Darling, it's better | down where it's wetter | k. bakugo merman x reader

The humidity outside is so high that the air is sitting thick and stagnant — it feels like it could be cut with a knife. It’s uncomfortably hot, and the air feels almost damp and sticks wetly in your throat as you breathe. Sweat pools in all the most uncomfortable crevices, until the desire to get into the water is less of a passing fancy, and more of an all-consuming need. You slip carefully down the hill, over the dry grass, until you hop down into the fine sand that makes up the little beach in the sheltered cove at the bottom of the hill.

The cove is protected by natural cliffs on either side, with the only access point being the hill that your uncle’s house sits on. It’s small, but the stretch of sand is soft and golden and clean, absent of any tourists and the debris that they tend to leave behind. It is, by all accounts, perfect, and a far better option than the significantly more crowded beach fifteen minutes away. Thanks to the hill and the natural caves, the air is cooler and easier to breathe in the cove. You set out your towel and water bottle near the base of the hill and strip down to your bathing suit, hefting your inflatable floaty up and preparing yourself to march into the ocean. After all the time spent inside your uncle’s grody house, the fresh air and fine golden sand feels like heaven.

When you finally work up the nerve to dip your toes into the water, you have to fight not to recoil from the cold. The temperature of the water is cool and chill, a direct contrast to the heavy, hot thickness of the air, and it takes a few minutes of psyching yourself up before you’re able to submerge yourself fully. Despite the chill, the sensation of being surrounded by water is a relief after the oppressive afternoon heat. You wade out further, keeping a mindful eye out for the reefs your uncle had mentioned, until the water comes up to your hips, then your chest, then your collarbones. You let the tension seep out of your shoulders as you float, buoyed gently by the waves. It’s the most peaceful you’ve been since your stay with your uncle began after he broke his leg; you don’t mind taking care of him while he heals, but you didn’t quite realise how much you needed a break until now.

The saltwater is like a balm; it takes some manoeuvring to actually get yourself up on the floaty, but once you’re settled and relaxed you think you could happily float on your back like this for hours, lost to the warmth of the sun on your skin and the waves rocking you back and forth. The fresh smell of the saltwater and the soft swaying of the floaty in the ocean waves lull you into a peaceful doze. 

Naturally, that’s when things start to go wrong.

As you fall into a light sleep, you fail to notice the thick grey clouds rolling in and the tide pulling out. The waves creep higher and crash faster, and your floaty bobs rapidly along as you sleep, unaware of just about all of it. 

That changes when the floaty catches on a sharp rock jutting out of the water; awareness comes crashing back to you as the floaty tears right as a wave breaks over you, the acute chill of the water and the weight of the ocean pushing down over your head. The shock of the cold water leaves you momentarily stunned and in the brief moment before you start thrashing against the icy waves, a riptide catches your legs and tears you through the water.

Panic rears up in your chest, sharp and choking. Your chest is already aching from the lack of air since you hadn’t had the chance to get a proper breath before you had gone under, and you’re not able to thrash against the current with as much force as you need to be able to reach the surface again. You kick frantically against the water, muscles burning, but you’re so disoriented that you’re honestly not even sure if you’re swimming in the right direction; the salt burns your eyes when you try to open them, and everything is so dark that you can’t tell which way is up.

Your head crests the surface of the water, and you just manage to suck in a painful breath when another wave crashes down over the top of your head. As you struggle to right yourself and reach the surface again, you find your movements becoming sluggish. You’re panicking and running out of air, but even though you know that you still can’t manage to fight your way to the surface.

For a moment, something pale cuts through the water in front of your eyes and you think that you’re about to emerge into the air again, but you feel so impossibly tired. Your vision begins to go dark, and your limbs are so heavy that continuing to struggle against the tide is impossible. 

You know that you’re sinking, but there’s not a thing you can do to stop it.