arnoldmoyoyo

(Ariel/Jasmine femslash, if you will. Rated T, also on ao3)

(The text formatting is seriously wack, and I spent a long time trying to fix it lol, I'll give it another go later)

They’d found each other by accident. 

Jasmine had been living away from the palace for a while, in a place far from Agrabah, and she’d grown to love the coastline, the salty air and the glimmering ocean, stretching out with the promise of forever on the horizon. Ariel had been hiding in a cavern, away from her own palace, close to the land she yearned to belong to.

For Jasmine, that first look had been hypnotic. 

Aladdin had once told her that she was all warm sunsets and tumultuous sandstorms, and Jasmine had scoffed and told him find some words that actually meant something. She didn’t care for metaphors, and the desert sand made her freeze up whenever she so much as touched it. When Aladdin ran a finger down her arm and compared her skin to the rich gold of sand dunes, all she could think about was the way the sand had filled the glass and her lungs, slowly, so painfully - 

Beach sand is wet, it’s hardy, it sticks, and it gets everywhere, but not in your lungs, and Jasmine likes that. She likes that it’s tough. Not flimsy, like desert sand and Aladdin’s flowery words. She didn’t think that, three years on, she’d actually understand what he’d meant when he’d said all those things to her, because she cannot begin to describe Ariel without lapsing into poetry.

Arial is cold, colder than the sharp winter nights, even when she’s caressing Jasmine with her freezing hands, leaving damp imprints on her skin that never seem to grow warm again, even after she’s long gone. She tastes like salt, briny and biting, and her laugh clears Jasmine’s mind of all sense, filling her with the insatiable desire to fling herself into the ocean and immerse herself in the darkness with Ariel.

Ariel never lets her. Ariel never lets her touch the water when they’re together, always hauling herself up on the sand to see her. It’s dangerous, she says, her voice echoing in the cavern where Jasmine always goes to find her. You’d die. And I couldn’t live with myself if you did.

Maybe I want to die for you, says Jasmine, and Ariel stops laughing.

That’s the sirensong talking, she says. Don’t make me laugh anymore.

To that, Jasmine says nothing.

******