Queer (I don't like labels, I like who I like 🤷♀️)
Banners by: @cafekitsune and @cursed-carmine
Requests
I write for Arcane (haven’t in a LONG while). I don't really have rules to be honest with you, I don’t yuck peoples yum. We’re all here just to have fun. But if I do feel uncomfortable, I'm going to deny your requests.
Currently I've written for:
Viktor
Jayce
Silco
Caitlyn
Vander
Ekko
Steb
I'm more than willing to write for other Arcane characters but my brainrot is centered around these two (Jayce and Viktor).
I’m excited to see what ideas y'all have!
UPDATE
I NOW HAVE AN ARCANE MASTERLIST
I will be continuously updating it to the best of my abilities, after a fic/multiple fics are published, I'll add it to the masterlist.
UPDATE 2
Here’s an Anon ask regarding requests, check it out if you have any questions! Many topics were brought up, and I think this blurb will answer a majority of questions anyone may have :)
REQUEST QUESTIONS ANSWERED
UPDATE 3
I have 71 requests alongside 6 drafts at the moment for Arcane. I will try my best to get to them but, there’s a very good chance I won’t be able to though. Arcane is a phenomenal show but I’m not invested at the moment.
Main fixation at the moment: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, THAT I can write for 🥲😭
tags: intoxication (dub-con), targcest (you’re the daughter of Baelor, twin of Valarr), minor exhibitionism via teasing under the table, munch!daeron, pnv sex, hair pulling, choking, mentions of alcohol abuse/addiction, guilt, unprotected sex, reader’s looks not described but you do have hair
a/n: told y’all this show is like I’m ovulating 24/7, this beautiful sad man needs some love
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You honestly don’t know how you ended up here.
That’s a lie yes you do.
The dinner you were forced to attend with the rest of your family was torturous. It would’ve gone fine if not for Aerion. He just had to open his big stupid mouth and get Uncle Maekar upset. That’s his usual though, so you aren’t sure why you expected anything different.
The one upside was your cousin who was almost a year younger than you, Daeron. He hadn’t flinched at the noise, just continued to drink as if it were his last day, his dinner barely touched. He was a bit of a mess, but beautiful. His hair a mess of sandy blond waves, his eyes a gorgeous mixture of sky blue and amethyst. His lips quite red due to the wine.
You shouldn’t feel this way.
It was shown in family history the amount of relatives who intermarried, none of them happy. But you couldn’t help it.
You’ve known Daeron your whole life. He’s been by your side essentially since the beginning, alongside your older twin Valarr. The three of you were as thick as thieves growing up, until Daeron’s dreams started getting worse and worse. He turned to wine to block out the horrors, and whores to feel loved.
It took you a ridiculous amount of time to realize you weren’t just worried for Daeron. You were jealous. You wanted to be the pillar he leaned on when he needed support, the ear he could rant to and the shoulder he could cry on.
You also wanted to be the pussy he fucked when aroused.
This isn’t like you. You’re usually quite prim and proper but you too are getting deep into your own cups of wine.
So while Maekar and Aerion are arguing, and Baelor, Valarr, Matarys, Aegon, Daella, and Rhae are having a calm, yet loving conversation; you decide it’s time to strike. Casually you remove one of your flats without anyone noticing and bring your foot to Daeron’s ankle.
His brow furrows, but other than that there’s no reaction.
That won’t do.
Slowly but surely you drag your foot up Daeron’s leg until it reaches his thigh, where you’re massaging the inner muscle. That gets a reaction you want.
He sputters on his wine, choking a bit. He shoots you a bewildered look while you just lightly smile, sipping on your own wine. Daeron’s eyes narrow and darken a bit, jaw clenched. He’s no fool, and you’re making no mistakes.
He grips your ankle tightly, not allowing your foot to move any higher. Too bad for him you point your foot down and easily rub against the growing bulge in his breeches. He hisses at the contact, his thumb rubbing against your ankle. Your moment is broken by Maekar.
“For fuck sake Daeron, have some decorum. If you can’t even eat properly I suggest going to your chambers, try to sober up some hm?” He says sharply, a glare pointed towards his eldest son. Daeron winces, and lightly nods his head, “Ah, that sounds like a brilliant idea.”
Before he has the chance to leave you chime in, “I will escort him Uncle. If not we might find him at the Streets of Silk again.”
Maekar just sighs and waves the two of you off. You shoot a small look to your father and he just nods with a smile ghosting his face. With that you subtly put back on your shoe and escort your obnoxiously hot cousin to his chambers, arm in arm.
Hopefully no one saw the ridiculous bulge in his breeches.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Daeron’s chamber door slams open as he drags you inside, quickly closing and locking it he shoves you against the wood, a dark expression on his face, “What in the seven hells was that?! What are you playing at?”
You smile, looking into his pretty eyes without an ounce of regret, “I’m getting what I want.”
“And what’s that?”
“You.”
With that you surge forward, kissing Daeron fiercely. All you can taste is wine and Daeron. You wouldn’t mind losing yourself to this taste until the end of time.
Your hands slide up his trim waist, over his broad chest and up into his perpetually messy hair. Gripping it tightly you deepen the kiss.
Daeron leans into the kiss, his nose lightly pressing against your cheek as he whines. If that wasn’t the prettiest sound you ever heard. You want to hear it again.
Unfortunately you need air to breathe so you part from your cousin. The both of you panting from the passionate kiss. Daeron’s lips are red and swollen, his eyes a pool of black rather than its usual hue. He looks fucked out and you’ve barely started.
“We shouldn’t.” Daeron pleads, his voice deep. You scratch his scalp and play with pieces of his hair, “Why not?”
“It’s wrong.”
“I’ve wanted you to fuck me once I understood how lovely it was to play with the little pearl between my legs. I’ve heard of your dalliances at the brothels on the Streets of Silk.”
Daeron groans deep in his chest, before a cocky smirk appears on his lips, “We’re you jealous, dear cousin?”
You huff, “I won’t lie, I was a bit jealous. Why have a whores pussy when you can turn your cousin into your personal whore?”
It’s Daeron who initiates the kiss this time. Manhandling you towards his bed, slowly undressing you as you go. You were able to remove his doublet before he pushed you onto the bed. Only your light shift keeping your modesty.
“What a dirty mouth for such a proper princess. Tell me, has anyone touched you here?”
His fingers press up against your pussy, your small-clothes drenched in your slick. His fingers are a gentle tease, rubbing up and down. It shows his proficiency in pleasure. He might be a shit knight, but he’s a phenomenal lover. You hear it almost constantly.
Serving girls, maids, ladies of the court, and when you venture out into the world, the ladies down in silk all have the same thing to say. How generous, how attentive, how overwhelming Daeron can be. If only every man was like him, the ladies of the realm would be much happier.
All you can do is gasp, his fingers calloused and much larger than your own bring a whole new world of pleasure. It’s much better compared to your own.
You don’t realize you’ve spoken your thought aloud until Daeron groans. It’s deep from his chest and animalistic. If you had to assume what a dragon would sound like, it would be Daeron in this very moment.
He sinks his teeth into your neck, sucking harshly at the soft skin there. You can only pray the mark can be hidden, breaking your fast tomorrow will be incredibly awkward otherwise.
In an uncharacteristic show of strength, Daeron picks you up and puts you on his bed. He slides down until he reaches his goal. Being in between your pretty legs. He takes one look at your shift and tears it off your body. You gasp, trying to preserve some of your dignity. You’re unable to, Daeron’s got his hands on your knees; keeping your legs open and giving him the perfect view of your cunt.
She’s weeping, desperate for a touch. For some sort of relief. So Daeron obliges licking you from the bottom of your hole to the base of your clit. You grip his hair tightly, as if it were your life line. Daeron moans into your cunt, the painful sting of his hair being pulled a pleasure he did not know he had. The orgasms from his mouth alone had you seeing stars. When he introduced his fingers you almost stopped breathing. The constant gasping and moaning leaving you light headed.
In your bliss, you don’t notice Daeron removing his breeches. It isn’t until his lips are off your cunt do you open your eyes.
“Holy hell Daeron, I didn’t know you were a horse.”
The laugh that Daeron lets out is carefree, and loud. A sound you haven’t heard in years. It makes your cheeks heat up and a small smile grace your lips.
He positions himself, lining up his cock with your cunt. He slowly breeches and you hiss in pain, a light sting overcoming your body. It quickly becomes pleasure, Daeron prepared you well.
Before he can start pounding into you, a plea escapes you, “Let me be on top. Please. I want to please you as well.”
“You’re pleasing me plenty, believe me.”
“You know what I mean Daeron. You’ve pleasured me greatly, now it’s my turn. Teach me, please.” Your tone whiny and needy. Daeron whimpers, rolling to the side. His hands grip your hips tightly, ensuring you stay on his cock as he positions you upright.
What the hell have you gotten yourself into?
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Turns out horse riding has gifted you a skill you didn’t know you’d ever need.
You can ride damn well.
Your legs and core are strong from all the training you’ve done over the years, giving you amazing stamina. The force you’re using to ride Daeron is a bit ridiculous but it feels too damn good.
The slapping of your ass and thighs against Daeron’s own feels amazing, the slight sting alongside the overwhelming feeling of being filled is pure bliss. You’re gripping the headboard to help your balance, because if you fell now you’d want to die.
The sounds Daeron are making are beautiful. Desperate whines, moans, and gasps. He grasping you anywhere he’s able to. Your hips, your waist, your tits, your ass; he’s clinging to you as much as he can. As if you’re a dream.
You’re so close the edge, that when Daeron rubs your clit vigorously; you cum with a shout. Daeron grips your hips and fucks up into you, overstimulating you. You whine when he cums inside you, there’s so much.
You’ll definitely need moon tea when you break your fast tomorrow.
Before you can get off Daeron and lay next to him in exhaustion, the door to his chambers bursts open— and you freeze in terror.
“Seven hells Daeron, you can’t eat a meal with your family but you can fuck a whore as if you’ll be dead tomorrow. We can all hear you, think of the children.” The voice is mocking and sarcastic, and very familiar.
Holy hell you’ve been caught by Aerion. You’ve been caught fucking his older brother.
You plead to any god listening that Aerion hasn’t realized it’s you. All he can see is your back and your hair.
“Maybe I’ll have a go at her after you.”
“Unfortunately not, she’s mine dear brother.”
Daeron holds you close, folding you in half to hide you even better as he glares at his younger brother over your shoulder. Your cunt unintentionally squeezes at the possessiveness, and Daeron groans.
“Whatever, who wants a whores pussy anyway. I’d much prefer our lovely cousins.”
Daeron laughs when you squeak. You can feel Aerion’s confused questioning look when Daeron laughs even harder, the sound joyous and free. You want to hear it till the day you die.
“I’d like to see you try Aerion.”
“Trust me, I’ll succeed.”
With that Aerion leaves, and slams the door behind him. You slowly sit up, and run your hands through Daeron’s messy waves. You smile brightly at him and lean down, kissing him passionately.
“You’re such an asshole.” You state when you pull away, a few inches between the two of you. Daeron bites your lower lip lightly, “You love it.”
“Unfortunately you’re right.”
“Wear your hair down tomorrow. Let’s see if he catches on.”
“Daeron!”
“What?”
And with that you dismount your dragon and lay down, laying on his chest as you draw patterns on his pale skin. He kisses your temple and holds you close.
Maybe you can petition to your father to your betrothal. He’s been looking for a suitable match, and he’s never been able to say no to you.
After all, you’re a dragon as well, and you always get what you want; even when it’s forbidden.
For who can deny a dragon?
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Let me know how you liked it! I’ve been obsessed with Daeron and Valarr it’s not funny.
synopsis: when House Targaryen invites all the lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms to a tourney to celebrate another year of peace after the Blackfyre Rebellion, you go. Especially when they demand one member of each noble house to participate in said tourney. They never specified it had to be a son…
tags: specifically fem!reader as it won’t work otherwise, made up stark family members as I’m not certain of which ones are alive at this point of time, no physical descriptions except that you’re undeniably a stark. Everyone thinks you’re your brother. Reader has hair. Let me know if I missed anything.
A/N: Y’all I had this idea at 3:15am and had to get it out before I forgot, LOL hope y’all enjoy ❤️❤️ no beta reader and I wrote this on my phone 🥲
You aren’t a fan of the South.
It’s much too warm, smells like shit, and no one here is honest. They’re all vipers in a pit waiting to strike once they see a bought of weakness.
You and your family wouldn’t be here unless you were demanded, and you were.
House Targaryen has decided to have a feast and tourney to celebrate yet another year of peace after the Blackfyre Rebellion. In doing so, they’ve demanded all noble families to participate in said tourney.
This is where everything goes wrong.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
All that can be heard in the Stark Pavilion is the sound of hurried steps, no longer their usual graceful stride but stomps.
“Father are you out of your mind?! This would be considered treason, our heads hacked off from our shoulders for lying to the royal family!” You state, eyes wild in disbelief. Your family was all about honour, enough so that it’s well known a Stark never forgets an oath, or a slight.
Your father just sighs, rubbing his eyes with his hand, Edric was not meant to be the Lord of Winterfell. His brothers had died during the rebellion, from sickness, or from Death deciding it was their time. They were young, barely betrothed before their demise. They had no children.
Edric did. His son Jonnel, and you, his lovely daughter. His wife could not handle any more pregnancies; and he’d never wish to harm her. So he had you two, his beautiful, perfect children.
Except Jonnel was ill, he had broken his leg in a riding accident. The break is healing nicely— the maesters say he’ll be walking in no time. But it seems the cut on his leg got infected. It’s taking time but he’s getting better.
But he’s unable to participate in the tourney.
That’s where this nonsense is stemming from.
“You read the decree sweetling, every house must participate in this tourney. Our family is much smaller than before. We don’t have anyone else.”
You run your hands over your face and sigh in frustration, “Why don’t you join then?”
“I wish I could, but my body never fully recovered from the Rebellion. We need to show the strength and future of our House, not the past.”
A small sigh is heard, the table lightly rattles at the force you use to sit down, “They’re expecting Jonnel, Father. We petitioned him months ago. When the tourney was first announced. I… I don’t believe I can pretend to be him.”
“You’re around the same height, you’re just a touch shorter than him. No one will be able to tell you’re a woman when you wear armour and a helm.”
Your face scrunches up before you look away, “I do not want to disappoint you, or our House.” Your voice trails off, as soft as a calm winter’s breeze.
Edric reaches across the table, and grips your hand tightly, lovingly, “You could never disappoint me. You were taught how to be a lady from your Mother, and how to be a warrior from your Father. I never believed in making you weak. Unable to protect yourself. We won’t always be here, and I’d like to know that when I’m buried in the crypts; that my daughter can handle anything this wretched world throws at her.”
Your hand grips your father’s just as tightly, your eyes lightly watering as he continues on, “I know you’ll do us proud, and you’ll show how strong the North is. That even our women can beat the best men of the South.”
You giggle at that.
Guess you’re competing in the tourney after all.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
A majority of the Targaryen family wish to be anywhere else. Maekar looks like he’s swallowed a lemon whole, Baelor is twirling the rings on his fingers, Daeron is drunk, Valarr looks tired, Aerion is cracking walnuts with the end of his dagger, and Aegon looks like he wants to snag the dagger and shank his brother with it.
As each noble house is called, their petitioned family member strides out on their mount. Each as striking as the last. But one stands out.
The Stark petition is covered from head to toe in armour. Most of the other candidates you can see their face, their haughtiness, and pride. The Stark petition looks cold, serious, and a bit more intimidating than the rest.
That gets the families attention.
The first competition is the joust, and the Stark rider is doing phenomenally well. He’s agile, quick, and smart. The Tully rider almost knocks the Stark rider off their mount but he stays on, riding the horse sideways. He eventually knocks the Tully rider on their ass and some of the family cheer without meaning to.
As the younger generation watches enraptured, Baelor and Maekar are quietly conversing to one another.
“Who’s the Stark petition? They seem familiar.” Maekar grunts, his eyes narrowed on the black and silver armoured man. A gleaming direwolf pendent visible.
Baelor sighs, “Jonnel Stark. Eldest son of Edric Stark.”
“I remember that son of a bitch. He fought well during the rebellion. Took a stab in the gut meant for me. Surprised he’s still alive.”
“Maekar!”
“What? I’m not wrong.”
“No… you’re not. He also took an arrow in the shoulder for me. Would’ve hit me in the neck if he didn’t.”
Both brothers stop talking at that, reminiscing on their brother at arms. Before Maekar quietly adds, “Doesn’t he have a daughter, known as the Winter Rose of Winterfell?”
“Yes, she’s about Valarr’s age if I’m not mistaken.”
With that, they continue to watch the tourney.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The winners of the joust move onto archery, which you’re proficient at. You blow away the competition as if they weren’t even there. You’re surprised with how well you shot, even though you’re still wearing your helm. Archers are meant to have their head open to have optimal vision. You’re almost entirely closed off at the moment.
That gets the crowd even more excited.
“He’s doing phenomenally well.” Valarr points out, his head lightly resting on his hand as she observes the competition. Aerion grunts, “I should be down there, show them what a true dragon is capable of.”
Daeron huffs a laugh before taking a large swig of wine from his goblet, “Grandfather said we were only to watch.” Aerion gets riled up but is stopped by a sharp look from his father.
All that’s left is the melee, and House Targaryen can’t wait to see how Jonnel Stark fights.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Graceful is the only word they can use. He ducks and dodges like a river. Almost as if he were dancing. But his blows are powerful. Knowing exactly where to hit, how hard to hit, and where his opponent will strike next.
It’s as if he has foresight. They’re not surprised to see how well, and how desperately some of the candidates are fighting. The winner will gain the favour of House Targaryen. Depending on how well they’ll do, they might even join the personal guard of the family.
Jonnel Stark is the most promising of the lot.
He’s a few inches shorter than the rest of the competition, and more lean as well. Different to the usual Stark build. But he’s strong, and smart. A rare combination indeed.
He’s taken down the rest of the competition. Lannister, Arryn, Hightower, Tyrell, Martell. The list goes on. Once he’s the final man standing, the horns blow.
The tourney is over, and they have their winner.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You feel like you’re going to puke. You’ve never done so many competitions in a row. The small breaks in between not enough to get your breath back.
Yet you won.
Somehow the old gods must’ve heard your prayers to honour your family because you won.
You didn’t expect to win.
Now you have everyone’s attention on you. People are cheering and shouting your name. Chanting Stark like that’s the only word they know. You have almost the entire Targaryen Family staring you down. The youngest Targaryen Aegon hasn’t stopped cheering for you.
You might also shit yourself as you puke your guts up. Yet you can’t help but smile at the young boys happiness. All that changes after you hear,
“Come brave competitor. Remove your helm so that we may honour you properly.”
Unfortunately you are unable to deny a king.
And so, you remove your helm.
And the world goes quiet in an instance.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Valarr sharply inhales at the sight before him as the helm is removed. Hair much longer than he expects falls out of the helmet, and a face much lovelier than he imagined is seen by all.
Daeron chokes on his wine as one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen is revealed on the tourney grounds. Not as a spectator, but as a competitor. Maybe he’s had one too many cups of wine, maybe he’s seeing things. Looking around at the rest of his family and at some of the other onlookers it truly becomes clear to him.
Aerion’s gloating is halted to the back of his throat. A warrior just like him, and a woman too. The best of the lot. It feels like a dragon is purring in his chest. He’s never felt like this before. Its intoxicating, invigorating. He wants her, and the dragon always gets what he wants.
Aegon cannot stop cheering. He’s the only one now but he doesn’t care. It’s as if Rhaenys and Visenya have come to life again. He’s expecting to see Meraxes and Vhagar come down from the sky and emit a ground shaking roar.
Baelor looks stunned, and everything changes when Maekar opens his mouth.
“Does House Stark jest?! It’s treason to lie on the petitions!”
You firmly stand your ground, a sight no one was expecting to see, “No my Prince, it is no jest. My brother Jonnel is unable to fight; he suffered a leg break a while back and is still recovering. My Father was unable to participate due to the grievous injuries sustained in the rebellion. I was the only option left. Yet we knew no one would let a woman join, even though it was not specified on the letter. All that was stated was a member of each noble household was demanded to enter. Nothing about if I needed a cock or not.”
Baelor sighs at the snort Maekar unintentionally lets out, and the crowd relaxes at the sound. The Stark girl isn’t wrong, so they won’t be able to punish her.
“Unfortunately,” Baelor adds, “We cannot allow you to join as a personal guard to the royal family. It’s not allowed.”
“Even though Visenya is the whole reason the Kingsguard and the white cloaks of today exist?”
Baelor purses his lips when he hears his son try to cover a chuckle with a cough, he doesn’t succeed, “Unfortunately yes. Even though it’s incredibly hypocritical. But we can offer you one other benefit.”
“And that would be?”
“A betrothal to House Targaryen.”
Your eyes widen when the three younger princes immediately turn their heads to stare at you.
When you were younger you were once told nothing ever good happened when a Stark went South. You never believed it, until now.
Hey y’all I hope you enjoyed this! I’m more than willing to add to this story with head cannons and separate relationships! Sorry if the formatting is off or if there’s any grammar/spelling mistakes. I wrote this on my phone at 3-4AM LMAO - V ❤️
What is it with AKOTSK and why do I feel like IM CONSTANTLY OVULATING!?!?! I’m constantly checking Tumblr and AO3 for new fics like a fiend. If anyone has any request slide them my way!
P.S I do work most days of the week as a nurse so I won’t have a crazy amount of free time like before but… these bitches too damn fine to not freak
Funny growing up in the late 2000s and seeing constant "don't text and drive" warnings, PSAs telling us to put our phones down behind the wheel, wait until you're home to send that text, a phone-distracted driver is a deadly driver etc etc
Only for modern car manufacturers to be like "we made the car a phone :) now you have to text and drive to change the radio station :)"
synopsis: A Little Mermaid AU! (Amalgamation of 1989 and 2023) - Being a Princess of the Seven Seas is wonderful, fantastical, phenomenal. But, you long for much more. The wonderful world of above. The land. Humans and their amazing inventions of gadgets, gizmos, and thingamabobs. So when bright sparkly lights catch your attention from up above, you have to investigate. And you find two more things from above to adore, except they aren’t items. They’re humans.
warnings: uninformed decisions (becoming human via Ursula), love at first sight, prince!jayce, advisor!viktor, loopholes (fuck you Ursula), being married to Jayce and the both of you being secretly married to Viktor, angst, fluff, suggestiveness, Grammarly as my beta
genre: m/m/f
p.s. the little mermaid is one of my all time favourite Disney princess’ (as I've always wanted to be a mermaid) I also love Belle (she's most like me), Jasmine, Mulan, Tiana, etc. So I adore this request. Hope y'all like it! Go get your men reader, they want that fishussy LMAO
P.P.S I know I've been awol for a little bit. I've been working 5-6 days out of the week and holy hell it's been difficult. Also I'm ngl— I'm not hyperfixated on Arcane anymore. I still love it— it’s just not the center of my world anymore. I'll be writing all the reqs I have eventually (80+ 😳) but yeah… y'all deserve a mini update as to wtf is going on! Xoxo
Being a princess is a privilege. One that you try not to take for granted.
But your life is stifling. All the rules, the expectations, the box you're constantly put in. You can't be yourself. Your interests, hobbies, the things that make you YOU is not allowed.
So you have a hidden cave of treasures.
Full of gadgets, gizmos, a plenty Whoozits and whatsits galore, and way too many thingamabobs.
You don't know what any of them are, but you know they're from the human world. So you take as many of them as you can.
One night as you're appreciating your collection, you see a multitude of coloured lights sparkling above the water. You can't help but investigate, against your father's advisors' pleas and your best friend’s worry.
Your teal tail glimmers beautifully in the water, your white shell cup bra matches your pearls wonderfully. You swim desperately towards the ship, jumping the waterline like a graceful dolphin.
A rope catches your attention and you climb your way up the side of the ship. A ledge allows you to sit comfortably and a small cut-out allows you to glance into the ship's crew party.
A bunch of men are dancing and you see a dog barking, wiggling around trying to get affection. A masculine voice catches your attention.
“Blitzcrank! There you are boy! Easy— easy!” The man is tall, tan, and broad. He's gorgeous. With long dark hair, a shadow of hair on his jawline, and a simple outfit; he's so beautiful but in such a simple way it’s breath-stopping.
“Jayce, come here for a second. Blitz— down!”
Another voice catches your attention, dragging your gaze away from— from Jayce. His voice is accented. It sounds glorious. He's pretty. Fluffy brown hair, gold eyes, tall, lean, lithe. He's pale and looks a bit delicate compared to his counterpart. They couldn't be anymore different, but they're both gorgeous in their own way. You learn the other mans name as Jayce tells him to relax with a smile. A laugh encapsulates his voice.
Viktor. His name is Viktor.
In your daze you don't see Blitz come up to you and lick your face excitedly. You gasp and rub your face when Blitz runs away back towards the two men.
You want to meet them properly. You want to know them desperately. You want them.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You’re not sure what happened. One minute everything’s a blast. The next the ship is on fire.
People are leaping overboard. There's screaming, panic, and fear riddling the once-happy atmosphere.
Jayce nearly drowns saving Blitz.
Viktor nearly drowns due to the harsh current and getting knocked overboard from the lifeboat.
You save them both to the best of your abilities.
They're waterlogged, unconscious, and still as beautiful as ever. You alternate your gaze and touch between the two of them. Pushing the hair out of their face, tracing their features. Eventually, they wake up. Your humming dancing delicately in their ears.
Jayce cups your one hand tracing his cheekbone, Viktor's eyes peer in your direction. A hum escaped him as you softly brushed that stray curl out of his eyes.
Before they realize what's happening, the family's main advisor comes to their rescue, Blitz sniffs them both, gives them a kiss, and dives into the water; as if searching for something.
You hide in the rocks as you watch them go further inland back to the castle.
You got closer than you thought possible
You want to get even closer.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Your Father has destroyed your trove of treasures. Your passion, your hobby. The main thing that brought you joy.
Flounder looks distraught. Sebastian looks guilty. Your Father looked furious.
You don't see his expression drop and turn regretful as you cry into the destruction, your hands covering your face.
You cry for what seems like hours. Your chest hurts and your eyes sting. It isn't until Ursulas minions comfort you with fake sympathy do your tears cease.
The Sea Witch can give you what you desire.
So you go, against your better judgment.
Her lair is imposing. You want to leave but you ignore the dread in your stomach and keep pushing forward.
Ursula talks and talks, and talks. She mentions how she can give you what you want. She mentions becoming human permanently at the expense of never seeing your family again.
But there's a cost. Nothing is ever for free, y’know?
She wants your voice.
No more talking, singing, zip!
You’re lost. But Ursula adds your beauty and body language makes up for your silence. She heavily fixated on Jayce during her whole spiel.
You don't mention Viktor.
You want one upper hand against her.
(she never mentions you'll get your voice back if you make Jayce fall in love with you before the sunset in three days. You realize this after you sign the scroll.)
You sing desperately as your voice leaves and drifts away into a shell necklace. You get legs.
You lose the ability to breath. The only reason you make it to shore is due to the help of Flounder and Sebastion.
As you breach the waters surface with a big gulp of air, you know for a fact the Sea Witch isn't going to play fair.
And neither are you.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Sebastian laments over your dumb decision. Flounder tries to be reassuring and Scuttle makes you giggle. Your hand shoots to your throat and everyone quiets down at that.
Scuttle tries to bring the mood back as you attempt to make a dress out of the ship's sail from yesterday's wreck.
It’s not the most flattering, but it gets the job done.
Then you hear a familiar bark.
Blitz comes running at you full speed, barking joyously as he tries to get you to pet him. You scramble away, trying to get a safe distance between the two of you when you finally decide to perch on a rock.
Two familiar voices greet you, and you have to restrain yourself from whipping your head around to look at them.
Jayce and Viktor.
Oh they're even more handsome awake than they are knocked unconscious. You fiddle with your makeshift gown and hair in nervousness. You want to make a good impression.
The conversation (if you can even call it that) is hectic. You’ve never communicated non-verbally before in such an intense way. Yeah you’ve quirked a brow in smugness, pursed your lips in distaste, huffed in exasperation. But never a full blown conversation.
It somehow worked out. Jayce laughed a bit at your theatrics and Viktor just looked at the two of you with a fond curiosity.
You’ll get them both before the sunset on the third day.
You have no choice.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Surprisingly a lot can happen in just a few days! You went out on a carriage ride throughout the town, had a fancy dinner, saw their version of your little cave of wonders.
They're still pestering you on how you knew to smash the sea glass.
Maybe you'll be able to tell them.
One day.
You were so close to kissing Jayce as well. Viktor denied joining you two— having work that needed to be done.
It upset you a bit, but you understood. Flounder and Sebastian worked their magic to make the boat ride romantic. Especially since they hindered Scuttle and his… ehem attempts at singing.
Then the boat tipped over.
You'd think it was a fluke— until you saw Flotsam and Jetsam slithering away back into the sea.
You’ll just have to outsmart the sea witch… hopefully you’ll be able to.
The disgruntled look of exasperation on Viktor’s face when the two of you came back to the castle sopping wet made it worth it though.
He muttered under his breath about carelessness, getting sick, we had him worried. He may have berated us a bit, but it didn’t mask the concern in his eyes as he ushered us to get warmed up and change.
You were so close. You felt it in your bones.
You have one day left before you become Ursula’s— permanently.
There’s a gnawing feeling in your gut that it isn’t going to be as easy as you’d like.
Guess you'll just have to fight for your happily ever after.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Jayce is getting married.
He's getting married.
Married.
To Someone who isn't you. Isn't Viktor.
When you see him blankly state to the other heartbroken face you know is mirroring your own that he'll marry this… random girl before sunset today. Somethings off.
You want to run away and hide. To cry your heart out. But you don't.
Not yet.
Through tears in your eyes, you see a very familiar shell necklace. You almost don't want to believe it— but deep down you do.
That's no random girl.
It’s Ursula.
Wow. She must've really not thought you'd succeed, and now she's panicking over what she saw.
You dash off and into Viktor’s office. It’s cozy. Messy in all honestly— with books strewn everywhere, random parchment scattered about, some trinkets here and there.
Eventually, Viktor joins you. The two of you sit in silence for a moment before a faint whisper breaks the melancholic mood.
“Somethings wrong. Off if you will. I've known Jayce my whole life— and I've never seen that girl before. Jayce's eyes… there was a golden glow there I've never seen before.”
Viktor turns to you, his gaze serious. You feel like shivering at the intensity. Subconsciously you start to chew on your inner cheek, and wince when you bite a bit too hard.
“You know something. I know you do.”
You want to scream. You want to nod your head yes and explain it in any way you can. But you have to outsmart the sea witch— not play her games.
That damned contract.
It’s binding and worst of all; legal.
You need to think. Fast. Or the two of you may lose Jayce forever.
A blank parchment catches your eye and you all but leap to grab it. A quill follows suit.
The two handsome men tried to teach you to write in their format. But in two days? Your writing and grammar are shoddy at best. Hopefully, Viktor understands it.
As you write furiously, you don't see the fond smile directed your way. How the amber-eyed man scans you delicately and can't help but widen his smile at the warmth encapsulating his heart.
He's only known you for two days.
He feels like he's known you forever.
Viktor snaps back to reality at the sound of the quill being slammed into the desk. You whip around and shove the dried parchment into his chest.
| We need to go to the dok docks. I have (there's a big blot of ink. As if the quill hovered a moment too long as you thought of how to write it down) friends who can explain. Trust me. Please?|
Viktor has no other choice but to oblige. He nods his head and a beaming smile envelops his vision. You glomp him in a tight hug. You pull away for a second and sweetly peck him on the lips.
In that moment, the golden hue in Jayce’s eyes dims.
Hey… hey… how y’all doin?
It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything— I’m essentially at work 24/7 and when I get home all I really want to do is sleep 💀
they should make a version of socializing that doesn’t make you feel like you’re still the weird 12 year old kid that doesn’t know why she’s not normal like the other kids
