Bnha Boys As Your Typical Crushes!

THE NIGHT WE MET — IZUKU MIDORIYA

★ ˛˚ . a little mermaid themes, after nearly drowning and being saved by… something, you’re met face to face with your home towns legends, sending your relaxed summer break taking care of your uncle spiraling.

★ pairing: mermaid!deku x marine science student!gn!reader

★ word count: 8.2k

★ content: fluff, modern fantasy?? au, reader is in college/studying marine biology (only briefly mentioned), bestie bkg, reader is from a fishing village, swearing, mild mention of injuries, semi-graphic drowning, mentions of hospitals, eating/food mentions, fruit as a love language.

i realized when writing some of the bestie bakugou parts that i was… showing my bias just a bit :’) so to remedy it i wrote myself in as his off screen partner :) this is the first part of right below the surface mermaid series !!

YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO COME BACK HERE. You always hated this place — it was small and even when you were a child, it was dying — and you quickly find nothing at all has changed. Everything's standing still — stagnant. You hate it. You feared getting stuck, it's why you clawed so hard to get away, being just as stagnant as the rest. You'd promised yourself. You told yourself you'd graduate, get into a good college, and never look back.

But you've always been bad at keeping your promises. And when your uncle broke his leg falling off his fishing boat, forcing him to be house ridden and work less, you couldn't say no.

And so here you are, nestled in overheated sand and letting the same water you spent your whole life resenting lap at the soles of your feet. That fear, the creeping feeling of stagnation—of never being better—haunted you. The idea of standing still terrified you, watching the world grow while you were stuck in your tiny, unchanging hometown.

Though, even then, you can't help but melt in the familiarity.

"You're gonna have a damn heatstroke if you spend the whole day holed up on the rocks."

“Awww, it’s almost like you care about me,” you have to squint up at him, hand a poor shield from the sun. Bakugou scoffs, trapping the notebook he was holding against the back of your head.

“You fuckin’ wish. Just don’t wanna have to haul your ass to the doctor when you pass out in the sand. And I need you to help me run some errands.”

You groan, flopping boneless against the sand, “why me?” He doesn’t entertain the whine, pulling you up by your wrists. “Can’t you get one of your idiot friends to help you?”

“I am getting one of my ‘idiot friends’ to help me- you, dumbass.” You try your best to act as dead weight behind him, dragging your feet through the sand, “and they're errands for your uncle so you're lucky I'm doing them at all. Should make you run the boat while he’s holed up.” 

“You know he hates it as much as you do, Katsuki. He’s been driving me crazy trying to take care of himself.” He’d always been that way. Stubborn. Your mother used to tell you that you reminded her of him. It didn’t feel like a compliment. 

Katsuki looks back at you, fingers loosening around your wrist, like he knows what you're thinking. “Trust me, I know how stubborn that bastard can be,” his arm is hooked around your neck to drag you into step next to him, “we’re buttin’ heads constantly.”

You flail a bit in surprise before teeth sink into the juncture of his arm and he lets you go with an affronted gasp, “you fuckin’ gremlin.” Bakugou rubs at the indents roughly, “thought the city was supposed to civilize ya.”

The walk into town is longer than you remember, but maybe you just forgot how expansive the town really was. Katsuki was right, it’s uncomfortably hot, air thick and sticky — it feels like every breath takes effort. It gets worse the closer to town you get, the smell of iron and gasoline pressing down on you. The dock is empty, most boats already out for the day, but the smell lingers.  

Main street is busy, as busy as the town can get, and you can already hear the cheesy nautical music being played in the little tourist shops. You always found it funny just how many there were. Little brightly coloured shops filled with novelty plates and mermaid-themed mugs and shirts. When you were little you’d always buy something absurd for your uncle, a windchime carved like a giant crab or a snowglobe whose red glitter looked morbidly like blood. He always kept them.

There’s only one grocer on the island, boxed in by countless fishing supply stores and boat shop repairs. It’s always been so overcrowded you were tempted to start up a rival just so you could get your strawberries without shoulder checking a grandmother. 

“Gotta stop by the boat shop before we head back,” Katsuki says, nudging you with an elbow, “yer uncle’s needs a new cleat.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” 

He rolls his eyes, pushing the door to the grocery open for you. It’s oddly empty, with no one but the distant sounds of shuffling in the back and a very sunburnt teen closely reading the back of a cereal box.

The shops are rather unchanged, sole for a couple of aisles of sugary cereals and chips, you find it easy to navigate the crates of fruits, “he give you a list?”

“Nah- here for pickup.” Katsuki’s moved to the front, flicking the little bell on the counter, “always buys the same shit anyways.”

The shopkeep, a grinning mess of familiar dark hair, pokes himself from the back. Kirishima’s stayed the same, too, you think. The same horrible cut-off novelty Hawaiian shirt he wore during summer breaks and strong arms, hoisting the heavy crate of plums easily.

“Hey!” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face when you step up beside Bakugou. He gasps audibly, quickly moving around the counter to yank you into a hug, “I forgot you were supposed to be back today!” 

He pulls away, still gripping your forearms, to do a once over. 

“Kiri, it’s nice to see you again.” And it is.

“I’ll say- feels like you’ve been gone a decade.” A very apparent thought crosses his face, an audible little oh escaping him as he grips you tighter, “you should come to the bonfire with us tomorrow morning!”

You huff a laugh at the enthusiasm, “us?”

“Yeah! Mina, Denki, and hopefully Bakugou planned on going out to look for shells and teeth! It’s supposed to storm tonight, perfect weather!"

It’s sweet that they’ve kept up with that — combing the beach in a futile effort to find whole shark teeth or the decorative shells tourists seem to always leave with. You used to do it for the grocery store, back when Mina’s grandma owned it, and she’d string up the little shells and pieces of sea glass found into windchimes or bracelets. 

Katsuki lets out an exaggerated groan, head tossed back, “Kirishima. The groceries?”

“Oh! Right.” Kiri ducks behind the counter and rummages around before remerging with two packed paper bags of meats and vegetables. You can see the tops of a celery stalk leaned against the little homemade cookies your uncle likes so much. When Katsuki reaches for the handles Kirishima pulls them back, “you are coming, too, right?”

“I really don’t have the patience for this right now,” his snarl doesn’t seem to phase Kiri, though, who continues to slide the bags out of his reach.

“Katsuki!” He whines, lip pulling into an exaggerated pout, “please come?” Kirishima looks pointedly at you, his little way of making you feel included, and grins, “you can come too! It’ll be like back in the day!” 

He groans, scrubbing at his face roughly, “I don’t know, ‘t’s date night, y’know.” You huff a quiet little laugh, it’s nice to know Katsuki hasn’t learned how to lie since you’ve been gone.

“Date night is on Wednesdays, which means you’re free! So you’ll come, right?” Kirishima leans onto the counter, resting his chin in hand, “unless you want me to ask them? I’m sure she can give me a straight answer.”

“No- don’t! Don’t fuckin’ threaten me with that. Fine, I’ll go. But I’m home by 12.” Kirishima beams, sliding over the prior hostage groceries before turning back to you.

It’s cute how well Kirishima’s threat worked on him. But the closeness sends a little pang of hurt through you. They know each other. Now that you’re back, faced with the lives that moved on without you, you regret never settling. Even if it was just a little: trying to date or befriending more than the people you’d known since birth. Anything but burying yourself in jobs and school and breaking up with the only boyfriend you’d had so you could finally get out. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so… alien in your hometown.

“You too, right?” You’re startled by the attention, meeting Kirishima’s earnest eyes. “You’ll come?”

“Of course!” It’d be a lie to say you didn’t want the company. Or that you’d missed them after you’d left. “You know I love shore hunting.”

“Great!” He beams, revealing a third bag of groceries for you to carry, “Bakugou can give you a ride and everything! Mina will be thrilled to see you again — Denki, too.”

He flashes one last smile before disappearing back behind the shop's little door, avoiding Katsuki’s pointed hey! and leaving you to follow a fuming Bakugou to the boat shop across the street.

Maybe it’d be nice to see everyone again .

“You’re a lot of fuckin’ help, y’know,” Katsuki grunts from the hull, struggling to haul the metal cage over the side of the boat. It hits the water a moment later, sinking below the choppy waves. “I’m so glad I brought you along.”

You snort, head lolling against your shoulder so you can grin at him, “awww, you knew what you were getting into. You’re the one who said it was ‘my damn uncle’s boat’ and I needed to ‘get off my ass’,” his eyes narrow at the impersonation. “Even though, technically, I came to sit on my ass and watch my uncle’s leg heal. Not to run his crab traps.”

It was his job, technically. You'd started going with him to check the traps after your uncle got better at using his crutches. You hated to admit that it was nice to be doing something other than reading old boat manuals and eating the shrimp chips your uncle bought in bulk.

He grumbles, tossing the ropes back to the boat’s deck before making his way to the helm. You had five more traps to set before the storm moved in, stirrs up the smell of the bait and the water stays warm. 

But the skies are darker than they should be. The rain wasn’t supposed to start until noon, and the wind wasn’t supposed to pick up until hours later. You had time, but you still found yourself worrying.

“Are you sure we should be out here? Why can’t the traps wait until after the storm,” you grumble, tucking your hands underneath your arms. Katsuki glares at you from where he’s steering and you can hear your uncle’s rant pooling on his tongue.

“Stop fuckin’ complain’,” he barks, tossing another rope onto the hull, “not even makin’ you do shit and you still find something to complain about.”

You huff, sitting up to glance over the edge of the boat. The water’s dark and choppy, waves slapping against the metal and hissing. Bakugou drops another cage, sending more waves against the boat's side.

The cage sinks slowly, pushing against the current as it disappears into the dark. There’s another splash in front of you, louder than the cage, and you jerk upright. Katsuki shouldn’t have dropped another trap already and it sounded too far away. 

You pull yourself up, leaning against the rails as you search the churning waves. There’s nothing, any ripple from the movement hidden in the vicious waves caused by the storm. 

It’s raining now, your boots squeaking against the metal floor as you chase the noise. There’s a flash of color—green, the green you’d seen on the beach—and you lean to see more. 

“What’re you doin’ dumbass? Get away from the sides!” Katsuki drops the rope he was holding, gripping the railing, “gonna get yourself swept over.”

You ignore him, heart beating out of your chest as you see another flash of fins, “did you-” lightning cracks over you, and you feel the boat start to tip with the waves. It happens so quick, a wave beats against the side and spills over. Your feet, already slipping on the slick metal, are swept out from under you. 

You’re too shocked to react, hands clawing at the railing but too slick to get traction as the waves drag you back. The water’s cold, shocking a gasp out as you're pushed under—even though you tell yourself you shouldn’t- that you know how to handle this. 

But you don’t. You’ve never drowned and the tightness in your lungs feels ready to burst, your head hits the ground again and your ears begin to ring. You can feel yourself being pushed further to sea by the currents, further away from the boat. 

Something moves above you, quick and shadowed and for a moment you think you’ve seen a shark, of all times, but it looks too big. Your vision darkens, blurred green as you feel your hands, too cold, press into your sides, something rough wrap around a leg. Eyes find yours, more green swimming against pale color and the hands start to yank, pulling you up through the water. 

You want to see more, to figure out what has you — who saved you, but your vision finally darks, ringing worsening.

You're thirsty when you wake up.

They must have the window open, the saltiness of the air sheening your skin. The room’s silent when you wake up, deathly quiet. As if everyone had established an understood quiet game once you’d been situated into a bed. Your uncle is next to you, propped awkwardly in a chair and gripping at your hand.

Katsuki is behind him, leaned against the wall holding a box with a bow, one that looks suspiciously unlike anything he’d do. He’s the first to notice, straightening in his seat and nudging Kirisihma awake, with much more force than necessary — nearly pushing him from his chair, before moving to the bedside.

“You’re awake,” your uncle sounds out of breath, like he’d spent the entire morning pacing the floor. You wouldn’t have been surprised. Normally, you’d laugh at the observation — obvious — but your throat still aches and breathing hurts.

His palm finds your back when you sit up, coughs raking your lungs. It’s comforting, even if it does little to help, and you find yourself curling in on yourself. “You’re okay, everyone’s okay.”  

Your hands fist into the back of his sweater, soft and loosely knitted. The iv aches at the movement and you finally look down at yourself. The skin of your arms seems greyer, as if the water had sucked the very warmth from you, and dry. 

You recognize the hospital, you think, from the view. It’s a tiny little clinic downtown which can house a max ten patients at once. The room itself doesn’t feel much like a clinic, walls painted a warm green and gauzy curtains blowing over the opened window. Even the bedding, though spread over your usual hospital bed, comprises soft sheets topped with a worn patchwork quilt. It feels like you’ve fallen asleep on a friend's couch. 

“Uh, I brought you flowers,” Kirishima was standing, now, though he looked incredibly out of place. He was wearing another cut off Hawaiian shirt, this time covered in pink and purple turtles, cradling a wilting bouquet of asters like a newborn. “It’s, uh,” he’s shuffling slightly as he stares down at the blooms, “they’re not really in season.”

You laugh a little, despite yourself, which he seems to take great pride in. Your uncle takes the bouquet from him and lets you dunk them in the little pitcher by your bed. “Thank you, Kiri. I love them.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

The little bit of laughter dies with the words. It’s as if something cold has slipped down your spine — you almost died. It’s a grim thought and your shoulders tighten at the memory.

You could’ve died.

Katsuki hasn’t looked at you yet, eyes locked on the little wrapped box in his hands. He rubs a thumb over the corner once more before finally handing it to you, “it’s, uh, brownies. I didn’t make ‘em but they’re still pretty good, I guess.”

That’s high praise, you think and if it didn’t hurt so much you’d laugh. “Tell them thank you, then.” He nods slightly, still picking at the beds of his nail. And you know what he’s thinking.

“Can I — uh, why don’t you and Kiri get me a new thing of water?” Both of them understand, you think, glancing between you and Katsuki, “since I’ve used mine as a vase.”

Katsuki doesn’t look at you until they’re gone, eyes red-rimmed and glossy, “real subtle, dumbass.” 

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle.”

It’s quiet. Not that you expected him to talk first, but you’re still a little annoyed that he’s making you strain your throat this much, “Katsuki — ”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” He’s staring at the floor again, voice so quiet you’re almost sure you missed it, “why? It’s not your fault.”

Bakugou stands suddenly, pushing himself from the rickety lawn chair, and you can see his jaw clench. “I was the one who made you come with me. I could have done it alone — I could have set those damn traps without you. But I made you come.”

“You didn’t make me do anything, Katsuki. And if I hadn’t gone, it could’ve been you that got swept off and then what? Who would’ve been able to get you out?” That was half the reason you’d gone to begin with. You never liked when your uncle went out by himself, let alone a less experienced sailor. “The storm came in quicker than it was supposed to, the sea got rougher than we expected. It’s not your fault, Katsuki, you can’t control the weather.”

He huffs, lifting a hand to scrub through his hair, and you realize you’ve won. 

“Now, I do expect ice cream. And I don’t expect to pay for it.”

Katsuki barks a little laugh, “fine. But ya gotta promise not to try and drown yourself anymore.”

You hate that you need looking after, now. It’s minimal, really, considering you nearly died. But you were supposed to be looking after your uncle. Supposed to be making his recovery easier, not sitting on his couch with an icepack tucked against your ribs and earning sympathetic glances whenever he hobbled by the living room.

You hated it. You understood your resemblance, now. 

Even though you’ve been cleared, now, your head still aches and your lungs sting with every intake of breath. It’s miserable, feeling so helpless. 

The walk to the beach is easy, second nature by now, and you let your feet drag through the sand. The little rock path to the cove isn’t covered, letting the full force of the sun beat down on your neck and you can feel yourself already sweating. The glossy cover of the hardback book you brought along sticks to the underside of your arm and the oranges you’d picked up the week before were already sweating.

Summer hasn’t quite taken over the town, yet. Still too early to be peak tourist season but you can’t help thinking the beach does look a little picturesque — like something you’d see on a cheap motel postcard. 

Finding a tree nestled between the rocks, you settle into the plushness of towels and cool sand. The ocean’s slow today, waves lapping against the rocks and pulling at the shore.

This is what your summer break was supposed to be — easy, slow, boring. You were supposed to be able to lounge on the warm sand you hate, read your novel, one about runaway lovers, and peel your oversized oranges Kiri’d made you take.

It’s odd to hear the ocean be natural background noise. You’d been so used to hearing it over a speaker, distorted, then the easy hiss of waves crashing melts comfortably against your skin. 

The sound nearly lulls you to sleep, head lolling to rest against the tree's smooth trunk, until you hear a splash — heavy and loud and too close.

You sit up, a book falling from your lap, and see a flash of green — a fish? But it sounded large, larger than anything should be so close to the rocks. Pompano’s are green, but those are deepwater game fish and they weren’t that big.

You’re beginning to wish you’d stayed on the mainland and hadn’t ventured out into the cove. You eye the place where the shores connect, now totally submerged by the tide. Dumb.

“Maybe it’s friendly,” you don’t sound convinced, “most fish are skittish, anyways.” 

And so you let yourself relax, settling back against the sand. You can’t keep fearing the ocean, you’ve built your whole future around the sea and you can’t let it be ripped away now. 

You're not sure why the noise — a soft little blurb, like a buoy had surfaced quietly, made you look up but it did. At first you see only seaweed — dark green and soft floating amongst the waves — but then you recognize bright eyes and damp curls, clinging to sun-kissed cheeks and nose bridge. 

“Hey,” the word comes out fumbled, unsure and a little dumb. You don’t remember anyone being out here or seeing a pile of someone’s belongings on your walk over. So… where did he come from? “I -”

Whatever you were planning on saying frizzles up and dies in your throat when you see it, a tail — at least five feet, maybe more, long curls over the water. It’s the same green you’d seen, paler than his hair but richer than any fish you’d ever seen. The fins, spindly stalks ending in a wide lobe, remind you of a glauert's seadragon. 

You scuttle back a step when he moves further out of the water, pulling up onto one of the exposed rocks. “I’m glad you’re okay,” his voice is softer than you’d expected and he looks incredibly non-threatening with his chin perched on his own folded arms, “I was worried you’d gotten too deep.” 

“So it was you, then.” His head tilts, and you clarify, “in the water, that pulled me up.”

His tail whips through the water, like he’s pleased, “of course! I was worried, your boat was the only one out on the water.”

You move a little closer, butt-shuffling until the water starts to lap at your skin again. His eyes follow you, zeroing in on everywhere the waves hit before finding your face again. He seems like he’s looking for something, checking for a sign of… something hidden in your expression. 

“So… you’re… a mermaid?” 

He smiles, then, all sunny and dimpled and cheeks rounding up, “yeah! But Izuku’s my name, please.” 

It’s pretty, you think. Suits him. He’s still looking at you, this time brows raised expectantly. You’re about to question it when it hits you, a soft little oh before giving him your own name. 

He smiles again, warmth spreading over the apples of his cheeks, and he tests the name on his tongue. The sound tightens your chest and spreads warmth to the very tips of your fingers. You like it.

His — Izuku’s — brows pinch as he spots something behind you. Looking over your shoulder you notice it. The unpeeled oranges. 

“Oh, are you hungry?”

“Hm, oh! No, I just… I’ve never seen anything that looked like that before,” he lifts himself off his arms and you notice his hands for the first time, dark and short claws curling into the rock. “What’s it taste like?”

You turn, dragging the little knapsack to you and carefully peeling the fruit. Izuku watches you the entire time, wide green eyes rapt. Like he’s never seen something so interesting.

“Here!” Izuku takes the slice delicately with his knuckles, claws tucked into his palm and his nose scrunches cutely.

“It’s… squishy.”

“It’s supposed to be, it’s fruit — most of it’s squishy.” 

When he finally eats it, after some overly thorough sniffing, his eyebrows pinch together. It’s almost humorous how you can see the flurry of emotions which overtake him — disgust, confusion, then interest — before his face softens back out, “I… I like it. I think.”

You snort, which makes his attention snap back to you and his smile returns tenfold. “It’s spicy but like… in a sweet way.” A laugh breaks free before you can stop it. Sour would be better, you think, but you also suppose you don’t know what anything in the ocean tastes like. 

You gasp. He does.

“Wait! You’re a mermaid, right?”

“Uh, yes- yeah, I am.”

It’s like it only just hit you, that you’re only just able to connect the dots, “That’s! Oh my god, what’s it like? The ocean?” You barely give Izuku the time to breathe, “what do you eat? Is there… is there a government? Do you migrate — oh, oh, how deep can you swim?”

Izuku looks startled, completely lifted off his arms and staring at you with parted lips, “I… it’s warm and incredibly full of life.” You scoot towards him, nodding quickly, “I usually eat fish, stuff that’s already in the ocean. I like crab a lot, which is why I’m usually so close to crabbing boats.” His flush has worsened a little and he’s staring determinedly down at the rock, like he’s reading from a script. “I can’t swim all that deep down, the pressure gets really bad and it’s too cold for me.”

“We have a King, but it’s not really decided by blood, it's just whoever is the most capable!” Izuku’s looking at you know, propped up on his elbows, “which is a really good system, I think! Helps keep corruption out of power and the King right now is so good! You’d love him, I bet. He’s the coolest.” He seems to realize the rambling, but you only urge him to continue, “some of us migrate, but it’s more a personal choice! I had a friend that moved further south last year, but we’re not like turtles or anything.”

“That’s so cool,” you're not really talking to him anymore — voice so quiet only you can really hear yourself, “it’s like a mini-society.” You scoot closer to the ocean, “is there, like, species of mermaid? Like freshwater, saltwater, deep water ones?”

He nods and you notice his hair has dried, green curls bouncing with the movement, “mhm, the deep-sea ones barely ever get spotted though! They have their own little world down there, I bet.”

The idea conjures a, arguably, fantastical image in your mind. The haunting appearance of all those deep-sea fish science has captured projected onto human forms. Bioluminescent mermaids whose skin is so light it’s nearly see-through, showcasing glowing veins and bones. Mermaids with dangerous teeth and long claws dug into the wreckage they call home. 

You haven’t noticed the tide rising, water now gently lapping at your hips instead of your thighs until Izuku says something, “you probably shouldn’t be in the water — it’s late.”

Something odd is lurking in his eyes as he watches the water lap at your clothes and you nod, “yeah — yeah I should check on my uncle. Make sure he hasn’t strained himself.”

You feel his eyes on your back the entire time you're packing up, tracking your every move, until you’ve crossed the quickly vanishing bridge from the mainland to the cove. Izuku’s still perched on the rock, chin resting on his arms in a deceptively lax position. You can tell he’s alert.

“I’ll — I’m gonna come back, okay?” He seems to shake whatever had bothered him earlier off, grinning brightly.

The walk back to your Uncle’s house is quiet. You can’t help but think about Izuku and the look on his face. It was like he was… worried about the water touching you, like he didn’t like you sitting in it. And the way he’d watched you until you were back on dry land. Like he wanted to shelter you.

You see Izuku practically every day after that. After getting your uncle situated for the day and running whatever errands Katsuki needed help with, you’d make your trek down to the cove.

He tells you more about the ocean and starts bringing you gifts. Little things, usually, broken shark teeth and full sand dollars. You start bringing him different foods, mostly sweet fruits or fluffy breads.

Izuku asks a lot of questions, you learn. You also learn he’s not the biggest fan of citrus, preferring the muted sweetness of a mango or peach. Though you also quickly learn to remove the pits before he gets ahold of them so he doesn’t attempt to split them on his molars. 

The little walk to the cove has become routine, by now, despite being thwarted by thickets and grass, you find it easy to navigate. Your bag has a combination of kiwis — which you don’t expect Izuku to like — and mangoes, covered by a soft beach towel from when you were young. 

Izuku’s there when you arrive, perched on top of a large smooth rock close to the water's edge and fiddling with something in his hands. It looks large, from where you are, and pale. 

He jumps when you settle beside him, fingers tightening around the object — a shell — before he relaxes. Izuku says your name like a laugh, “you startled me.” His grip on the shell loosens and you can make out the details. It’s a conch, a beautiful swirl of pink and burnt orange and nearly half the length of his forearm. It’s beautiful. 

Izuku notices your stare and holds the shell up, nodding to you, “I found this the other day and I thought you might like it.” He barely lets you process the words before his breath stutters, “you, um, you don’t have to keep it or anything! You could give it to one of your friends or sell it or anything! It just made me think of you. Not that I. Not that I think of you.”

“Izuku,” you breathe, voice heavy with mirth and adoration, “I love it. It’s so pretty.” The fins on his tail shiver against the rocks when you take it and the blush coating his cheeks deepens. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t respond, not verbally, but his tail curls up against your thigh and the fins protruding from soft curls flatten against his head. Izuku’s eyes alight and he preens under the attention, shuffling even closer. He mumbles something under his breath and you have to lean in to catch even a word of it. 

You make a quiet hm? in an attempt to have him repeat it, occupying your hands with running over the notches of the shell in your lap. He jumps again when he glances at you, like he’s surprised that you’re still perched on the rock next to him. 

“I,” clawed fingers flex against your calf as he stares, lip caught between his teeth, “I wanna show you something. Next time you come.”

“Oh,” you’re not really sure why you’re surprised, “like underwater?” He nods earnestly, lip still caught between sharp teeth. Your hand curls over his own, fingers slotting together, “I’d love to, Izuku. I’ll dig my old snorkeling equipment out tonight.”

He lets out a breath, shoulders sagging as he melts into your side, “thank you.” Izuku makes a soft noise, low and rough like a purr, when your thumb rubs against his knuckles.

“I have more fruit.” You say it more as a distraction, a way to ignore the puffs of air against your throat, “mangoes and kiwi’s this time.”

“Kiwi?” His head lolls against your shoulder until he can look up at you.

“It’s kinda like… an apple and an orange mixed together,” you fumble. How are you supposed to describe the taste of something to someone whose pallet is so narrow? “Like, the same texture as an apple but a little softer and a little more citrusy.” 

His nose scrunches up and you laugh, “I didn’t think you’d like them all too much. But I figured you could eat the mangoes.”

You take to digging through your bag, his chin still balanced on your shoulder. The three fruits you’d brought are still cool from the grocer, sweating slightly in the sun. You’ve gotten good at cubing the fruits without anything to cut against, prying the pits from the cloying flesh. Though you suppose you’re entertaining any easy audience since Izuku usually eats fish straight from the sea. 

It’s easy to melt into the familiarity, no matter how odd the situation really is, of being around Izuku. You should probably still be weirded out by him — you’ve only known him for a couple weeks — but it feels right. Spending your day laid out on sun-baked rocks eating cooled fruit feels somewhat… inevitable.

The moment’s interrupted by a noise, heavy footfalls which sends Izuku shooting up and pushing himself halfway into the water. His hand curls against your ankles and a sound, low and crackly — a hiss — you realize, erupts from the back of his throat.

Then a head of blonde hair, spiky and soft, emerges from the trees. “Katsuki?”

“Kacchan?” You don’t have time to question why Bakugou’s here, too focused on the recognition in Izuku’s voice. The nickname, you assume, sounds too personal and you’re so confused. 

Katsuki ignores him, staring pointedly at you, “your uncle needs ya. Now.” 

Izuku’s still halfway in the water, fins pressed flat against his temples and claws dug deep within the rock. You apologize quietly as you gather your things, eyeing Katsuki over your shoulder.

The walk back into town was quiet again. Unnervingly so as Katsuki was determined to keep his eyes locked on the ground in front of him. You do the same, just to avoid the question, and interestingly sand looks the same in every single spot you check. Cool.

“So,” you start to regret the words before you even speak them, “you, uh, you already knew about mermaids, then?” 

He grunts in a way you take to mean ‘yes’ and you continue, “so did you know that’s what happened that night, then? Why I ended up close enough to the boat for you to be able to get to me?”

Another grumble.

“So… how’d you… how’d you meet?” Katsuki would’ve been the last person on the island you thought knew about mermaids. Denki maybe, who’d tried to convince you that every minor problem the town faced was aliens. Or even Eijirou who was so open-minded sometimes you worried about him catching flies. 

He sighs heavily. It was a fair question all things considered. “You’re not the first one in town to get swept off a fuckin’ boat.” A muscle in his jaw spasms, “and you’re not the first one that dumbass has rescued.” 

Katsuki stops talking after that, like he answered your question in any way satisfactorily. Then, he scrubs a hand over his face — pressing so hard against his eyes you think he’s trying to dig them out — before scoffing, “Just. Just don’t leave the fuckin’ beach without him around, alright?”

“Katsuki, I can swim, you know? I’m not a child.”

He pointedly ignores you, “alright?”

“Fine.”

“Planning on snorkeling later?” Your uncle’s gotten better, only needing a walking stick to be able to move around the house. You worry less about him now, too. “Didn’t know you still had those.”

“Yeah, I saw something at the cove yesterday,” you smile. It’s not a total lie, at least. 

He chuffs a laugh, turning the heat down on his bacon, “you remember how much you’d begged for us to finally take you? You hated being under. Had to hold you above the surface so you could just put the mask in.”

You do. You’d always had a weird relationship with the ocean — you loved the idea of it, what it held, but were terrified of the power. The destruction you’d seen it cause to not only the village itself but the people within. 

“Didn’t stop coming, though. You’re stubborn,” he turns to wink, “get that from me.”

The flippers don’t fit into your bag, bright green ends pressing against your arm and squishing the plums you’d bought yesterday. It’s earlier in the day than normal — sun not as bright and the sand cool beneath your feet.

Izuku’s waiting for you when you, his tail cutting impatiently through the water, when you finally arrive at the little cove. He schools his expression when he sees you, lifting out of the water with a bright smile and calling your name. “You came!”

“Of course I did! I promised, didn’t I?” He makes room for you on the rock, watching as you work the bright rubber flippers onto your feet. They’re uncomfortable and you can feel sand clinging to the sides of your feet.

“I was just… worried.” There’s an underlying tone that makes you think he’s not talking about you showing up. That he’s talking about this is—the water—what he’s worried about. “It’s not too far, promise.”

You’re not convinced he’s really telling you, more a reassurance for himself. But all the same, you smile down at him, “I trust you, Izuku.” 

He seems to relax at that, hands coming to brace your shins as you scoot closer to the stone’s edge. It is a little unnerving, being in the water again, but not so bad with him there. His palm slides up your leg, clawed hand curving over your hip—bracing you—as you finally shimmy down the rock.

Izuku’s hand moves to the back of your head when you start to sink, cradling your skull as a wave pushes you back against the rock. “Careful,” he murmurs. He doesn’t let you go once you’re fully in the water, tucking you easily in the crook of his arm and helps you slip the mask over your face. 

The water’s colder than you’d hoped, shudders racking you and you press closer into his side, “thank you.”

He swallows, visibly, and you can feel the anxious squirm of his tail against your leg before he settles. You float there, your back still pressed against the rock, for a moment before he grins again. Izuku’s grip tightens minutely before he lowers himself in the water, “ready?”

The flippers make it easier to keep up with him—a feat made even easier as Izuku refuses to let go of your hand, pulling you close to his side—and it doesn’t take much to reach what Izuku had wanted to show you.

There’s a reef, bright and colorful, just beyond the cove. The water’s colder there and bluer. The floor is covered in life, thickets of seaweed and bright clusters of pink and orange coral. The fish are smaller, but colorful and they don’t seem to fear Izuku when he pulls you in.

He still never lets go of your hand, following close behind you whenever you need to breathe. Izuku’s smile hasn’t left either—dimpled even as he watches you bob with the waves, wiping at the air slicking against your forehead.

You take to following him, cutting languidly through the water as he shows off his tiny world: bright pink plates of encrusting and fish no bigger than your palm. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it, of course, but it feels like you’re seeing it differently. 

You’re grinning when you break the surface, pulling your mask up your forehead and hands gripping at Izuku’s forearms, “that’s so cool, ‘zuku.” The taste of salt is heavy on your tongue, clinging to your teeth but you don’t mind. 

Izuku grins, the fins buried in green curls twist forwards, “good?”

“So good! I forgot how pretty the reefs out here are. I’m so glad you brought me,” he preens under the attention and you can feel his tail brush against your calf. You think he’s going to say something when he stops, staring at something over your shoulder, and gasps.

“One more,” his hands curl around your wrists and tug you forwards, following whatever he’d seen in the water. You have half a mind to try and slip the snorkel over your face but you don’t. You trust him.

He stops a little ways away, pulling you against him and staring down in the water, “look.” 

Your grip on his arms tighten when you do—a large manta ray is below you. It’s moving slowly, wings cutting lazily through the water barely a foot beneath when you’re floating. There’s a few more of them, deeper in the water, below it and you watch as they glide easily through the waves.

You laugh, quiet and startled, as you watch the creatures disappear from sight. The sound draws Izuku’s eyes to yours and he watches you for a moment. His hands move on your back, readjusting their grip and he knocks his head against your own, “ready?”

Your legs are screaming by the time Izuku’s leading you back to the cove. He seemed to have noticed you slowing, insisting you wrap your arms around his neck to let him pull you along. 

The air feels colder after being submerged for so long, and you shiver against his back. Izuku’s breathing is odd. You’ve always noticed it, it’s so much slower than your own, but the feeling’s soothing. You start to count them in your mind, letting your cheek rest against his shoulder as he moves. 

You barely notice that you’ve gotten back to the cover or that he’s started to move you. You follow him sleepily, letting him tuck your head under his chin and legs into the crook of his arm. 

He hoists you up onto the same rock you’d sat on before, slipping the rubber flippers off you. You don’t expect him to follow after you, arms on either side of you and hips framed by your knees, “did you like it?”

“I did,” you hum and tuck a drying curl behind his ear, “it was beautiful.”

Izuku grins again, so bright your chest tightens, and leans to press his forehead against yours. You feel his lips skim your cheek when he finally parts from you and slips back into the cove.

You wish you’d thought about this more—the inevitable—before you forced yourself to confront it. You’d always been meant to stay for just the summer. Help your uncle get back on his feet, enjoy the break before your semester started, and maybe figure out what you were going to study long term. You never planned on staying.

Izuku’s words replayed, the seemingly insignificant fact from when you’d first met. Most mermaids never left home. He’d spent his entire life here. You didn’t expect him to want to leave. 

And how would that work, anyway? You didn’t think he’d enjoy living in your bathtub nor do you think you’d be able to get him back home without more than a few questions. 

So the conversation had to happen. You just wish you’d prepared better. Or at least not keep avoiding it.

Izuku had started sunning with you. You’d spread out your plush towels by the water’s edge and he’d flop next to you, squinting at the sun and pressing himself into your side. It was easy, nice. And incredibly hard to think about leaving.

You’re sunning now, Izuku’s face tucked against your collarbone and curls dried against your jaw. His breath warms your neck, spreading across your chest. 

“Izuku?” He hums, fins twitching minutely, “do you think about the future?” You can feel his brow crinkle and have to fight yourself from smoothing it out with your thumb. “Like… what-”

You’re not sure how to ask. How do you tell him you’re leaving, that you were never here for long and your time has more than run out.

“Are you okay?” He’s propped himself up on flat palms, peering down at you, lip caught between his teeth, “what’s wrong?”

You regret bringing it up, wishing you could sink into the very sand and never emerge. But you can’t. And you can’t keep putting off this conversation. “Summer’s almost over,” you sigh.

Izuku’s head tilts, confusion washing over him before it hits. Oh. You’re leaving. His bottom lip escapes his teeth, wobbling slightly, and he pushes himself further away, “you’re leaving?” You don’t say anything—afraid the burning in your eyes will spill over—but you nod. “When?”

Your breath is shaking when you answer, “in the morning.”

You can see the words hit him, his shoulders sloping and tears bubbling to the surface. Izuku stares at you for a moment and you can feel his slow breathing speed, tears finally spilling over freckled cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, thumbing the tears from his face and pressing your forehead to his, “I have to go back to school and my uncle’s healed but I, I’ll visit.” You’re crying, too now. “I’ll come back every break if you want me too, I promise.” 

Your throat burns as you look at him, he looks so distraught. You want to fix it, but there’s nothing you can do.

“I’m sorry, Izuku.” Your thumbs continue to wipe at his cheeks, ignoring your own tears, “I wish there was a way—but I can’t. There’s nothing I can do, I can’t stay here and—”

“And I can’t leave.” Izuku’s voice is brittle when he speaks, waterlogged. You hate it. 

Your forehead knocks against his, nose nudging his own, and your arms drag him down against you, “I’ll come back, I promise, anytime you want me to.” The words come out weaker than you’d hope and you hope your actions are stronger, fingers tangling in his hair. “I wish I could take you with me.”

He tenses, breathing evening out suddenly. Your phone buzzes from the beach and you glance at it, “it’s probably my uncle.” You smooth a hand over his cheek, “I’ll figure something out.” Something odd has overtaken his expression, the sureness he had before he’d given you the shell or asked to show you something new—determination.

You gather your towels quickly, avoiding the water and Izuku’s heavy eyes. You know you’ll stay if you look.

You almost leave the shell. It’s the very last thing you pack, sitting on your windowsill beside a vase of dried flowers. It’d be easier to leave everything, you think. Bury it in your childhood chest of drawers and forget this break ever happened. 

But you can’t. So you wrap the shell in a soft sweater and tuck it into a corner of your suitcase. 

The bags a lot fuller leaving than it was when you first arrived. Stuffed with all the little shells Izuku’d given you and the small crate of creamy chocolate bars Kiri had insisted you keep to “remember him” by. He and Sero had also surprised you with an armful of hawaiian shirts, every single one already had their sleeves cut off for you. “Saving you time!” Sero had declared when you’d sighed heavily.

You still pack them.

You’ve cleared out everything but the tiny closet when you hear your uncle talking to someone. He sounds pleased, someone he knows then, and you only recognize the second voice when they’re at your door. Katsuki.

The door is pushed open, revealing a disarrayed Katsuki whose comically out of breath, gripping your doorknob and grabbing at your forearm.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He ignores you, pulling you out the door and down the stairs. Yanking at his fingers accomplishes very little, and complaining about your incomplete packing seems to make his grip tighten. 

“Katsuki! What’s wrong?” You dig your heels into the ground, finally becoming a big enough resistance for him to huff and turn to you.

“The cove.” Izuku.

Your breath catches and you let him pull you quicker, mind racing. Is he hurt? Did something happen? You’d seen him a few hours ago, how’d it happen that quickly?

The water’s empty and still when you finally breach the trees. And you fist at Katsuki’s sleeve. Then, you see him. He’s bundled up in a towel near the shore, curls damp and dark against his forehead. “Izuku,” you gasp. You notice the lack of fins first, nothing but achingly human ears protruding from his hair, then the fact that the beach towel ends in feet, pruned from the water. 

He smiles when he sees you, pained but still achingly bright and you choke on a sob, scrambling to kneel in front of him. He catches you easily, melting into your arms as soon as they find their way around him.

Your heart is still beating against your ribs as you cup his face, running your thumb over the curve of his cheek to collect the tears and saltwater. The absence of his tail becomes glaringly obvious when he shuffles closer to you, knees knocking against your own. “Izuku…why did you… what did you do?”

He shakes his head softly, curls dragging against your cheek as his nose presses into yours, “doesn’t matter.”

You laugh, bright and relieved, and he pulls you further against his chest. His lips skate across the curve of your cheek before his mouth meets yours, chaste and sweet. His arms wrap around your waist as blunt hands curl into the back of your shirt. You can feel his heart beating beneath your palm, skin warm and sticky with the sea.

He noses at your temple when you part, sighing softly, “I, uh, I can go with you, now.” He says it a little hopefully, like you’d ever say no and you nod hurriedly.

“Of course you can, ‘zuku,” nuzzling into his palms, “you’re gonna be hard-pressed to get rid of me.”

bakugou says he doesn’t do pda but won’t let go of your hand at the Hero gala from the moment you step out of the car and make it onto the red carpet until you’re seated side by side at your table.

in fact, not only does he hold your hand, tightly and intentionally, he brings your hand to his lips intermittently, looking straight at the cameras, as though he wants to make it sufficiently clear that he is taken, smitten by you. and only you.

and he won’t take any pictures alone, not by a long shot - in fact, he would growl at each and every one of these reporters if not for the fact that you enjoy talking to them, introducing him, yourself and your coupledom to the world.

bakugou doesn’t like public displays of affection, but him, in public with you, is affection embodied, and all can see his rare smile is not rare when he is besotted with you.

𝟏𝟐:𝟎𝟕 𝐀𝐌 | 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈.

he’s so pretty like this, you think as you watch him laugh. sakusa has a smile that could bring the sun to her knees, and he’s a pretty sight, and he’s yours. every moment with him, every word that’s spoken and every kiss he steals is like scripture you hold dearly.

“you have really cute dimples, you know,” you hum, poking the small indents of his cheeks. he gently swats your hand away, rolling his eyes. his cheeks are still flushed from the laughter from earlier, and you brush a few loose curls from his forehead.

“you don’t have to always bring that up,” he groans. and truth be told, sakusa loves when you point out little things about him, he loves the way your voice is always in awe, and he loves being the center of your attention.

“but they’re so cute, kiyo,” you pout, pinching his cheek delicately. “how was the party?”

“boring,” he mutters. “hate that they made me go.”

“well, your dad is really strict about these kinds of things,” you hum, threading your fingers through his hair as his head slumps onto your shoulder. it’s your last semester with sakusa, and then you’re both off into the real world, and you can’t help but hold onto these moments of peace a little bit longer.

“he was so annoying,” he grumbles, sinking further into your touch as you wrap an arm around him and pull him into your chest. and you should both go home soon—sakusa has practice and you have class, but you like the soft breeze kissing your skin as you lean against the trunk of a tree, and you like the weight of him in your arms as he settles into your embrace.

sakusa has never thought he’d be the type to like things like picnics in the middle of the night—but you make him live life a bit differently now, and he can’t say he minds it so much.

“tried to talk you out of volleyball again?” you murmur, and he nods, sighing. his family’s a little bit of a sore spot, but he trusts you enough to let you see those parts of him, even if they’re not his favorite.

“rambled on with my aunt about how i’m wasting my youth chasing something meaningless,” he rants, “and he said i was tainting the family name,” he spits bitterly. “you know she agreed with him? what a hag,” he spits, and you throw your head back and laugh.

“i think they’re just jealous they’ve never been on a news article,” you poke his nose, and he crinkles it lightly.

“can’t stand them,” sakusa mutters, but he relaxes a little when you press a soft kiss to his moles, making him hug you a little tighter.

“you shouldn’t listen to them, kiyo,” you say gently. “you love volleyball.”

“what if my dad’s right though?” he whispers, and there’s a small hint of doubt that’s always lingered in his mind, but you never let it surface for long.

“he’s not. you were the best player on the team as a freshman,” you remind him.

“wakatoshi played in the olympics,” he huffs. “and so did kageyama. i want to play in the olympics,” he pouts, and you run your thumb over his cheek as you cup it, smiling when he leans into your palm.

“you will,” you say, and sakusa feels his lips almost start to wobble at the confidence in your tone—no one’s ever been this confident in him. no one he’s needed it from, anyway.

“my dad’s trying to convince me to work with him in his office this summer,” he rolls his eyes. “says he thinks i’ve fooled around enough.”

“aw, kiyoomi my little business man,” you giggle, pinching his nose and making him scowl. “hope you wear a cute little tie that i can pull you into a kiss with.”

“i’m not doing it,” he scoffs.

“will you wear the suit for me then?”

“no,” he says flatly.

“at least a tie?”

“i’m having a crisis here,” he insists dramatically, and this time, it’s your turn to roll your eyes. sakusa’s always been one for theatrics, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy the show.

“oh, you poor thing,” you pout, and he huffs, shaking his head as you pepper kisses along his forehead in faux sympathy.

“you…you really think i can play pro?” he questions, and you snort, looking off to the distance as your hand rubs over his back slowly. sakusa has never been one to express himself, but if there’s one thing he does express, it’s way he loves volleyball—and lately, it’s the way he loves you.

you think you’re content with the late night rendezvous he lets you rope him into, and the evenings of waiting for him when he stays extra after practice, and the facetimes as you both study for midterms, and the way he sneaks out of family parties and you put off studying so you can have a picnic with him in the middle of the night.

“well duh,” you say as though it’s the most obvious thing on the planet, and his chest tightens. “if you don’t make it pro, then there’s no hope for japan to win the olympics.”

snorting, kiyoomi sprawls himself over your lap, grinning up at you and making his dimples surface once more. you poke them again, and he swats your hand away, and it’s routine by now.

“believe in me that much, huh?” he wriggles his brows, but there’s a soft hitch of his breath when you cup his cheeks gently and lean your forehead against his, pecking his lips delicately.

“even if no one else does, i will, kiyo,” you murmur, and this time, as sakusa really does fight off the wobble of his lips, he doesn’t think he wants to prove his father wrong anymore.

he only cares about proving you right now.

tumblr user: spam likes, bombards with requests, "part two"s and "are u going to continue"s and doesnt interact any other way

creator: deactivates

tumblr user:

"you have a birth mark on your back, do you know that?"

"no"

Bakugo was sort of proud of that fact. how he seems to know your body better than you do.

he watches you mindlessly scroll through your phone, using a squishy that you won him in a carnival- a grey wolf with a deep scowl, saying something about it looking like him- as an anchor for yourself as you lay flat on your tummy.

he hoist himself up, placing his chin on his palm as he lifts a rough calloused hand to trace over the stretch marks on your hips.

a delicate touch- so gentle. you could swear it felt like he wasn't even there.

all the small dents and crevices, all the birth marks and scars, every little stretch mark that you aren't aware of- he knows them all and he absolutely loves every single one of them and the big question is how could he not? all these "imperfections" are part of things that make you you, they are a part of you and not loving them is accepting to not love a side of you.

like a treasure map he traces the lines as if they'll lead him to the great unknown or even a treasure buried on some island somewhere.

the soft touches makes you giggle a little

"ya' ticklish here huh?"

"uh huh so stop tickling me before I-" you finally turn your back to look at him and he's staring at you in awe, his expression is soft and nothing like his usual scowl that he normally adorns. you guys are left staring at each other for a few slow seconds and you could swear your souls where connected.

he lifts himself up to place a soft kiss on the spot he was previously touching lingering a little before he leaves the spot he kissed missing his warmth but it's quickly replaced when he places his warms hands back on your hip giving it a nice gentle squeeze before he's back to tracing over it.

he's ingrained every part of you that he can into his brain, well atleast the small pieces you let him see and he's proud to say you let him he see quite a bit, even the sensitive parts that you yourself might not even be aware of. he knows how hard it is to show these sides of yourself to another person, to trust someone enough to not only show them your highs but also your lows, to let them know your weaknesses and flaws, he knows how petrifying that is but yet— yet you let him see so much. and he's left wondering how can you trust him this much.

the sudden overwhelm of emotions introduces a little thought in his head.

what if you suddenly decide to leave him.

he's plagued with the idea of waking up to see your side of the bed has run cold, the nick nacks you keep on your bed side table are all gone, the obnoxiously pink plushy you used as a punching bag whenever you got mad from work is no where to be found, it's as if you weren't ever here. perhaps you finally realized that he wasn't worth your time- he wouldn't blame you...

the thought of never being able to experience all these sensations and emotions again; never hear your beautiful voice or smell the cocoa butter lotion you spread on your skin or hear your slightly muffled voice as you sing your heart out in the shower— never be able to see that goofy grin of yours again scares him shitless... almost enough to make him want to cradle himself and hide under a mountain somewhere but he's too hung up on you to push you away now when you've both come so far. so the most he can do is remember, so if you ever decide to finally free yourself from the binds that is him, atleast he'll have just that. memories.

you quickly notice the knot that forms on his eyebrows.

"anything wrong?" worry evident in your voice as you place a finger in between his scrunched up eyebrows. he looks up at you and all the anxiety seemingly washes over him and he is silently scolding himself for ever believing you could ever leave him when you are looking at him like- like THAT.

"na 'verything s'just perfect." nuzzling into your touch.

He's grateful you trust him enough to let him know these things, see these things, experience slow quiet moments like this one. he never thought him off all ppl will be the one to experience something as gooey and mushy as this; a feeling that manages to make his heart turn to warm putty everytime he looks back on it, that manages to keep him grounded but yet make him feel like he's weightless at the same time.

he loves you and though he's never been the best at expressing it, he doesn't have to tell you. your given all the confirmation you need during quiet moments like this from how he's gently caressing your stretch marks to the light in his eyes seemingly glimmering as he stares at you in absolute awe.

Bakugo Katsuki

kiyoomi blushes a faint pink whenever you kiss the two moles on the top of his right eyebrow, proceeding to gently cup his face to give him a light peck on the lips. he knows you and seen you at the most vulnerable, but yet he can’t help but feel like a pubescent middle school boy with a fluttering heart, taking short glances at his first love, as he softly mutters in response, so close that only you could hear, “thank you and I love you.” He literally cannot continue the day without you planting a kiss there in the morning after his shower — his day just wouldn’t feel right without it. so after a long day, kiyoomi goes to sleep looking forward to another day with you placing a kiss on his moles, hoping that he won’t blush as much, nor have his heart pound from his chest at your simple touch…

but he falls asleep knowing he’ll fail tomorrow because he always has.

© sunareign 2022. Do not copy, plagiarize, and/or repost.

in which sebek steals a dance with you during the glorious masquerade event. you both make an entire spectacle on the dance floor. (alternatively, sebek is flirting with you and is trying to be super nonchalant about it by saying it's for the sake of Malleus' honor). sebek zigvolt x reader note: i was watching this and imagined every single twst guy doing this in glorious masquarade. but i love sebek smsmsm so its sebek today. also, did you know that crocodiles do courtship dances during mating season?

Masquerade balls were not the most accessible event from your modern world. To think that you would get the opportunity was but a fleeting dream. At least, that was the case until you were dragged along to Fleur City. How fortunate of Vil to tailor your own attire for you. The process was not free of charge, of course. All it truly costed was several days of Vil playing dress up with his human mannequin. Thankfully, the fires caused by Rollo's magic never left a scratch on your garments, and you were more than happy that the ball had resumed after the incident.

With such grace, you let out a fit of giggles as Rook twirled you around on the dance floor. "Well done, Trickster! It seems that Vil's dance lessons have finally paid off as well." The blonde lowers himself to a bow, and you return a gesture of your own with a wide grin. "Yeah! I gotta thank him once we get back. Those shoes he recommended me were very good too!"

Looking back on the sea of students and staff alike, you found some relief in Trein watching over Grim and Deuce as they raided the tables lined up with food. Everyone else seemed to be occupied, whether they were mingling with other students or eyeing Rollo with caution. Rook takes your hand once more, stepping into the imaginary box dictating your steps as you pivot backwards. He leans into your ear, hands lightly tapping at your shoulders as you both paused.

"Have you noticed how Monsieur Crocodile has been watching you?"

Eyes flickering upwards, you see the half-fae standing guard by Malleus and Silver. Whereas Malleus seemed engrossed in a conversation with a Noble Bell student, and Silver occupied with his duty, Sebek's gaze was trained onto you like a hawk. It was too intense, too different from the way he watches over Malleus and his surroundings with such caution. No, this felt much different.

Rook leans in closer, and you swear he is smiling at Sebek. You swear that Rook is trying to provoke him with the way he shifts closer to your ear. "He has been eyeing you for a long time now, Trickster." The song sways into motion once more, and you have turned around to face the hunter entirely. He finds himself amused over your pink cheeks, the way you shake your head wildly in denial. "Please, Rook. He probably doesn't want me dishonoring Malleus in some way, shape, or form because his lord is associated with me." You rambled nervously, swallowing to yourself as Rook takes your hand and turns you through the dance floor as the strings soften their volume.

"Non, non. I would be delighted to disagree." Rook comes to a halt, tilting his head to the side as he returns his hands behind his back. You pause, confusion overtaking your expression until you turn your head to the side, finally eyeing what had caught the hunter's attention. Striding forward was a seemingly coolheaded Sebek, a hand trained behind his back and the other, relaxed at his side. Fixing his signature smile, Rook bows slightly before the knightly figure.

"Good evening, Monsieur Crocodile! I have yet to see you on the dance floor."

Clearing his throat, Sebek nods at Rook with a tight jaw. "It appears that Epel requires your presence. May you tend to him before he gets swamped with too many unwanted admirers?" The three of you glance off to the side, eyeing a distressed Epel trapped in a crowd of students who seem too eager to ask him for a dance. You suppose that without Vil to overshadow everyone else, Epel's charms were rather hard to resist for some. Maintaining that smile, Rook leaves with a short nod to both you and Sebek, striding away from the dance floor with poise.

Hands fallen to your lap, you watched as Sebek take a step closer in front of you. Does he hear your heart pounding as he holds out his arm? Biting onto your inner cheek, you tilted your head to meet his eyes which were filled with nothing but sheer determination. "Prefect, may I have the honor of stealing you for this dance?"

He does not miss the way your cheeks burn red now, and you do not miss the way his ears matched the same color. Steal? That sounded intimate, in comparison to simply 'asking' you for a dance. Not that it mattered though, not when your heart was doing the flips in your chest for him. "But of course, Sebek. I would be delighted."

It takes you by surprise as he reached out for your hand, gently lowering his head to place his lips against your knuckles. If you were already flushed red, surely, you felt even warmer than before. You do not even register the way he places his hand on your waist, the other held high for you to clasp on. You waste no time either on shuffling your steps according to his pace, constantly adjusting and turning to his lead. Though his head was held highly, his eyes were still trained onto your face.

"I never knew that you were good at dancing." You tell him, taking a quick glance to the side to find Malleus and Silver observing you both, smiling at the sight. Sebek pays no mind to the crowd, grunting in response. "To master the art of dancing is another skill to perfect, should I be a knight worthy of the Young Master. Even beyond the sword, it is his honor that I carry."

The strings are soft and gentle as Sebek circles you, his hand never leaving your waist. To onlookers, it appears that Malleus's vassal in the making has a second master. He is close, yet keeps a distance to exercise his restraint. Sebek knows better than to impose onto your space, but he would not appear to be a stranger. After spending more than enough time with you, whether it be within the company of Malleus or not, it was safe to say you were at least acquaintances, if not friends.

Still, friends do not dance together so intimately in front of crowds, not like this. There was a certain delicacy to his steps, and you can feel his eyes on you even when your back his turned. When he takes your hand, he laces his fingers before pulling away as if you were set alight. You try to follow, give chase as you both brush elbows with a turn, barely catching his conflicted expression as he returns his hand to your waist. It is a neverending cycle of push and pull, chasing and running, wanting and longing.

With a pivot, you take a step towards Sebek's chest as he closes the distance. A quiet gasp leaves your lips as your chin lightly brushes against the padding of his chest, just as his hand presses against your lower back for support.

And just then, the music stops and all you hear are murmurs and whispers from the crowd.

You take the time to peer into your surroundings past Sebek's shoulder, marveling at the crowd that had seemed to circle the grand ballroom. Pairs of Noble Bell students are stationed at the border of the dance floor, centering you and Sebek in the middle of it all. The combination of a magicless student and a half-fae look out of place, not to mention how your attires seemed to stand out from Fleur City's garments.

Sebek comes to the conclusion faster than you as he huffed to himself. "Ah, it seems we are put on the spot." For once, he is quiet. Quiet does not always yield to meekness, however. He lowers himself to your ear, unable to see your piqued expression. "What shall we do, Sebek?" You feel him shift his head every so slightly, looking towards the direction of where Malleus was supposedly sitting.

The half-fae grunted, and you could feel his fingers on your hip tense slightly. "The Young Master's honor befalls on us both, so does the honor of Night Raven College." After what felt like a long time, Sebek slowly pulled away to look you in the eye. You were not shying away from him, too lost in the moment to consider the possibility of stage fright.

"Prepare yourself, Prefect. I shall not hold back on your accord if you wish." Bravado returns to Sebek's voice, almost similar to his usual tone when proudly representing the Briar prince. It is the way that his lips threaten to twitch into a smirk as you beam at him with an agreeable nod. "Good, looks like we're on the same page." You breathed out, the strings strumming to life once more. The tempo is faster now, and your head tunes into the beat quickly.

You surprise Sebek as you take the initiative first. Much like the Trickster you were, you circle Sebek once with an arm ghosted before his chest until you meet his front. Clenching his jaw, he was taken aback by a mere moment by your boldness before a smug smirk surfaces across his features. He takes your hand slowly, taking a careful step forward before falling into the beat.

You supposed that everyone had Vil to thank for teaching the inexperienced students on how to dance with one another. It was not the first time you would be dancing with Sebek, but this was an entirely different matter. There wasn't much of a dance routine to recall, but only trust that your partner would always be in sync with you.

Sebek never disappoints when it came to observation, and it didn't take too long for him to adjust to your movements.

The world spins with each turn and pivot, but Sebek never relents and neither do you. His cape is flying through the air, and the extensions from your clothes flow in sync with his movements. As you barely ghost your head from his chest, you continue to glance into the crowd. You were barely able to catch Deuce and Grim from the crowd, attempting to support you with a 'thumbs-up'. Then you could see Rollo and Malleus side-by-side, arms crossed and musing upon the sight.

Everyone was switching partners, leaping from one dancer to another. Sebek's gentle grip on you remained, and your hand never leaves his shoulder as you both spun.

There were so many people whose eyes were trained on you, and the idea makes your head spin until your dance partner noticed. "Prefect, do not stray your gaze from me." You are almost startled by how commandeering his voice had become. For a slight moment, you both pull away, an arm behind your backs and the other lacing fingers. His eyes trained onto yours, as they always were, Sebek gives you an encouraging smile. "Focus on me." You do not understand, judging by the way you cock your head to the side innocently. "Care not for what the others think of you. It is only you and I here."

It takes a moment for you to relax, returning his smile before you closed the distance once more with a sweep of your foot. "And what are you thinking of, Sebek?" You respond, and it is that look on your face that takes his breath away. As he sweeps at the floor with you, he struggles to find the words. Between dancing and thinking, both had begun to feel difficult with each second that passes while he remained fixed onto your eyes. Ever so quietly, he finally clears his throat to answer your question.

"I am thinking about how the radiance of Fleur City pales when compared to your expressions."

Everyone is leaping again, the colors of Noble Bell wash over into a blur as your lips parted with surprise. Words are trapped in your throat as you looked up at Sebek, eyes softening in thought. For a moment, Sebek's face froze, almost as if he feared your reaction when it was anything but rejection. Your silence would've pained him, if he weren't so captivated by your expression as the world continues to spin.

Finally, he breaks the silence with a whine.

"Please don't look at me like that, Prefect. I beg you." It snaps you out of your trance, prompting you to furrow your eyebrows slightly in confusion. "Why? I am only looking at you like you asked." Sebek's grip tightens only slightly, demonstrating even further restraint. Almost like an agonized hiss, he responds with an accusing glare. "That's exactly it! I cannot think straight when you look at me with such an endearing expression!"

If it was an indirect comment, it cracks a smile from your face. Even as your eyes flutter shut into your stifled laughter, you never truly face away from the half-fae. Huffing to himself, Sebek's ears flush a warm pink. "You dare provoke me like this?" He says quietly, but it is merely a warning before he puffs up his chest with pride, regaining a new sense of energy.

Squeezing your hand with care, Sebek cleared his throat with a scowl. "Very well, then I shall give you my all for tonight. Do not regret this." As surly as he attempts to be, it does not deter you from returning his gesture with a squeeze of your own. "Of course not!"

You no longer know how long you have been dancing for. It seems that a few pairs have resigned to rest, leaving behind more room for you and Sebek to explore. You've long stopped paying attention to your surroundings, far too concerned with the way Sebek mutters quick praises into your ear with each turn and twirl. He is swift with his feet, yet so careful to ensure you do not fall on his watch. Neither of you have yet to stumble, far too engrossed and connected to collapse now.

"Good, Prefect! Keep up!"

The music never stops, and it seems it has no intents of stopping until only one pair remains. If your feet were ever tired, you never notice, not when Sebek's hands are constantly finding ways to touch you. Even as you both part for mere seconds, it does not take long for him to come back. He returns to you, just as how you retreat to him, how you surrender yourself to him, how you trust him to not let you fall.

You never realize how he comes so close to your face, dipping you low until his breath brushes against the crook of your neck. Sebek's arm was secure in the way he kept you from falling onto the floor, despite how far he had lowered you. His hot breath brushed against your cheek, and you could feel his body tense as you tighten your grip on his shoulder. "Is it appropriate for you to be this close to me?" You murmured softly, meeting his dilated eyes, that beautiful shade of gold. "Does it cause you discomfort?" He muttered in turn, almost ready to shift away should you express it. Much to his concern, you shook your head with a coy smile. "No."

Sebek held a smug smirk, confidence reflected behind his eyes once more. Just as he heaved forward to pull you back up, his lips brushed against the slight curve of your ear. For a moment, you wondered if it was just your imagination when you felt a sharp fang press itself against your skin for a brief moment.

"Very good, Prefect."

It clicks.

This is no longer an ordinary dance. It is a game of hiding one's affections. For someone as loud and proud like Sebek, it comes to a slight surprise that he would indulge in subtleties to express his fondness for you. Once he had pulled you from his dip, something changes within Sebek's movements.

Sebek holds you as if he were possessed, eyes glazed with yearning. The song had begun to ride out its climax, intensifying just as your partner closed in on you like a predator trapping its prey. It's not just about upholding reputations now.

Leaning into your space, Sebek's restrained hand lightly clawed at your back as he presses you closer to him. Finally able to obscure himself from your vision, he struggled to keep himself from growling, however much he could hold back the fae within him.

"Be careful, Prefect. If you keep looking at me with those eyes of yours,"

Pulling away, he bares his fangs before you, teeth clenched with intense concentration. Perhaps the act of putting on a show was no longer on his mind, traded in for the experience of watching your lovely expressions as he continued to control your turns with each step and pull. Sebek would never let you turn away from him, and you wouldn't dare to tear yourself away from his powerful gaze.

"I might just devour you whole."

"Monsieur Crocodile! I did not expect such a display from him, I applaud his tenacity!" Azul sighed to himself, debating on whether he should or shouldn't entertain the blonde who had taken to himself with a handkerchief to his eye. Against his better judgement, he turns to Rook with an exasperated expression. "His tenacity is applaudable, yes. Still, I do not understand why you have to shed a tear, Rook."

"Have you not noticed, Roi d'Effort?" Rook clicks his tongue, his smile relaxing as he swoons over the sight of the pair returning to Malleus and Silver. "It is most common to part from your current partner and land in the arms of another for these waltzes. The entire point of this dance is to explore different faces, after all." Only then does it click for Azul who hums in amusement, seemingly impressed by the sentiment.

"Monsieur Crocodile has not switched partners at all, and the knight-to-be has no intentions of ever handing off the Trickster to anyone else." Azul certainly never coined Sebek to be quite the romantic.

From a distance, you nudged Sebek's shoulder with a cheeky smile. "I suppose this demonstrates the good will between fae and humans, doesn't it?" You teased, only to be met by a reddened Sebek. All the bravado he exhibited during that dance seemed to have disappeared in Malleus's presence, but it's not as if you disliked it.

"R-Right! You are correct, Prefect! This spectacle shall demonstrate the Young Master's benevolence towards humans, as well as all those who represent him!" Sebek rambled, unable to meet you in the eye. Rubbing at the back of his neck, Malleus could only smile to himself in amusement.

It seems that Lilia had won his bet; Sebek will not be expressing the entirety of his true feelings to you today.

[9:41 A.M.]

it’s the pounding headache you have in addition to the chirping birds outside your hotel room’s window that wake you up. you groan at the feeling, bringing a hand over your forehead, int attempt to soothe the pain by rubbing at the spot just behind your eyebrow.

how much did i have to drink last night?

when your massage doesn’t work, your throw your hand off to the side, expecting the soft, plush comforter to be what your hand hits but on impact, it’s a hard surface; a little squishy, but mostly hard.

with furrowed brows and squinted eyes, you turn your head and just about yelp at the sight beside you.

miya atsumu snores peacefully, rolled over facing you, curled up into a pillow as he sleeps soundly. your sound doesn’t make him budge one bit and neither does the nudge you give his shoulder.

you blink a few times, in attempt to wake yourself up further, as if this could’ve just been some figment of your imagination - or by the doing of your pounding head.

after a few seconds, you realize that miya atsumu is indeed in your bed and you have no clue how or why.

“atsumu, what the hell are you doing in my bed!?” you chant the question like your life depends on it as you pull and shake his arm. your sleepiness has worn off completely at this point and all you’re left with is a pounding headache and feelings of horror.

“shhh,” atsumu shushes, half asleep, “let m’sleep.”

“not going to happen! get out of my bed!”

“last i checked, iss’ my bed,” he slurs sleepily, never moving a muscle, except to curl further into the plush pillow under him.

you blink at him, looking around your surroundings and to your surprise , he’s right. this isn’t your bed. hell, this isn’t even your room!

it’s an honest mistake since nearly every hotel room looks just about the same in this building but still! what are you doing in the same room as this man!

from what you last recall, you attended the formal banquet with the team you managed, the msby black jackals, for their usual sponsorship and endorsement scouting in addition to the several interviews some highly classified paparazzi you oversaw and organized.

you remember bokuto having a fit about his suit and tie not fitting right, hinata wondering if other players were also attending, sakusa avoiding every surface like the plague, and atsumu pouting and trudging around like a bored child at a wedding.

you remember eating the hors d'oeuvres - only because they were those spinach puffs you could never get enough of - and sending off to ur team in different directions to chat up with businesses.

the last thing that seems somewhat fuzzy to you is someone offering you a drink? making a joke? complimenting you?

you can’t remember.

“you’re going to tell me what the hell happened last night after the banquet or so help me god, i’ll beat it out of you-“

“always the charmer,” he mutters into the pillow. “‘s this what ‘m s’pposed to expect for the rest of my life?”

you scrunch your eyebrows together at his question.

“what’s that supposed to-” your voice falls in your throat when you smack his shoulder again, only to see what’s adorning one of your fingers; the finger between your middle and pinky, to be specific.

there, twinkling in the light coming from the hotel room’s window, is a beautiful band studded with an equally beautiful rock of a diamond probably worth more than your income. your lips part at the sight and a gasp escapes your lips as you take a closer look.

“atsumu,” you mumble and it’s the seriousness in your tone that finally gets him to wake up.

atsumu’s eyes peel open and at the sight of you staring hard at your hand, he gradually moves to sit up against the headboard. “yeah?”

when you don’t answer, he rolls his eyes. “don’t tell me I got’ya the wrong size. i asked ‘ya like a million times what size ring y’were.”

“what?!” the loudness of your voice makes atsumu wince and he reaches to rub his temples wit his forefingers.

“jeez, what is it?”

“what happened last night.” it’s a question but your tone makes it sound like a statement as you glare at the man beside you.

atsumu gives you a long look, almost in shock that you don’t know. “jesus, how much did you drink last night? y’seriously don’t remember? i get that we were drunk but-”

“atsumu.”

atsumu sighs, now fully aware you have no recollection of the last twelve hours.

“we got married.”

prohero!bakugo but you, his wife, were kidnapped.

you sat in a dark room, the dripping of water the only sound you heard. your eyes were blindfolded, your hands restrained behind your back as you were bound to a pipe on the floor. the smell of blood filled your nostrils and you resisted the urge to gag.

"she's awake." a strange, gnarly voice you never heard before said, before ripping the blindfold of your eyes, a different man beside him shining a flashlight directly into your face.

you didn't wanna know what you saw in the corner of your eye, unmoving and surrounded by a puddle. but you were broken out of your thoughts by a voice:

"so, girlie, wanna tell us what your husbands weakness is? he put a bunch of our gang in prison some while ago, so we want him dead." a guy with a scar across his face questioned.

as you stayed silent, he pulled your hair, yanking your head forwards to look at him. "answer me, and we won't have to get ugly."

you glared at him, your eyebrows scrunching in annoyance, "no way, eat shit and die." at your words, the man slammed your head against the wall brutally, leaving a dent in the wall, and your head bloodied.

"looks like you'll be trouble huh? i'll ask you again, what's your husbands weakness?"

as you again refused to answer, the other man slapped you across the face. "maybe his next wife will learn to listen. but we'll keep you alive for a bit longer, maybe you'll have a change of heart."

they stood back, admiring their work on you. your nose was broken now, the smell of your own blood apparent to you now as it dripped over your face. your head was pounding as you struggled to stay awake.

"katsuki.." you muttered wearily under your breath, making the two men laugh at you. as you fought off tears off pain.. or was it embarrassment? you didn't know as the two feelings started to blur together.

you knew you just had to hold on. just for a second longer, he'd come for you. the tears dried up but her will didn't, even as the hours passed with no sign of katsuki.

"did your little husband forget you girl? guess you weren't as precious as we thought." the men laughed.

"y-you're wrong. he's coming, and you'll regret this." you mustered, making the men smirk. "oh yeah?"

"fuck yeah." a voice echoed through the compound, accompanied by the sound of a concentrated explosion blasting through the walls.

one of the men, shook up by his sudden appearance, and look of pure unadulterated anger, tried to run off. the other grabbed you, trying to use you as a shield for his next explosion, but katsuki just used it as an opening for a direct hit, sending him flying into the other man, rendering them both useless.

katsuki then ran over to you, untying you from your confines, and looked over you, gently grabbing your face in his hands. "shit, babe.. 'm sorry."

"you came.. i knew you would."

he took you into his arms, getting you back to safety. after this, he'd never want to let you out of his sights again, he just felt so worried, so anxious for what could happen.

but as you two held eachother, the thoughts and fears were all calmed by the feeling of your bodies in tandem.

HOW THEY BLUSH.

pairing(s): main three / midoriya, bakugo, todoroki + gender neutral reader (separate!)

warnings: none, just fluff!

navigation. masterlist.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

blushes with his whole face.

he really cannot help that his whole face warms up, all the way from his cheeks to his ears.

it's so easy to get him to blush; you can just throw personal space out of the window or say something even just a little bit flustering, he'll go red in quick seconds!

even midoriya can make himself blush when he leans forward to kiss or hug you, pulling away with his cheeks sporting a pink hue.

you could also be talking or showing off your quirk and he'll blush while starting to ramble in awe.

will he hide his blush? it really depends! if his hands or mind are occupied with objects or thoughts he won't, but if he's so flustered to the point he'll get super shy, that's when he will cower behind his hands and step back for a moment.

his cheeks go red from either your touch or words, and midoriya definitely needs a little break after every time he gets physical contact with you LOL

KATSUKI BAKUGO

blushes by the tips of his ears.

if you ever point out his blush (to his mortification), he'll absolutely deny everything and tell you that you aren't seeing straight at all

even bakugo's hands warm up when he's flustered... it's an instinct because of his quirk and he internally hates himself when you notice it

bonks the back of your head if you tease him too much, to the point where even his face warms up from the obvious denial he's in

he ABSOLUTELY does the childish thing where he covers his ears and rambles on about how he can't hear you at all, and plus that hides his blazing, red ears

while bakugo is deadpan and "calm" most of the time, i feel like he will very much blush if you just whisper in his ear or suddenly poke at his sides (ticklish bakugo?!)

... just try not to tease him too much and get exploded up as a result..

SHOTO TODOROKI

really tries not to, but ends up having a small blush on his cheeks.

if you catch him staring at you, he'll definitely try to avert his gaze and blush a little bit!

he sometimes doesn't even know that he's blushing, only noticing if you point it out or after he realizes that he's thinking about you a bit too much

tease him and todoroki will just huff and look away, knowing that he can't deny it at all because it's visually evident that he is blushing

he also doesn't bother completely hiding his blush since you've already seen it, but he does attempt to cover half of his face and avert his gaze from you (especially if you try to stand in his line of vision, it just makes him blush even more)

he doesn't blush when you say something flirtatious (cough cough midoriya and bakugo cough cough), but he will absolutely blush if you say anything flustering without the intentions of even teasing him

i also see him as someone who isn't ticklish but would blush from acts of service, like you preparing his favorite food for him or taking care of him when he's sick