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imagine marine biologist ! reader seeing Deep’s gills and she’s just fascinated with them and super gentle eeeee

deep letting marine biologist! reader see his gills !!

Kevin sat on the edge of your desk—your study desk, not your office desk, which was a distinction that made his gills flutter nervously beneath his Vought-issued suit. The room was dimly lit, all warm amber lamps and the soft blue glow of aquarium tanks lining the walls. Thousands of tiny voices whispered in his mind, a chorus of contented fish and coral thanking you, praising you, telling him how happy they were.

She takes such good care of us.

She sings to us in the mornings.

Her hands are so gentle when she cleans our homes.

Kevin swallowed hard, his throat dry. This was different. This wasn't the bright, clinical space of your office where he could pretend he was just dropping by for a chat, where he could babble about cephalopod migration patterns or the proper salinity for seahorse tanks. This was intimate. This was personal.

And you were standing between his knees, looking up at him with those warm, curious eyes that made his brain turn to static.

"Okay," you said softly, reaching for the zipper of his suit. "Ready?"

"No." he blurted, then immediately winced. "I mean—yes! Totally. One hundred percent. Very ready. Extremely-"

"Kevin." You paused, your fingers hovering near the zipper pull. "We don't have to do this. I know I've been asking, but if you're not comfortable.."

"No!" God, why did he keep yelling? He took a breath, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart. "No, I want to. I just…" He trailed off, watching your expression shift to gentle concern.

The truth was, he'd been dodging this for weeks. Every time you asked, and you'd asked so sweetly so genuinely curious, he'd made up some flimsy excuse. Oh, the lighting's not right. Oh, I'm a little dehydrated today. Oh, the gills are sensitive to temperature changes, maybe another time.

And each time, he'd watched your face fall just a fraction. You were too kind to push, too understanding to pressure him. But he saw it, that tiny flicker of disappointment you tried to hide behind a smile. And it was driving him insane.

Because he wanted to show you. He wanted to be seen by you. Wanted you to know every part of him, even the parts he'd spent his whole life hiding and hating.

But what if you were disgusted? What if you looked at his gills—these ugly, scarred, pulsing things on his chest, and finally saw him for the freak he was? What if you pulled away and never looked at him the same way again?

He'd been spiraling about it for days, pacing his apartment, talking himself in circles until he'd finally landed on a decision that felt like a blade: If showing her makes her despise me, then I'll drop her. I'll never talk to her again. I'll go back to being alone. It was self-destructive and pathetic and the only way he could get himself to actually do it.

But now, looking down at you, at the soft curve of your lips and the way the tank lights caught in your hair, he realized he'd been an idiot. If he lost you, he wouldn't survive it. Wouldn't even want to.

"I'm scared." he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I know that's stupid. I'm a goddamn superhero. But I'm scared you'll think they're gross."

Your eyes softened impossibly, and your hand came up to cup his cheek. "Kevin. I've been begging to see your gills for three weeks. I have an entire journal full of notes and theories and sketches based on everything you've told me about them. Do you think I'd do that if I'd find them gross?"

He blinked, something warm and terrifying blooming in his chest. "You… you have a journal?"

"You're literally the only naturally occurring aquatic human hybrid in existence. I'm a marine biologist. Do the math."

He let out a shaky laugh, and before he could second-guess himself, he grabbed your hand and pressed it against his chest, right over where his gills sat hidden beneath the fabric.

"Okay," he breathed. "Do it."

You smiled, hand slipping out from under his and moving towards his back. Your fingers found the zipper of his suit, and slowly, agonizingly, you pulled it down. The sound was impossibly loud in the quiet study.

The suit peeled away, and Kevin watched your face as his chest was revealed inch by inch. His collarbones, then his sternum, pectorals, ribs and...

And then the gills themselves, three prominent slits on each side of his ribcage, fluttering slightly in the open air.

Your eyes went wide. Wide. Not with disgust. Not with horror. But with wonder. Pure, undiluted amazement.

"Oh my God," you whispered, and your voice was so reverent, so full of awe, that Kevin felt something crack open in his chest. "Kevin, they're beautiful."

"What?"

But you weren't listening. Your hands were reaching out, hovering just above his skin, and he could feel the heat of them, the faintest ghost of a touch.

"Can I-"

"Yes." The word came out desperate, almost pleading. "You can."

Your fingertips made contact with the skin just around the gills, and Kevin's entire body seized. A sound escaped his throat, something between a gasp and a whimper, and his hands flew out to grip the edge of the desk.

"Are you okay?" You pulled back immediately, concern flooding your features. "Did I hurt you?"

"No!" He grabbed your wrist, guiding your hand back. "No, it's- I didn't.. s'nothing."

He couldn't answer. Could barely form words. Because your touch was so gentle, so impossibly careful, tracing the ridges and valleys of his scarred skin with the kind of tenderness he'd never experienced in his entire life. The skin around his gills was sensitive, he'd known that, but this was something else entirely. Every brush of your fingertips sent sparks through his nerves, made his breath catch in his throat, made him want to whine and press closer.

"They're fluttering.." you breathed, and he could hear the smile in your voice. "I can see them moving. Kevin, that's incredible. Do they do that when you're happy? Or is it a response to touch? Can I—can I trace one? Just the edge? I promise I'll be careful."

"Yeah." His voice cracked. "'course."

Your finger traced the edge of his left gill, feather-light, and Kevin's hips bucked involuntarily. A desperate, needy sound tore from his throat, and he was suddenly so glad the study was dimly lit because he could feel the heat flooding his cheeks.

"Sorry," he gasped. "I'm sorry, I don't know why-"

"Don't apologize." You were grinning now, a knowing little smile that made his stomach flip. "This is fascinating. The sensitivity level is incredible. Does it—Kevin, are you shivering?"

He was. He couldn't help it. Every nerve in his body was singing, and all he could focus on was your touch, your warmth, the way you were looking at him like he was something precious rather than something broken.

"m'sorry" he babbled, the words spilling out like a dam had broken. "I don't know why I'm- fuck, this is so embarrassing."

"Kevin." You cupped his face with your other hand, tilting his chin down to meet your eyes. "You're doing so well. You're being so brave. I'm so, so proud of you for trusting me with this."

His breath caught.

Brave. You thought he was brave.

"I want to ask you some questions," you continued, your voice so soft, so kind. "Is that okay? You can say no. You can stop any time."

He nodded frantically, not trusting his voice.

"Does it feel good?" you asked, tracing the edge of his other gill. "When I touch here?"

"Yes." The word came out as a whimper, pathetically needy. "So good."

Your grin widened, and you leaned in closer, your face inches from his chest. He could feel your breath ghosting over his gills, making them flutter faster.

"Fascinating," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. "The nerve endings must be incredibly concentrated. I wonder if.." You pressed a gentle kiss to the skin just above his gill, and Kevin saw stars.

"'kay-" he heard himself choke out, his voice high and desperate and completely unlike him. "Okay, I'm going to pass out now. This is how I die. I'm going to die on your desk and I'm a-okay with that."

You laughed, a bright, beautiful sound that made his heart ache. "You're not going to die. Are you feeling dizzy?"

"Very." He was definitely going to embarrass himself. He could feel it building. "I just- you're just.." He gestured vaguely at his chest, at you, at the entire situation. "You're being so nice. You're not grossed out. You're- you think they're beautiful. I don't- I don't know how to process that."

Your expression softened, and you rose on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his forehead. "Kevin. I've been researching marine life since I was six years old. I've studied everything from the tiniest plankton to the largest whales. And in all that time, I've never encountered anything as extraordinary as you."

He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a watery, pathetic sound.

"Are you—" You pulled back, eyes widening. "Are you crying?"

"No," he lied, even as his eyes were a tad bit glassy and he had to swallow thickly. "m'not crying. m'just leaky."

You laughed again, that beautiful sound, and reached up to wipe his tears away with your thumbs. "You big, beautiful, ridiculous man. Come here."

And then you were kissing him, soft and sweet, and Kevin's brain completely short-circuited. His arms came up to wrap around you, pulling you closer, and he could feel your smile against his lips.

When you finally pulled back, you were both slightly breathless. "You know," you said, a wicked glint in your eye, "you still haven't answered my questions about whether the sensitivity is consistent across all of your gills. I have a list, you know. About a dozen more things I want to try."

Kevin stared at you, his mind completely blank.

"I'm going to marry you." he blurted out.

You burst out laughing, shoving his shoulder gently. "Let's start with letting me finish my research, okay?"

He nodded frantically, already pulling you closer, desperate for more of your touch, more of your attention, more of you. "Anything. Everything. Whatever you want."