his gaze rests on the beautiful and indecipherable ancient greek script in the notebook in front of her, for somewhere to look at that isn’t her eyes. “and you can’t begin to imagine, how i felt when... no, no. i’m not making excuses for myself here. i blame myself, and—” “well, i should damn well hope so.” “and, i regret... every single day... fuck. camilla, it’s the first thing i think about when i wake up and the last thing i think about when i fall asleep. i can’t remember the last day i got through without crying, i am constantly sick with worry that i am going to pass this bullshit onto my child, that they’ll have what i have, and i can’t fucking stand it. i can’t deal with constant guilt. all the time. i can’t live with it. i can’t raise a child beside grace with this.” he feels his hands begin to tremble. his arms, his legs, all of him. “that’s a damn fucking shame, stanisław. i didn’t think i could live with seeing my arms lined with ugly scars i didn’t put there, forever. i used to wish that you’d done this one thing in your life properly, made me drink the whole bottle, cut a little deeper. maybe now i’d be sitting up there with dionysus, drinking wine and revelling in a spectacular bacchanal, not still here having to deal with your remorse. i sincerely hope you are suffering as i did. it’d please me very much, and i don’t feel bad about that. i also hope you know you are a bad person, stanisław. blame it on the drugs or the mental illness, but i know you have a terrible coldness within you that exists independently of those things. i saw it in your eyes and on your lips whenever you took pleasure in smacking me or feeling me resist underneath you whenever you wanted to get yourself off, i know it’s real. please don’t think me a tragedian here, i am trying to move on as well. but for now, i don’t give a fuck. you really did it this time, stanisław. maybe time will eventually erase your guilt, maybe not.” stan feels dangerously lightheaded. swaying slightly back and forth, his mouth hangs open a fraction while his rivulets of tears begin to stream down his face.  “you, y-you are heartless. there’s a... child involved now, camilla.” “and if you’re truly remorseful, you won’t let any of this touch your child. it doesn’t need to. you’re not going to magically become a good father if i forgive you.” “surely, it’d fucking help!”  “don’t you raise your voice at me, stanisław. never again.” camilla holds up a scholarly finger. “ever. just please make an effort to be a good father, and pray like hell your child never runs into a man like you,” tucking a golden lock of hair behind her ear, camilla clears her throat and rubs the lipstick smear from the rim of her teacup. “and fuck off. charles is going to be here tonight. you don’t want him to catch your ass around here.”  “fuck, camilla. fuck. you didn’t tell charles, did you?”  “do you honestly think charles would believe i tried to kill myself?” camilla raises a perfectly curved eyebrow, posing the question to stan with seriousness.  “no, fine, whatever,” stan rises from his seat with an awkward stumble, steadying himself on the oak table. he stuffs his hands back into his pockets. “i’m really fucking sorry for coming. i didn’t think any of this through at all. i didn’t mean for you to pull everything back up. i mean— yeah, okay. i’m going. grace misses you, and she wants to see you again. she’s not dealing with things so well. please come by and visit her some time soon.” he mumbles as he heads toward the door, his vision growing blurry and uneven. the pressure in his head still mounting. building. he wanted to scream until his lungs gave out.  “i may just do so. take care, stanisław.” camilla murmurs dismissively, turning her attention back down to her translation work.  

     stan stands in the hallway shaking.      camilla hurls her books across the room.