Discover Top Posts Tagged with #mermaid!lance

Oct 26, 2018

When the waves are angry (Mermaid!Lance x reader)

Hey so I finally finished this, god this took ages but it’s done!!! first original fic involving mermaids, bonding over snowglobes and near-death experiences (plural).

At first this was supposed to be a 2000 word bunch of fluff but I just couldn’t resist throwing some angst in there so uhhh here *shoves 6k monstrosity at you and flies away into the night* edit: I’m posting this while in the middle of the Sahara Desert, as you do

Word count: 6.7 K

Genre: fluff/angst

Notes: CW: injuries, near drowning - masterlist

——-

Well, at least you could cross “Meet a merman” off your bucket list.

You’d been doing your daily morning walk on the beach. There was a chilly wind, and the sky was filled with clouds, but you didn’t really mind. You liked the sea best when the blue-grey waves were a little wild, when they sprayed a white mist with every time that they crashed into each other. It reminded you that the ocean was not to be toyed with; that it will rip anything apart on days that it felt like it. It reminded you of the raw power that the sea possessed.

You had been admiring the waves when you spotted, out of the corner of your eye, a huge net, bunched up on itself, washed ashore. Or at least it looked like it was bunched in on itself. When you came closer, though, you saw that something was trapped in it. It looked about a metre bigger than an average human.

Anger sparked in your chest. Anger towards the people that caused this kind of death, the people that didn’t care for the lives of aquatic creatures like the one trapped in that net. You craned your neck to get a better view of the creature. But then it moved. You could see its blue-green tail flapping desperately, but the fish only tangled itself further into its trap.

The fish looked tired: its scales were caked with sand, as if it had been laying on the shore for a pretty long time. Its attempts to break free of its knotted prison were weak.

You fingered the switchblade you always kept in your pocket, biting your lip. You could try to cut the creature loose… of course, there was a risk that the fish would only struggle more at the sight of you. You could scare it, rendering it almost impossible to cut the poor animal loose without harming it. But then you shook your head. You would just be extra careful. There was no way that you would leave an innocent animal to die. Flicking the switchblade open in your pocket, you ran towards the creature, determined to save it.

As you came closer, you started to notice things about the fish. Strange things. For one, you couldn’t see the upper half of the fish even though it was flapping around and spinning and twisting. Instead, you saw… Were those arms? And a torso? And a head?

There was a boy trapped in the net, along with the fish.

“Hey,” you called out, sprinting to close the distance between you and the net. Your voice could barely be heard over the roaring of the waves. Angry waves.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

At the sound of your voice, the boy in the net let out a strangled cry. He started thrashing more fiercely than ever, desperately trying to free himself but the panicked jerks of his limbs only constricted him further. You were now only feet away, but suddenly you stopped dead in your tracks.

Your eyes raked the boy’s body, your brain not processing what they saw. That’s impossible, your brain whispered. Well obviously, it is, your eyes responded. You sucked in a sharp breath. For where the boy’s legs should have been, blue-green scales met tan skin.

Then you understood. The boy wasn’t a boy at all, or at least not wholly. He was a mermaid. Merman? Merperson. A child of the ocean. You recalled a story you had read a while ago. When the sea weeps for its children… The waves were angry, indeed.

That also explained why he was so scared of you: he most likely thought you were going to hurt him. The thought made you sad.

You took a step forward, ready to crouch beside him, but as soon as he laid eyes on you the boy hissed. Hissed like an enraged cat, and you froze and put your hands up in the air. Your switchblade seemed to grow hot in your pocket.

“I want to help you,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice from trembling. The boy hissed again.

“My name is Y/N. I’m not going to hurt you, all right? I’m going to get you out of the net.”

At that, the boy stopped struggling like a madman, though he still eyed you warily and his tail still flapped about.

You took another tentative step closer, and this time the merboy let you. He hissed faintly, but it sounded more scared than threatening. Very slowly you closed the last few feet between the two of you and crouched, not breaking eye contact with him in an effort to reassure him. Then you realized he might not even speak English. That would complicate things a bit.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying?” you blurted. You felt a blush heat up the back of your neck. Smooth, Y/N. The boy looked at you, teeth still bared, but he didn’t hiss. Instead, after what felt like forever, he gave a curt nod. You breathed out a sigh of relief.

You reached into your pocket. “I’m gonna use a knife to cut you loose, okay?” You slowly retrieved the gleaming blade, carefully watching the boy’s expression. When his gaze fell upon the knife, he let out a small whimper.

His tanned chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His arms were bent at uncomfortable angles, tangled in the net. One pointy webbed ear peeked through the knots. He didn’t say anything, just eyed the knife suspiciously.

Then his gaze flickered up to your face and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes were the most brilliant blue you had ever seen, framed by long dark eyelashes. Underneath them hung heavy bags, betraying just how tired he was. Sand cakes his face and hair. His lips were pressed in a tight line, but he didn’t show any signs of hostility. No, when you stared into those bright blue eyes, all you could see was pure fear.

The boy was terrified of you.

Seeing him so close, seeing the terror that undoubtedly coursed through his veins at that moment, it felt like all the air was knocked out of your lungs. Before you knew what you were doing, you reached for his hand. When your hot skin came into contact with his, the boy’s eyes grew wide and he tried to jerk his hand away.

“It’s okay,” you promised him, but your voice shook with sadness. Sadness that this beautiful creature was so afraid of you, and sadness that he must have a reason to be so afraid of humans. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.”

When you tentatively brushed your fingers over his again, he didn’t pull away. You mustered a smile. His hand was cold in yours, his skin dry and rough. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting it slip out of your grasp and focusing on the net. You gripped your knife tightly, trying to stop your hand from trembling. You took a deep breath before resolutely placing the razor-sharp blade on the rope.

The boy gasped and squirmed, and you yelped as you almost nicked his shoulder. You gave him a stern look. “Hold still! I almost cut you!” The boy held your gaze, a hint of defiance pushing away the fear. “Hold still,” you repeated before slowly starting to cut at the net.

Cutting a struggling merboy loose of a net took longer than you had planned. The ropes were thick and sturdy, and the boy had tangled himself in it so tightly it was a wonder he could still breathe. Every time he squirmed when the cold metal came a little too close to his skin you chided him and after a few staring contests, he finally admitted his defeat and lay still.

Fifteen minutes in, you’d freed his head and one arm.

You sat back and popped your neck, blowing a lock of hair out of your face. You shot the boy a look. He lay still on the wet sand, on his back, eyes closed and face relaxed. You studied his face. Patches of small blue scales barely shone through the grime on his face, but they were there. On his neck you could see four slits ion either side, covered with a patch of skin. Gills, you realised. His hair was still tousled and matted with sand, but with him looking so peaceful you couldn’t help but notice that he was very handsome. His relaxed face also meant that he trusted you enough to let down his guard a bit. The thought made you feel fuzzy inside.

Then he popped open one eye and you dove for his other arm in an attempt to hide your undoubtedly bright red face.

The minutes passed in silence, you furiously slicing at the ropes and knots and cursing the people who made it under your breath. When you freed his second arm, you noticed a piece of driftwood that had gotten stuck in the net with him and had embedded itself in his shoulder. Blood was smeared around the cut. You bit your lip in worry. That wound looked nasty.

After examining it closely, you decided that it didn’t look too deep, but when you tried to touch his shoulder, the boy hissed sharply, so you moved on to cutting loose his tail.

Pushing away pieces of seaweed that had gotten tangled in the net, you sliced through the last few knots and flicked the switchblade shut with an air of finality. “There. Now let me look at your shoulder, that cut might be infected.”

The boy narrowed his eyes— and then slapped you in the face with his tail fin. You yelped in pain— that stung!— and fell backwards with a grunt. You heard splashing, and when you scrambled to your feet, still dazed from the hit, he was gone.

The only sign he had ever been there was the mangled net that lay at your feet.

—–

The next days, you spent as much time as you could on the beach, trying to sort out your thoughts.

You hadn’t told anyone about your encounter, of course. Who would believe you? Your father would probably laugh, and your mother would heave a disappointed sigh. You didn’t trust your friends enough to talk to them about it. And, well… you kind of started to doubt yourself as well.

When you’d gotten home that morning, shaken up and confused, the first thing you did was take a long nap. When you’d woken up afterwards you had sprinted to the place where the net had been, only to find it gone. There was no sign of a net or a merman. More confused than ever, you’d gone back home and brushed off the worried looks and Are you okay’s your mother and father had bombarded you with.

Sullen and with your hands shoved deep in your pockets, you kicked at the sand. The sea had calmed down. The waves were no longer angry. The sky had cleared, but your mind was foggier than ever. The sun sat already high in the sky.

You reached a big rock that jutted from the sand and slid down it. You sat down on the sand with a groan, closing your eyes against the sun. As you sat there with your back against the rock and your legs sprawled out in front of you, the sun gently kissing your face, you decided that your ‘encounter’ had merely been a product of your imagination. Mermaids didn’t exist, and that was that.

Oh, how the universe loves proving you wrong.

At the sound of a soft splash in front of you and then a muffled thud, your eyes snapped open. You didn’t see anything at first, but then you noticed the rippling in the water, as if something had been there not too long ago.

Then your eyes fell on something between your legs.

A huge shell sat there, still dripping wet. You were positive it had not been there before. You picked it up with trembling fingers. The shell was cool to the touch and about as big as your hand. You flipped it over with a frown. It was pretty. Very pretty, in fact: a white shell like a hermit crab’s with intricate patterns in various shades of grey. Very, very pretty indeed.

You glared at the sea. Typical, you thought. Just as you’d accepted that maybe your mermaid encounter hadn’t been real, shit like this happens.

You clambered to your feet, gripping the shell in your hands. You were going to keep it. It was pretty.

The same thing happened the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. You would go to the beach, and you would always find pretty seashells or shiny rocks or little trinkets at your feet when they hadn’t been there a moment before. You kept them all, though. Every single one of them. They were pretty, and they made you smile. You had neatly arranged them on a shelf in your room, and every night you would stare at them, hoping that maybe one day you’d see the merboy again.

You marched onto the beach, towards the cluster of big rocks where you had received your first gift. You climbed onto the first boulder, then you made your way over to the ones sitting deeper in the sea, hopping from rock to rock. When you were satisfied with your location you flopped down and crossed your legs. You felt your shorts get wet but you didn’t care.

You pulled the object from your pocket and gently laid it in front of you, about a metre away from you, on the far edge of the rock you sat on. Then you folded your arms and waited, eyes closed.

After maybe five minutes, a faint splashing noise made you perk up. You still had your eyes closed and your arms crossed. You listened intently. Yes, there it was again, closer this time.

“I know you’re there, you know,” you said, still not opening your eyes, a smile playing on your lips. A giggle sounded. More splashing. Could it be? You had to make sure.

You peeked through one eye and almost fell off your boulder.

There he was, his head resting on top of his arms that he’d folded on the edge of the rock. A loose smile curled his lips. His brown hair glistened with seawater, dripping at the edges. The small patches of blue scales now shone in all their glory, dusting his cheeks like freckles. A drop of water shone on an upturned nose, but most startling of all were his eyes. They were even bluer than you remembered. The same colour as the ocean that glittered behind him. And all fear was gone from them, replaced by a kindness and warmth that made your stomach flutter.

“This is pretty.” He nodded towards the small glass object that rested only inches from his nose. The soft, melodic sound of his voice did nothing to help the butterflies in your stomach.

For a few moments, you were at a complete loss for words. Here he was, after days of believing that he wasn’t real. Yet his face was only feet away from you, those stupidly beautiful eyes gazing into yours and knocking the air right out of your lungs.

“Yeah. I know, it’s – it’s for you. It’s a gift,” you stammered, your voice an octave higher than usual.

A delicate, webbed hand brushed over the rounded surface of the small snowglobe. It was pretty. Inside the glass ball, a tiny mermaid sat on a rock, brushing her long hair. Small shells littered the ground, fake seaweed surrounding her.

“A gift?” he mused, sending you a confused look.

“Yeah. You’ve been giving me pretty shells and stuff for weeks, it seemed only fair I return the favour.”

When he didn’t answer, fingers still examining the snowglobe, you stuttered, “That – that was you, right?”

The boy’s cheeky smile grew wider, but his eyes never left the little sculpted mermaid. “It was,” he confirmed. His clear voice had a pleasant accent. It made you want to hear more of it.

“Look,” you said, taking the snowglobe and shaking it. The confused look that rested on the boy’s face didn’t last when you placed the globe in front of him once more, showing off the blue glitter swirling in the liquid. His face lit up, an excited smile replacing his frown. You died a little inside at his childlike cuteness.

“It’s called a snowglobe,” you squeaked, only to pull a response from his mouth, to hear his voice again.

“A snowglobe?” He said the foreign word slowly, pronouncing every syllable with care, as if tasting the word on his tongue.

You nodded, hoping that your face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“And you’re giving your snowglobe to me?” he asked incredulously, finally tearing his gaze away to look you in the eye.

“Yeah. I’ve got tons of others at home anyway,” you said, fiddling idly with your fingers.

Then something else entirely popped into your head. “Hey, how’s that shoulder? Last time you wouldn’t let me look at it.” You crossed your arms again. “And then you hit me in the face with your tail.”

The boy’s cheeks grew red and he gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Ah, yes. Sorry about that.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But the shoulder’s fine, thanks.”

You’re damn right it is, you thought while scanning his broad, toned shoulders. Now that the blood and dirt was washed from them you noticed that they were covered in the same small scales as his face. They looked like stars. You had to force your gaze back to his face.

“Hey, I - I never thanked you for saving me. From the net.”

You dismissed his words with a wave of your hand. “It was nothing. You needed help, I wasn’t going to let you die.”

“No, you don’t get it. It wasn’t nothing.”

The boy motioned for you to scoot over, and you did as you watched him heave himself onto your rock with a grunt. He sat next to you, bare-chested, pearls of water glittering on his tanned skin.

“Where I’m from we learn to fear the Landwalkers. I grew up with stories of how they empty and pollute the oceans and kill the creatures that live there.”

You studied his face as he spoke. “You have no idea how many times I’ve been told to stay away from the surface, and how many times I ignored it,” he added with a mischievous grin and a sideways look your way. “It’s basically been drilled into my mind that I cannot be seen by any human. Ever.”

“Well, look how that worked out for you,” you muttered with a smile. The boy threw his head back and laughed, a melodic sound that made your heart skip a beat and you coughed to mask your awkward whimper.

“Anyway, I’ve always wanted to see what the surface was like and, well, I’ve seen it. I would hide behind rocks like these and study the people walking on the beach. Especially during days when the sea was wild. Less chance to be spotted that way,” he explained.

“But then you got stuck in a net,” you said softly, squinting against the setting sun.

“But then I got stuck in a net,” he agreed. “I have never been that terrified before. When I washed ashore I thought for sure that I was going to die because I just couldn’t stay away from the surface. I don’t even remember how long I laid there. But then I saw you come at me with a knife and I thought I was done for.” He fidgeted with the snowglobe, shaking it again to see the sparkles dancing.

You remembered the look of pure fear that he’d worn when you pulled out your knife and shuddered. “Sorry for scaring you.”

The merboy lightly swatted your arm. “Are you kidding? I would be dead if it weren’t for you, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened at the sound of your name.

“You remembered it.”

His dazzling smile grew a fraction wider. “Of course I remembered my saviour’s name. How could I forget?” The look he sent your way made your insides melt.

“Well, if you know my name, wouldn’t it be fair if I got to hear yours too?”

“Of course. The name’s Lance,” he said with a mock bow your way. A happy smile crept up on your lips. Lance.

When you got home that evening, you immediately raced up to your room and screamed into your pillow for a solid minute.

—–

For the next two weeks or so, that was how you spent your time. At the beginning of the afternoon you would perch yourself on your rock, and not long after Lance would show up and you’d talk. About anything and everything.

Every day when you woke up you had to force yourself to wait until after lunch to head off to the beach. If you could, you would spend all day with the merman. But your parents started to get a little suspicious, asking you where you went all afternoon and what you did. So you started taking books with you to make them think you spent your time on the beach reading.

And that was what you did today. You grabbed a random book from your shelf and set off, making sure that your mother saw the book before you slid out the door.

“You’re early,” you shouted as you hopped towards your usual boulder. Lance’s head already rested on his folded arms, waiting for you.

He sent you one of his trademark grins that made your stomach flutter, though you’d gotten pretty good at hiding it.

You’d already told yourself it wasn’t going to happen.

“So are you,” Lance pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you said as you sat down in front of him. “I managed to escape early today.”

Lance’s eyebrow crept towards his hairline. “Escape?”

You chuckled at his expression. “My parents are getting suspicious,” you clarified. “They don’t like not knowing where I am, so I took a book with me to reassure them.” You nodded towards the book in your lap.

Lance frowned. “A… book?”

You gasped, slapping your hands on the rock underneath you. You ignored the sharp jolt of pain that coursed up your arms. “Oh my god. Of course you don’t know what a book is.”

You laid it in front of his face. “Don’t touch it!” you yelped when Lance reached for it. He shot you a confused look, fingers suspended in the air. “It’s not supposed to get wet. Water is the one thing that will completely destroy a book.”

Of course, you knew you were being a little overdramatic. Lance’s fingers weren’t even that wet anymore, but still he jerked them back as if he’d gotten an electric shock. The worried look on his face made you snicker. You reached forwards, plucked the book from underneath his nose and opened it. “Here. I’ll read to you.”

You hadn’t even realised which book you’d taken with you, so you were pleasantly surprised to find the title of Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy tales and Stories. You searched in the index, trying to find a nice story when your gaze fell upon the title of your favourite fairy tale of all time.

With a grin, you flicked the pages to where the tale started. Lance had pulled himself up next to you and was now looking over your shoulder, eyes wide as he examined the thousands of letters printed on the page. You tried very, very hard not to concentrate on his warm breath fanning against your skin, nor the fact that his cheek was almost pressed up against yours. You failed miserably.

You felt your ears heat up. Not daring to turn your head to look at Lance, so close to your face, you cleared your throat and began; “The little mermaid…”

You didn’t notice it, because you were reading. But if you’d looked up, you would have seen that Lance’s eyes never left your face, and that he wore the smile of a man in love.

—–

Today, the waves were angry.

Grey clouds gathered above you, getting darker and denser by the minute. You heard the faint rumble of distant thunder.

The wind picked up steadily, sending locks of hair flying into your face. You knew it was stupid, that he most likely wasn’t even going to be there. Still, you armed yourself with a windbreaker and determination and marched out onto the beach.

As you approached the familiar cluster of boulders where you and Lance had shared so many intimate moments you started to feel cold drops of water on your cheeks. You ducked your head and cursed under your breath picking up your pace.

You just wanted to see him.

All you wanted was to see him.

Climbing onto the first rock, you had to be careful not to slip; the rain had started pouring out of the sky with an amazing force. The sea was angry, and the sky wept with her.

You struggled to keep your footing as you leapt from one boulder to the other. You spat out a lock of hair that had gotten in your mouth and wiped at your eyes. You squinted, peering at the water, but Lance’s shiny tail was nowhere to be found.

“Lance!” Your cry was lost to the waves. The roar of the skies drowned out every sound. You couldn’t even hear your own voice as you called for him over and over. “Lance!”

Your windbreaker was soaked. You were chilled to the bone, hugging yourself, trying to create some illusion of warmth. Your teeth chattered. Lance. Where was Lance?

The wind roared past your ears, ripped at your clothes, your hair. Its freezing cold fingers slapped you across the face, made your eyes tear up. They might have streamed down your cheeks, mixing themselves with the raindrops already staining your skin. You couldn’t feel it.

Waves crashed more violently against the rock you stood on. More than once they splashed over your feet, completely dousing your shoes. The biting cold pierced your skin, seeping deep into your bones. Somewhere deep into your mind you were surprised that the temperature was this low: it was a late summer’s afternoon. Only a few days ago you had spent almost the entire day at the beach, armed with a fan and the refreshing seawater to protect you from the scorching heat.

After what felt like ages of shivering, soaking wet and the wind biting at every bit of skin it could find, you gave up on seeing Lance today.

Spinning on your heels, you tried to smother the disappointment that rose up like bile in your throat. Maybe the sea was angry because you, a human, fell in love with one of her children.

It happened so fast that all you had time to do was suck in a breath before you fell prey to the angry, angry waves.

Dark. Darkness, and cold. Freezing cold, that wrapped around your heart and replaced your blood with ice. The waves ripped at your clothes with their clawed hands. It felt like they wanted to tear your very soul out of your body.

Up was down, down was up, right was left and left was right. Eyes still screwed shut, you tried desperately to follow your instincts and kick with your legs, but you only seemed to sink deeper, the dark depths pulling at you with tendrils for claws.

But you needed air. And you needed it fast. Your lungs started to ache from the lack of oxygen. You tried to open your eyes, tried to follow the air bubbles that swirled around you, but it was impossible to see where they broke the surface.

As you flailed wildly, you thought of the snowglobe you gave Lance during your first real meeting. Looking at the white bubbles of air dancing around you, teasingly tickling your skin, you couldn’t help but comparing them to the glitter inside the snowglobe, and the sea was the globe itself, being rattled by the sky.

But the dull ache in your chest had become a burning pain. A sliver of whiteish light shone through the water above you and you fixed all your hope on it. You gave one last desperate kick. The bubbles seemed to laugh at your feeble attempt to escape their grasp. Was this how helpless Lance had felt, trapped inside the net? You’d never know.

So you closed your eyes and gave in to your body’s plea for air.

Almost immediately you felt a pair of arms snake around your waist. Dizzy and only half conscious, you dismissed it as a pigment of your imagination. But then you started to float, away from the depths and towards the light.

When you broke through the sea’s surface, the cold air felt like a slap to the face and suddenly you were wide awake. Violent coughs racked your body, burning your throat and bringing tears to your eyes. You sucked in a huge gulp of air, relishing the feeling of oxygen in your lungs. Suddenly the arms around your waist felt a lot more real and you turned your head to see a pair of blue eyes worriedly scanning your face. Lance shouted something, but his voice fell silent to the roar of the waves. Reading his lips, though, you understood a frantic Are you okay?

You flung your arms around Lance’s neck and buried your face in the crook of his neck, nodding while still coughing furiously. His grip on your body tightened, and you felt a relieved sigh leave him. With your face still buried in his shoulder, Lance started to guide you back to the shore.

You crawled the last few feet onto the wet sand until you were at a safe distance from the angry waves, then you flopped down onto your back like a dead fish, breathing heavily. Lance dragged himself onto the beach next to you, chest also heaving.

You were silent for the following minutes, revelling in the fact that you didn’t drown, dragging your fingers across the sand beneath you. You shifted your gaze to the merman beside you. He shot you a glare.

“What,” Lance started, voice hoarse and an octave lower than usual, “were you thinking?” His voice cracked on the last word.

You flinched under his gaze, which was a mixture of worry, anger and disbelief.

“Sorry. I slipped,” you muttered as you sat up slowly, folding your arms around your knees.

Lance lowered his face into his hands. “You could have died, Y/N,” he said, voice muffled.

You scooted over to him, nudging his ribs. “But I didn’t. You saved me.”

You were surprised by the light tone of your voice, as if you didn’t just almost drown.

Lance shot you a stern look through his fingers. “Not funny.” A hiccup escaped his lips.

Your eyes widened. “Lance, are you crying?”

The shaking of his shoulders told you enough and your heart fell.

You shifted so that you sat in front of him, crossing your legs, and you gently peeled away his fingers from his eyes.

“Hey,” you said softly. Lance didn’t meet your eyes, but you noticed the tears clinging to his eyelashes. You gripped his hands. “I’m okay. We’re both okay.”

Lance pursed his lips in a tight line. “You could have died.”

“I didn’t. You saved me, Lance.” While you said it, you pressed his hands to your chest, hoping that your heartbeat would be enough to calm him down. Sure, it was a little fast, but that’s irrelevant. It seemed to do the trick, though, because Lance took a deep breath and finally looked you in the eye. His gaze was soft, and it made your heart do a little victory dance in your ribcage. You could only hope that Lance didn’t feel it.

“Don’t you ever, ever do that again, you hear me?” he said, but the threat was lost to the ghost of a smile that danced along his lips. You let your joined hands fall to your lap, breathing a laugh. “Got it.” You didn’t untangle your fingers, instead softly running your thumb over his hand, fingers lightly tracing the soft small scales there and staring into Lance’s eyes. He didn’t pull or look away either, which boosted your self-confidence a bit.

“I do appreciate that you came, despite the raging storm,” he said, a teasing edge to his voice. The fact that he could already joke about your near-death experience made you internally heave a relieved sigh. Even so, your smile faltered a bit. “Yeah. Summer break’s almost over, so I didn’t want to miss any of our time left together.”

At that, the easy smile that had graced Lance’s lips disappeared too, mirroring your expression. “You… you’re leaving?”

Your grip on his hands tightened a bit. “Not yet, but soon. I got a little over a week left, then school starts again.”

Neither of you said a word, fingers brushing over each other tentatively and reassuringly.

“When will I see you again?” Lance asked, a hesitant edge to his voice.

You looked up from your intertwined hands to see a faint blush dotting Lance’s cheeks.

“Well, I go to a boarding school. I stay there overnight and on weekends, but I’ll be home in the holidays,” you added. You ran your fingers through your hair, frantically racking your brain for days that you would be home.

You’d never really given it much thought, not wanting to think about what would happen if you weren’t able to come every day and talk to Lance. But now that you did, the thought of leaving Lance felt like an iron fist closing around your heart. You suddenly couldn’t breathe properly.

You looked at Lance, stared into his beautiful blue eyes, drinking in every detail, and when your heart crawled into your throat at the sight of him you knew you were a goner.

You were absolutely in love with him.

“But you’ll come, right? This… this isn’t goodbye, right?” Lance’s fingers twitched, like he wanted to grab your hand again but held himself back at the last moment. You Internally rolled your eyes and wrapped your hand around his once more.

“Of course I’ll come. If you’ll be here.”

He smiled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That smile knocked the air right out of your lungs. “Cool,” you squeaked. You hoped your hand wasn’t too disgustingly sweaty.

For a few minutes, you just sat there, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes, when you noticed Lance’s gaze flickering down every few seconds. You felt heat creeping up your neck as you realized he was looking at your lips. A breathy laugh escaped your mouth.

How many times had you not dreamt of kissing Lance? Way too many times, especially considering Lance didn’t love you like that. Or that was what you’d told yourself. But now you started to doubt it. Had you been so oblivious as to completely miss the signs that maybe, just maybe, Lance loved you too?

The next days, you frantically analyzed every movement, every facial expression, every look Lance sent your way. And every day you grew a little more sure that his touches lasted a little too long to be considered platonic, his looks a little too soft. His smiles a little too… loving.

On the last day, you brought a picnick. You avoided anything meaty or fishy, since Lance was a vegetarian, but made sure to bring lots of different foods. Lance seemed especially fond of cupcakes, anything that contained chocolate, and garlic knots. You spent longer with him than you usually would, but neither of you pointed it out. You knew that both of you wanted this afternoon to last forever.

Eventually, the sun started to set. You watched the sunset paint the sky in red, purple, and blue hues. Squinting against the sharp light, you turned your head to look at Lance, who sat beside you. Your arms were pressed together, and if you leaned over just a little, your lips would touch.

But you were a coward, so you didn’t.

Instead, you watched how the soft sunset light made the tips of Lance’s hair look like threads of gold, and made his skin almost glow.

The way he sat there, gazing out onto the ocean, he looked otherworldly, the scales scattered on his shoulders and face truly resembling the stars in the night sky, and your heart ached at the thought that this would be the last time you saw him for months.

But you also knew that you would get an immense scolding from your parents if you waited much longer to get home.

“Lance. I should go,” you whispered.

Lance pursed his lips in a tight line and grabbed your hand again. These last days, he’d been a lot touchier than usual, being in contact with you almost constantly. Not that you complained, of course.

“Yeah.”

But you didn’t move to get up.

“I don’t want to go.” You knew you sounded like a little child throwing a tantrum, but in the moment you didn’t care.

“I don’t want you to go either, but we’ll see each other again. Next holidays.” Lance sounded so sure, almost unbothered by the fact that you were about to leave for seven weeks, but his tight grip on your hand told you otherwise.

“Yeah.”

And then he threw his arms around you and pulled you in a hug, burying his face in your neck. “I’ll miss you.” His voice came out muffled, and suddenly you had to blink back tears. You hugged him back, gently running your fingers along the bare skin of his back, trying not to outright bawl. But then you felt Lance’s shoulders shake with silent sobs and you couldn’t hold back yours anymore.

After a while, you untangled yourself from the desperate embrace, your vision blurry with tears. Lance held on for a second longer, but then reluctantly pulled back. He didn’t meet your eyes. His cheeks were wet with salty tears. Before you knew it you reached for his face and brushed away the wetness with your thumb, cupping his cheek as you did so.

“Seven weeks,” you said, voice trembling. Lance took a deep breath.

“Seven weeks.”

And then a wave of bravery washed over you or something because next thing you knew you had closed the distance between you and placed your lips on his, ever so gently.

At the graze of your lips on his, Lance gave a surprised gasp, but then immediately relaxed into your touch. He wrapped one arm around your waist and used his other hand to cup your cheek, but by then you’d already pulled back, cheeks bright red. Lance chased your lips for a split second, before opening his eyes and shooting you an almost pleading look.

“Why’d you stop?”

A giggle escaped your mouth. You shifted so that you could sling your legs over his tail, then you grabbed his face again and pulled him towards you for another kiss, way more passionate and less careful than the last one.

The next minutes were spent kissing until you couldn’t breathe, and when you finally broke apart to gasp for air, Lance still stole a few fleeting kisses between breaths. You pressed your foreheads together, closing your eyes. “Lance, I really, really need to go.”

Lance pecked your lips one last time before gently helping you off him. “Seven weeks.” Your lower lip trembled and you bit your cheek to prevent the tears from falling. “Seven weeks.”

——-

A cool autumn breeze played with your hair as you tried not to flat-out sprint across the beach. It had only been seven weeks since you had last seen Lance, but it felt like so much longer. Excitement built in your chest, though it was laced with a hint of fear. What if he wasn’t there? What if he’d gotten tired of waiting? You wouldn’t blame him.

But that fear was smothered immediately when you caught sight of a familiar flash of blue-green, perched atop your favourite boulder. A huge grin spread across your features, and you broke into a run.

#lance x reader #mermaid!lance #lance mcclain x reader #vld x reader #voltron lance #vld lance #voltron fic #vld fic #voltron lance fic #vld lance fic #voltron lance x reader #vld lance x reader

maandags