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cannibalcoyote · 2 years ago

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Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)

You're a famous rock star being interviewed about the beginning of your career to the current (includes mentions of Mick Ronson, David Bowie, and Mick Jagger):

"Ma'am, can you tell us a little bit about when you first met David Bowie?" The question was so sudden that I could only scrunch my eyebrows at it. I expected David to be brought up sometime, but I didn't expect the first question to be about him.

"Sure, let's see.... I can't remember the exact date, but my dear friend - Mick Ronson - had called me up saying some band was interested in having us as guitar players. I was hesitant because I enjoyed my job as an architect, but something pushed me to go with him; we hopped on the next train to London and did the audition." I explain, tilting my head up at the memories resurfacing. Ronno had been unsure as well, but I'm glad we went.

"We heard it wasn't a pleasant experience? What happened?" They emphasize 'wasn't', clearly looking for some juicy gossip on Bowie, and who am I to disappoint.

"Well, David had accepted Mick but rejected me, and Ronno originally turned down the offer because of that. He didn't even tell me the truth, just grabbed me by the arm and lugged me as well as the guitars out of the building. I knew it hadn't gone well because he had this angry glare in his eyes, which is strange, because if you've ever met him, then you'd know he's rather sweet, and has a very discerning disposition.

I asked what was wrong and he just said that they didn't want us. I knew he was lying, but I didn't want to argue with him. We spent the rest of the time wandering around London sightseeing." I state, folding my hands up in my lap as I look at the interviewer. I don't like looking back to the '70s, a lot of stuff happened, and I fear what they will bring up.

"What happened after that?" The interviewer continues hastily digging, wanting more information. I guess this person isn't going to quit until they get the full story.

"We had stopped by a restaurant and were having lunch. Ronno was saying we should catch the train home after, but we were interrupted by David. I don't know how he found us, I just remember being shocked when he started begging Ronno to join his band. I was also a little confused, and I remember saying, 'I thought you didn't want us?'

To which David responded, 'No, I want him, I just don't want you.' That line had run through my head the following 3 years until I realized how lucky I was David didn't want me." I say the last few sentences in a softer voice, not liking to relive that particular memory.

"He said what?!" The interviewer over exaggerates their movements, getting the audience laughing just as they had hoped. I laugh a little too, David saying something so rude does seem rather uncharacteristic.

"Yah, I was rather astonished as well because the words left him in such a casual way, as if choosing what bread to buy at the market." I say, gently chuckling at the visual of David buying bread in such a critical way.

"What- How, how did Mick react to that." Their eyes widen, the crowd quiets down as they await my answer.

"Oh, he almost punched David! But I grabbed him and pulled him aside, asking why he lied and all that stuff." I respond, remembering the beautiful anger that he so desperately wanted to act on.

"I bet the last thing you wanted was for him to join David's band, right?" The interviewer asks the question humorously.

"That's... Wrong actually. He was vehemently against playing in a band without me, this is mainly due to the fact that ever since we were 12, we've always played together. But, I wanted him to take the opportunity, to show the world his ability, and to be able to be a confident player without me." I explain in a gentle voice, vaguely thinking of how self-conscious he was at the time when it came to him playing guitar.

"You seem to be a really supportive friend, (Y/N)." The tone of their voice turns genuine, the whole conversation losing the humorous quality that had been sustained.

"I try to be, the last thing I want is for people's failings or regrets to be because of me." I smile, my relieved guilt ebbing away as I think of where he and I are now.

"As well as being supportive, you also seem to be fairly protective, at least, that's what I got when Mick told us the story of you traumatizing his high school bully! With that in mind, how did you feel when you learned he was earning next to nothing during the tour?" The beginning of the sentence sent the interviewer and audience into a bit of a laugh, I laugh as well at the memory of scaring off Ronno's bully.

The laughter lightly quiets down to a more serious tone at the end discussion.

"I was appalled! I hated myself for a while because of that, because I pushed him into this situation where he was barely getting paid. Which was the opposite of what I thought would happen, especially after their popularity went through the roof!"I exclaimed, my eyes widening as I relived the shock; the ebbing guilt rushing forward tenfold.

"I heard you went to some extreme measures in order to help him out, what exactly did you do?" The interviewer goes on, the questions digging into lesser known information.

"Well, I joined any band I could, I would try and get hired by restaurants for live music during nights, and then during the day I had a job as a waitress as well as working part time as a lyricist." I explain, just saying that makes me remember how tiring my schedule was back then.

"Now that's a lot to juggle, and I'm sure you have some great stories from those days, but we have a specific story. What happened during one of your many tiring nights of live music?" They ask, this question is sort of a bore to me, one I'm frequently asked to retell.

"I had been band hopping at the time, and was hired for a gig when I didn't have a supportive group, so I improvised. I played my guitar and was singing live, but before that I had recorded the drums and rhythm guitar parts for the songs I was scheduled to play, so when I got up there I just started the recording and played along.

This was for a club where they wanted rock, so it was heavier playing. It was during my guitar solo I noticed someone in the crowd." I divulged, deciding to add in some information I had never shared before.

"Ooh, is this when you met the Rolling Stones?!" Someone screams out, the crowd and interviewer looking in shock before they all burst out laughing at the person's eagerness.

"Yes... but I technically only met Mick Jagger that night. I wasn't a big fan of the Rolling Stones at the time, but I did have an appreciation for their music. I was actually playing one of their songs at the time. Either way, it just surprised me to see him." I continued after we had all calmed down.

"I know you joined their band after that, but can you tell us what exactly went down?" I squint slightly at my interviewer's vernacular before deciding to just answer them.

"I don't think I can tell you all the details, I worry J might get embarrassed! But, I can tell you that he met me backstage after I was done and asked me if I was available tomorrow to meet him at a recording studio. It was the weekend the next day, so I said yes, he wrote down the address and time on a piece of paper, handed it to me, then said goodbye and walked away." I state in a jovial tone, Jagger is one of my favorite people to talk about, because he loves to call immediately after the interview and schedule a meet up. He's strange like that.

"Sounds strange? How did you feel after that?" They looked intrigued, clearly wanting me to divulge the information that I withheld.

"I was shocked. The next day I went and met him and his band mates, then they started playing a song together and asked me to improv. I had never heard the song before, so I just started watching their movements and playing off of that; by the end they asked if I was interested in joining their band, which I clearly said yes to." I exclaim, the interviewer's face looking shocked by what I just said.

"Wow, that all sounds like it went really fast?"

"Oh it was, we had only been playing for 20 minutes when they all stopped and asked me to join. I was going to say no because I needed to make enough money to send to Ronno, but when they mentioned how much I would make weekly I immediately accepted." I reply, chuckling as I remember my astonishment.

"I know after joining the Stones, your career skyrocketed, your solo albums have done well, and you write all your own songs?" They continue, motioning to my newest album sitting on their desk.

"Yes, my solo albums have done surprisingly well, and I write my own songs. I do accept and sing other songs sometimes, but I usually have a story told throughout my albums, and throwing in a random song messes that up." I explained.

"Did you and Mick Ronson keep in contact during this?" They question, looking at me in interest.

"Of course! In the beginning, Ronno and I called every week at the least, and we would send letters sometimes too!" I state ecstatically before calming myself down.

"How did that work? He was touring at the time right?" They ask in a befuddled way.

"Yes he was, but he would tell me the places he would be as well as the dates that he would be there, and I would do the same with him. It was a little complicated, but it was worth it." I reply, my hands waving as I mimic us writing letters.

"Honestly though, what would you send him that couldn't be said over the phone?" They ask after a few moments, laughing as their mind runs.

"Photos, drawings, songs, food-"

"Photos?" I can hear what they're implying, and I can't help but squint my face in disgust. The crowd's laughter magnified at my reaction.

"Stop thinking like that, you all have dirty minds! I would take pictures of me and the band, as well as the places around me. I loved drawing as well, so I would send him some, as well as some songs that I thought he would enjoy playing. Lastly, I knew he was getting food, but I knew it wasn't food he was used to, so I would bake him something, or buy him local snacks and ship them off to the correct address." I explain, describing the different things I would send him.

"Did he ask you to do any of this?"

"No, Ronno was never a complainer, he hated telling people his issues. I was usually the exception, but he prefers telling me in person as compared to over the phone or in a letter. He did enjoy them though, and he would send me songs and pictures as well. I remember him snapping a picture of his drummer scarfing down some cookies I made!" I jubilantly state, smirking as I remember that the picture is still hanging on my fridge.

"You sent him all these lovely things, what did he send you?"

"I never asked for anything more than a letter or a phone call, but he would send me these extravagant songs, asking me how I thought they sounded and if I liked them. He would also send me drawings - he's not really an artist, but he knows I love the little doodles he does randomly, so he started sending them to me." I grin, knowing Ronni will be embarrassed by me sharing this information.

"Was this an easier time in your life or would you consider it one of the more stressful?" Ah, here it comes, the questions I am most dreading.

"The fame and fortune made my financial issues about none, but socially I felt isolated. I had played in popular bands before, but never like this, I was only consistently around my band mates and the people that worked for them. I only really talked with Jagger and Keith, and then Keith randomly started hating me, so I was down to only talking to Jagger." I reply almost subconsciously, my mind wanting to distance itself from these memories.

"What about Ronson? I thought you said you had weekly phone calls and sent letters?" They ask in confusion.

"We did, but about 3 months into that, David started complaining to Ronno that he spent too much time talking to me, and that he was ignoring his band mates for someone he might never see again." The answer in a short tone, clearly still holding resentment for David's decision.

"David said that?" They say in shock.

"Yah, he said it straight to Ronno's face. We obviously didn't stop talking, we kept calling and messaging each other, but it lessened after that to about 1 call every 2 weeks. They became much longer phone calls though, he said that David was limiting his amount of calls, but stated that David couldn't limit his time, so we would end up talking through the entire night!" I smile on glee, our weak form of rebellion still makes my heart warm.

"We've talked about Ronson and his band mates reactions, but how did your bandmates react?" They continue, going down a different avenue.

"Well, everyone basically made fun of me and said we were in love. They told me to stop being so desperate because I was probably annoying Ronno, that remark actually made me start to overthink a lot. I started worrying that I was annoying him, and that he didn't like talking to me anymore. I think that's around the time I began to develop anxiety, I was already depressed, so that just added on to my plate." I responded before realizing I was over sharing on live TV.

"Did you tell Ronson about that? How did he react?" They gratefully kept moving right along, not leaving an awkward silence.

"Well, I never actually told him about that, I think this is the first time he's hearing this." I smile in discomfort, and an uncertain smile on my face.

"Really? You never spoke to him about any of this?" They ask in surprise, slightly taken aback.

"My anxiety had me thinking that saying a single word to him was annoying him, so no, I didn't just start talking about this to him. It was a really dark spot for me, the person to pull me through was Jagger actually. He noticed my extensive isolation, how I stopped eating around others, how I stopped talking. He really pulled through for me, which is probably why I'm still friends with him." I voice solemnly, deciding that I might as well be honest about the situation since there is no going back now.

"I know this is a heavy topic for you, I have some more questions, but if you're uncomfortable we can move on." Wish you had said that earlier, but oh well.

"Ask away, we can just skip the ones I'm uncomfortable with." I smile in response.

"Alright, what did Mick do? Did he just pull you aside and talk to you?"

"No actually, he wrote a song and asked if I would listen to it." I responded.

"What?" Perhaps I should rephrase my vague response.

"That's honestly what he did. But he wrote a song with true meaning, it was rather dark, and it actually made me cry and begin to hyperventilate. We were alone, so he just rushed over and helped calm me down; he didn't ask me any questions until I had completely relaxed." I explained honestly.

"What did he say exactly?" They continue.

"He just apologized, asking if I wanted to talk. I said no at first, but then he asked why I've been distancing myself from him and the band, why all the songs I was writing were either dark or sad.

I told him the truth, that I was depressed, that I felt so intensely alone, and that I could no longer talk to Ronno because I was probably annoying him." An uncomfortable shiver ran up my spine, reliving those memories makes me feel nauseous.

"How did he react to that? I can't really picture him being the best at giving advice and comfort." She smiles in a joking way, attempting to lighten the conversation.

"He was lovely, he hugged me like a giant teddy bear and told me that he would help me through this. We talked for a while, he asked me why I thought I was annoying Ronno, and I told him what the band had said to me." I answer, feeling a small smile appear at the memory of Mick comforting me.

"What did he say to that?"

"He told me that they were a bunch of single idiots who were jealous, and that I shouldn't ruin a meaningful relationship with my best friend by believing the words of immature drug addicts." I respond, barely withholding my laughter as I watch everyone's reaction.

"He said that?!" They nearly yell, everyone laughing at my answer.

"Yes, and the next day he told them all off for belittling me. During our talk he spoke to me about my isolation, I explained that I did that when I was sad or feeling out of place, and he asked what he could do to make me feel like a part of the team. He honestly made me cry a couple of times from how caring he was. Then he started talking about heavier subjects, such as why I wasn't eating during lunch breaks, why I never accepted snacks, and why I was noticeably losing weight." I state, realizing that I was now broaching the subject of my eating disorder.

"That must've been tough." They state seriously.

"It was, I realized at that moment, how much I missed Ronno. I asked Jagger if he wanted me to leave the band since I was such a problem, but he told me to stop being an idiot. The next day I was given a few sheepish apologies from my band mates, and Jagger became a very prominent person in my life from that day on." I explained.

"That's good. So Mick Jagger stepping up to help you must've put him pretty high on your list of friends right?"

"Yes, I only realized how much he was doing for me when he barged into my room during a depressive episode and all but shoved the phone into my hand. I distinctly remember him telling me not to come out until tomorrow morning. When I held the phone up, he had actually dialed up Ronno, who sounded very tired and confused, as well as concerned." I smile, these are the memories that I hold onto dearly.

"Really? How did he know what number to call?"

"I assume he went snooping around my desk, in one of my drawers was a paper with dates, addresses, and numbers. It was one of the sweetest things anybody had ever done for me." The look on my face was genuine, that was honestly one of the sweetest things anyone has done for me.

"I know you two are still good friends, but was there ever the possibility of anything more?" Oh boy, I hate it when they try to talk about this subject.

"I did find him to be attractive if that's what you're asking, but I was never in love with him. He did ask me out on a date and I had said yes, the date was lovely, but we got caught in a crowd of fans and he was like how he normally is. It made me remember how many groupies I'd seen leaving his room, and how many women I've seen smothered over him at all times, and it scared me away from ever allowing myself to love him." I reply sincerely.

"Could there have been something? If you hadn't cut it off?" They continue to push the topic.

"There could've been something eventually - from the despondent look on his face when I said I didn't want a relationship, I think he wanted us to become something more. I don't regret what I did, I like the friendship I have with him, the last thing I wanted to do was ruin it with his promiscuity and my need for loyalty. We've moved on though, I kind of see him as the older brother I never had." I reply, explaining my reasoning and the aftermath.

"Well, since that ship has definitely sunk, what about Ronson? Was there ever anything there?" They just won't give up will they?

"No... Well, there was one time in high school when we thought we should try dating, but that was spurred on by our teenage inability to understand that we loved each other, but not in that way. We realized that that wasn't us when we tried to act like a couple and both noticed that it felt forced. Ever since then we've been best friends." I state.

"Gosh, you're shooting down all of the fan favorites. Are you interested in anyone? Anyone at all?" They sound slightly exasperated, maybe I should throw them a bone.

"Hmmm... Maybe." I smile, a mischievous glint surely in my eye.

"What do you mean maybe? You can't leave the fans hanging like that!" I can tell that I have their genuine attention now.

"Well, ever since David and I have become friends, I've been... slightly interested in him." I say, jumping straight into the deep end.

"..." The silence could almost be described as palpable, it almost makes me want to laugh at how everyone is stunned into silence.

"Well, don't just stare at me." I laugh lightly.

"... I'm sorry, just processing. Does David know this?" They ask in hurried confusion.

"Well, if he's watching like he said he would, then he knows now." I laughed once again, but this time it had an air of uncertainty to it.

"Don't tell me you just confessed over live TV, in an interview no less!" They say in shock, looking at me with wide eyes.

"What if he doesn't reciprocate!" Their response makes me shiver in discomfort at that possibility, but I respond in humor.

"Then I die of embarrassment, cut all ties, and become a hermit!" I state loudly.

"Oh don't do that Y/N! Only healthy reactions are allowed on this show." The crowd laughs lightly at our convo.

I'm about to respond, but my Motorola starts ringing in my bag. I look to the interviewer before quickly digging through my bag and pulling out the phone. I sheepishly glance at it, the audience having fallen silent at the interruption.

"Is it alright if I answer this? It might be important." I state, I know this sounds bad, but it could actually be important since I left my home and animals under the care of my neighbor.

"Of course, but you owe us one more question before you leave then." They respond, holding out their hand.

"Deal!" I agree, shaking their hand quickly.

"Hello, this is Y/N." I state in a professional tone, getting a funny look from the interviewer at my seriousness.

"Y/N darling!" I am thrown off by the happy and familiar tone.

"...David?!" I state in slight confusion, everyone seeming to lean in closer.

"...Yes?" He responds in the same tone, making fun of the way I responded.

"Why are you calling me? I'm in an interview." I explain, swiftly going back to my professional tone.

"Yes well, when someone confesses they are interested in dating you, I thought the first thing one should do is accept." He responds in a joking yet serious tone.

I'm silent for a few moments in surprise, did David just say he wants to date me too?

"Well, don't leave me without a response darling... Will you go on a date with me?" His serious and self assured tone dwindled slightly, I can hear his uncertainty.

"Yes." My response was short, it was rushed and all I could muster with my amount of shock.

"Good, I'll pick you up after the interview, so I'll see you in a few minutes." He stated before hanging up.

I can't contain the overjoyed smile that spreads across my face, most certainly accompanied by a warm blush. The audience snickers as I clumsily put my phone away, then they start laughing as the interviewer stares at me with a smug grin.

"Who was that?" They ask tauntingly.

"Ohhh... no one." I try to brush it off, but I know no one is believing.

"Really! Does this no one happen to be named David Bowie?" They continue.

I avert my eyes in embarrassment, the audience laughing even louder as I sheepishly nod my head.

#david bowie fanfic #david bowie x reader #david bowie imagine #david bowie fluff #david bowie #david bowie one shot #female insert #female reader #female writers #female author #famous reader #celebrity reader #interview #mick jagger #mick ronson #ziggy stardust #the rolling stones

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anne-chloe · 2 years ago

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Trust me | Three |

Jareth/Goblin King x F! Reader

Summary : As Sarah's next door neighbour, you're often Mrs Williams' last resort as a babysitter. Sarah had never liked this, but she can be extremely unreliable at times. One stormy night, Sarah grows frustrated with her baby brother and babysitter, resulting in saying a phrase that she later wants to take back. Now, you are stuck in The Goblin Kings realm with little hope to returning home again, unless Sarah can reach the castle and defeat Jareth in time.

The smell of flowers and greenery happened to be thick in the air. The scent wafted towards you from the only open doorway, enticing you forwards and into the unknown.

You were aware that everything was some sort of trick set up by Jareth, so you reminded yourself to remain cautious while heading forwards.

Inside the room lay a lot of flowers. You were fascinated to see that the ceiling was made entirely of glass, and that this room appeared to be a greenhouse. You wandered further in, sticking to the main path and refusing to stray, but you allowed yourself the opportunity to gaze at the gorgeous bundles and bunches in the room. Flowers of all sorts, roses, daisies, hydrangeas, peony's... thousands of flowers and all a rainbow of colours.

You paused in delight when you came across a patch of sunflowers. Sunflowers happened to be your favourite flower, and just the very sight of them brought comfort and joy. Your parents had planted them in the garden a few years ago to bring some colour to the house. In your eyes, it did more than just being colour to the house—it brought bee's, sunshine, happiness and an overall warmth that made you skip everywhere.

You reached your hand out the touch the sunflower, to assure it was real and not another trick that Jareth was playing on you. Sure enough, as the tips of your fingers brushed against the petals, you smiled truthfully at its realness.

But you couldn't linger over flowers for too long.

You pulled your hand back and turned on your heel, continuing onwards to the other side of the room, where you were starting to see the entrance to another room. You willed yourself to pick up the pace, wanting to find Tobey and leave as quickly as you could.

Your thoughts drifted to Sarah. Had she noticed yours and Tobey's absence at all? It seemed as though The Goblin King had made it so that she couldn't hear your yelling through the door. You didn't want to think of the possibility that Sarah had simply gone back to sleep, enjoying the quietness of the house.

What would happen when Mr and Mrs Williams returned home to find you and Tobey missing? Would Sarah explain that she had wished you both away? Would she feel even an ounce of guilt that she had condemned you to The Goblin Kings twisted games?

You didn't want to doubt that Sarah would have a change of heart. You wanted to believe that she'd make a wish for you and Tobey to come back. But that seemed extremely far fetched and unlikely as you navigated the castle deeper and deeper, finding yourself no closer to Tobey or an exit.

A stray sunflower caused you to stop before reaching the doorway. It lay on the ground, completely out of place. You stepped up to it, reaching down to pick it up by the stem, but something in your mind suddenly warned you against it.

You retracted your arm immediately and stood up straight, frowning down at the lonesome sunflower. As much as you desired to hold it and twirl it between your fingers, you felt as though something might befall you by doing so. It was obvious that Jareth had placed this for you to pick up; but why had he done so? It must be another trick.

You inhaled deeply and stepped over the flower before continuing through the doorway. If you had looked back, you would have seen the way the petals withered and curled into themselves.

You don't know what trick could have come from picking up the flower, but you didn't want to find out. For all you knew, another trap door was underneath it, and picking it up would only trigger the trap. You didn't want to risk being stuck in a hole again, where you might have no other choice but to ask for Jareth's help.

You decided that if you could withhold from asking for his help for as long as possible, then your chances of escaping would be much greater. You didn't trust Jareth, and asking for his help meant that you did.

Coming into an empty room, you paused directly in the centre. You looked at all four corners, your heart sinking into your stomach when you realised the doorway you had come from had now disappeared. But there was nothing inside the room. However, looking up, you saw a doorway higher than you could reach on your own.

Your brows furrowed together in focus, a frown deep on your face as you scanned the room again. And again. But nothing was there that could possibly help you. How were you supposed to reach the top?

Your answer came in the form of rumbling. The ground shook for a moment as stairs started to rise from the floor. You blinked rapidly at the appearance, and immediately you made a start for the stairs.

Just as you reached the top, where the doorway was, it suddenly closed off and reappeared in the ceiling above you. You gaped at the trickery, feeling betrayed at your hope being snatched so fast from you. Is this The Goblin King's game? To dangle hope in front of you and then snatch it away last second?

You steadied yourself against the wall and stretched your hand upwards, trying to touch the doorway. You were too short. So you jumped to try and grab the side, so you could attempt at pulling yourself up, but again that was a futile attempt.

Jareth then appeared standing normally in the doorway. You squinted as he came into view, wondering how he had somehow altered gravity in a way that made it possible for him to stand like that. He crouched down and leaned his hand through, offering for you to take it.

You stared at his hand for a beat, your own hand beginning to rise to take it. Just as your own fingers brushed against his, rumbling caught your attention as several more staircases started to rise from the floor, the walls and the ceiling. None of them directed to where you wanted to go, which was up, so you ignored them and continued to stand on tip-toes to grab Jareth's hand.

Then, like the doorway had done, at the last second, the stair case underneath you turned into a slope. You immediately lost your footing. A gasp left your throat as you felt yourself falling, then sliding down to the bottom of the staircase.

You rolled across the floor. Sitting up, you hissed at the throbbing in your bottom and your hands, which had taken the brunt of the fall. Then, you accusingly looked back to Jareth, who remained crouched in the doorway, his smirk wider than ever and a devious glint in his eyes.

You pushed yourself to stand and clenched your fists by your sides. "What was that for? I was accepting your help!" You whined, feeling deeply betrayed that he had, again, snatched away your hope at the very last second.

"You rejected my gift," Jareth pointed out smoothly.

His gift? Did he mean the sunflower?

Your bottom lip trembled slightly. "I thought it was another one of your tricks, so I ignored it," you explained, now feeling rather silly for thinking that a flower could set you back. But you couldn't cross it off as a possibility when everything was so incredibly odd.

Jareth shrugged. "And I decided to not help you here."

You couldn't believe how sensitive The Goblin King was. He was seriously offended that you'd ignored his flower, and because of that he was punishing you for it. It was clear that Jareth did not take being rejected very well.

You tried not to stamp your foot out of throwing a temper tantrum. This entire situation was incredibly against you. It was like Jareth was deliberately keeping you away from Tobey.

"Maybe if you had given me the sunflower yourself, I might have actually accepted it," you quipped back, growing frustrated with this entire conversation.

"Maybe if you trusted me, you wouldn't be stuck all the way down there," Jareth countered in a teasing voice.

Trust him? You felt like screaming at the implications. How could you possibly trust him when all he had done was tease and trick you? He had stolen you from your world and forced you into some sort of game, which you didn't want to play, and was now keeping Tobey away from you. You wanted to blame Sarah for all of this, but how could she have possibly known her wish would come true?

Jareth stood up, tapping his cane against the doorframe, a sinister smile playing his lips. "Oh, [Name]. My dear, we could be so great together, if only you'd open your heart and trust me."

Then, he swished his cloak and disappeared, leaving you to stew in your emotions. You wanted to scream loudly in frustration, but that would do no good and would probably give Jareth the amusement he wanted.

Instead, you huffed and tried to reassess the situation. Lots of stairs leading to nowhere, some of them upside down, others protruding from the walls... how would you even begin to go about climbing the staircases on the ceiling?

Then, as if answering your question, new doorways appeared at the top of each staircase. You gasped and made your way to the nearest one, peering in and being confused when it only lead back to the same room. However, you noticed that you were now standing on the staircase that came from the wall.

You didn't feel unsafe. It was like gravity had shifted and made it so you could stand there. If it weren't for the actual situation, you would have found it to be extremely cool, and you would have complimented The Goblin King for his creativity.

So you began rushing up the steps and entered another doorway, now finding yourself on the opposite side of the room, across from the actual doorway you wanted to be in. You frowned and stepped to the side, eyeing the staircase that had attached to this one. It would mean you'd have to somehow be upside down, and you couldn't see how you could make that happen.

Trust me.

Isn't that what Jareth had said?

Sure, he played lots of tricks on you to throw you off your course, but he'd never actually put you in danger. When you fell through that trap door, you had landed so softly that you wouldn't have even believed that you'd actually fallen. And when the staircase turned into a slope, the fall down hadn't hurt as much as it should have done, considering it was made of stone.

You peered over the side, eyeing the upside down staircase with great skeptism. You decided to sit down and dangle your legs over the sides, and you took a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes shut as you pushed yourself off the edge.

You expected a falling sensation to take over, but instead your feet came into immediate contact with something firm. You gulped, opening your eyes, now aware that you were standing upside down on the staircase.

So, if you now flipped the room, you could get to the bottom of the staircase and run to the other side, and all you'd have to do is slip into the doorway that was now on the floor.

You took cautious steps down, but once you assured yourself that you wouldn't suddenly fall up, you darted to the other side. You reached the doorway and stepped inside, watching as the walls shifted and altered to match your gravity.

You breathed a sigh of relief. You had taken a chance and decided to trust The Goblin King, which is exactly what he said you should do. In a way, didn't that mean he had helped you? Would that mean that you had accepted his help, or had you just taken his advice?

Either way, you had escaped that room at last, and now you could move on to the next, to face whatever the next obstacle may be.

And as you left the room behind, Jareth watched with great interest, his smile wider than ever at the fact that you had listened to him. And wasn't obedience always rewarded?

#fan fiction #labyrinth #the labyrinth #Jareth #the goblin king #goblin king #goblins #magical creatures #maze #x reader #reader insert #female reader #ballroom dancing #ballrooms #fantasy world #fantasy land #the underground #David Bowie

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livefastdrivefaster · 2 years ago

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I Love You! | LN4

Pairing: Lando x Fem!Reader

Summary: The early stages of your relationship with Lando. Meeting his friends and saying "I love you" for the first time! Fluff (also a bit of suggestive language).

Word count: 1.2k words

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You had been dating Lando officially for nearly a month and a half now, and he had decided it was the right time to introduce you to his friend group. One of Lando’s friends were hosting a birthday dinner at their flat in Monaco, and he had spent a week convincing you that you needed to come. You felt uncomfortable at the thought of inserting yourself into his group, but you were new to Monaco, and would appreciate meeting more people your age there. You had met through a mutual friend, who would be at dinner tonight, but you had never gotten to know their extended circle.

You didn’t live in the same apartment, but you lived close enough where you decided to finish getting ready at your boyfriend’s penthouse and travel to his friend’s party together. You were in Lando’s bathroom, struggling to put your earrings on when you heard him call your name from the kitchen.

“Y/N, are you almost ready to go love?” He calls.

“Yeah!” You respond enthusiastically, cautiously treading out of the bathroom, still trying to put your earring on.

The backing finally clicks when you come into Lando’s line of sight, and you feel a blush creeping up on your cheeks as he unashamedly looks you up and down.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he says with a low voice, pulling you into him “Maybe we should just show up a little later?” He asks suggestively, placing a gentle kiss on your collarbone. You seriously didn’t mind the idea, considering how good he looked himself right now.

“I can’t let us be late to the first time I’m meeting your friends, Lando.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Why do you have to be so sensible.” He sighs into your neck.

“One of us needs to be. Come on, the Uber is outside.” You say, tentatively pulling away from him. He takes your hand in his and dramatically marches forward, guiding you out the door.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The two of you were stood outside the address, bickering about who should knock on the door. You desperately didn’t want to, but Lando thought it would be good to build your confidence before meeting his friends.

“Please Lando, just do it for me.” You plead, giving him a laughable attempt at puppy eyes.

“Be a brave girl.” Lando says, lightly pushing you towards the door. You sigh loudly, raising your arm to the door.

“I am so getting payback for this.” You say threateningly, which is only met with laughter from Lando. Disappointed he saw right through your empty threat, you knock twice at the door.

“Coming!” A voice calls from the inside, and you hear footsteps approaching the door. You take a step back, letting Lando’s arm circle around your waist.

Suddenly, the door swings open and you are greeted with the face of the birthday girl.

“Y/N!” she exclaims excitedly, “You are even more gorgeous in person, come on in.” She says, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I’m here too.” Lando says sarcastically.

“This isn’t about you.” She quips back, leading you inside the flat. Lando rolls his eyes, following the two of you into the main party area.

Your arrival brings about cheers from the group, as about five people offer you a drink at once, desperate to get to know Lando’s new and elusive girl. Eventually, the energy of the party shifted into a low-key vibe, with people congregating on the couches discussing their favourite movies.

“I’ve heard enough about the Wolf of Wall Street,” a girl, whose name you find out later to be Ria, exclaims, “what about your favourite movie scenes in particular?”

“Jordan Belfort’s big party in the Wolf of Wall Street.” A guy calls out jokingly. A few groans go around the room.

“That scene in ‘Perks of Being a Wallflower’ where Emma Watson hangs out of the car in the tunnel, listening to David Bowie” You cut in, followed by awkward fumbling with your drink.

A symphony of agreement rises around the room, particularly from the girls in the group. You settle back into your seat, trying to fight a proud smile from growing on your face, happy that your comment went down well. Lando squeezed your side lightly, giving you a silent congratulations.

The conversation flowed well through the rest of the evening, and you involved yourself more, easily fitting into the lively group dynamic. Eventually, the party wrapped up, and you and Lando decided to Uber back to his, potentially to fulfil his request from earlier.

“How did that go, do you think?” You asked him, placing your head on his shoulder.

“They loved you.” He said simply.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I think you’re pretty great. And they trust my judgement.” You smiled softly at this, nestling your head deeper into the crook of his neck.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You and Lando had just finished celebrating your six-month anniversary at one of Monaco’s nicest restaurants, when you both climbed into his convertible McLaren to drive home.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, Lando’s free hand placed on your thigh. Suddenly, Lando takes an unexpected turn, leading you away from your apartment.

“Lando this isn’t the way back to mine.” You say, looking at him confused. His eyes remained focused on the road ahead, but his mouth widened into a cheeky grin.

“I know, I thought we would go the scenic route tonight.” He said casually, as if it was such an obvious thing he was doing. He takes his hand off your thigh to press a button on his centre console, causing the roof above you to open, revealing the midnight blue sky above the city.

“Let’s hope I timed this right.” Lando says to himself, and you again look at him confusedly. The song playing through the car’s sound system ends, and you hear the familiar opening notes to “Heroes” by David Bowie coming through the speakers. Your eyes flick to the road ahead of you, and you realise you’re heading towards the Monaco tunnels.

“Lando…” Your voice trails off, touched at the thoughtfulness of his gesture.

“Save the thanks for when we get home. Hop up baby, we are nearly at the tunnel.” He smiles, patting the area of the car behind your head.

You perch yourself on the flat top behind your seat, enjoying the cool air wrapping around your body.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You ask Lando cautiously.

“Of course, love. There aren’t cameras through here, and you know I will drive carefully.” You feel like a rebel, testing the law a bit. As the music swells into the chorus, you raise your arms to your side, recreating the iconic scene you talked about so long ago.

Your eyes flicker between being open and shut, wanting to take in the most of the moment, but also not daring to look away from Lando for too long. Watching his curls being tousled by the wind, you instinctively lean down to him.

“I love you!” You yell, the words leaving your mouth before you had time to stop them. Lando looks at you through the rear-view mirror, beaming a wide smile.

“I love you more!”

#ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando4 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris f1

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cosmo-craftin · 1 year ago

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Hey Night at Museum fandom you still alive?

If so do any of you read reader fics?

Cause I’m thinking of dropping an insert reader crack taken seriously, shenanigan story. Not gonna have a lot of romance but definitely adventures of an average over anxious night guard absolutely BSing their way through securing a paycheck.

Here’s a sneak peak,

———————————-

You lowered your mug from of tea from your face and turned around. Watching as the neat craftsmanship historical miniatures suddenly move before your very eyes and functioning like a small town. Moving hauntingly in way that could only be described as…well nothing, nothing at all.

Clearly there was something wrong with the amount of sleep you were getting, maybe one to many all-nighters. To much studying and not enough self care. You know what, Cristy was right those brownies were not quite so cosmic brownies. That Thomas the sketchy, suspicious, homie, who lingered in the alleyway behind the J building probably was a drug dealer. That his brownies were laced with malicious intent, suspicious powder sugar and cosmic anomalies not joy. Because clearly this was all one fever dream, clearly you were smelling colors and seeing stars. Because clearly there was no way the itty bitty little cowboy in front of you just started walking towards you.

“Oh hey! You’re the newbie Gigantor told us bout” Glass shattered.

It was going to be a loooong night.

——————

“Larry, come get me I’m scared” you said screaming in absolute despair into the phone, from your spot underneath the desk. “The miniatures are scrambling everywhere, Theodore Rosevelvet is making out with Sacagawea, there a civil brawl in the bathroom and I swear I just a lion shredding up the trash cans. And now there’s a T. rex! A FREAKING REXSOURES MONSTROSITY!”

“Calm down just throw the bone to Rexy, you’ll be fine. I know you’re scared right now, I was to my first time too but everything will be fine. I’ll be there in five minutes if you’re really truly struggling. You don’t have anything to worry about anyways, she don’t bite.”

Rexy? the two ton bone bodied dinosaur above the desk, the fudge muffin about to diy some ripped jeans onto your uniform, HAH, “Yes it do!”

——————-

“Sooo? I know what happened last night was a little odd. But I’ve read the manual properly now, yaknow terms, conditions, and everything. I’m pretty sure I can figure this out now.”

“Ahkmenrah said you hid in the bathroom stall, crying and listening to David Bowie for the rest of the shift.”

“Listen buddy, between you me. You know damn well you would be in tears, if you had to fight off a pack of wild animals simply to be get that of minimum wage.”

“I was not in fact in tears.”

“Well fuck you Larry.”

#night at the museum #natm #natm fandom #natm jedediah #natm larry #ahkmenrah x reader #natm sacagawea #natm teddy roosevelt #natm fanfiction #fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #y/n #writing #writing help

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harksness · 10 months ago

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Agatha Reader Insert Blurb (SFW)

Ok idk how many ppl are gonna read this but pls I would love for this to be a bit of a discussion for how people would apply this to themselves/their little pleasures.

Agatha is really good at staying up to date with things as the times change. She needs to make sure she fits in so she doesn't rouse any suspicion, right? So she has to, for survival. Fashion trends, politics, current events, and so on she's on top of.. But she's not good at staying up to date with music. She's horrible about it. You needed to explain everyone from Nirvana to Britney Spears to Billie Eilish to her.

When the 70s hit, she fell in love with that era and hasn't left it. The Cure, Elton John, David Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, (heavy on Fleetwood Mac), and she just hasn't really kept up since. She's listened to Rumors on repeat since it was released. (Just from vibes alone I feel like she'd love Dreams and probably crushed on Stevie Nicks.)

When you two start dating and you realize this, you think it's so cute. You listen to all of her favorite albums and songs, and love to listen to her stories from the concerts she's gone to. She ends up being a bit of a music dork, she loved going to concerts back in the day but as her favorite artists grew older and slowed down with touring she stopped going to shows.

So you introduce her to more music to bring that love back out of her. (Going off of my favorite musicians) she loves Weezer (Only in Dreams!!), Green Day (LAST NIGHT ON EARTH??), Bastille (Icarus, The Anchor, Warmth??) Chappell Roan, and unexpectedly, Britney Spears!! Also specifically Dragula by Rob Zombie. ("Dig through the ditches and burn through the witches" it should be her badass theme song lmao) (Feel free to add on in the comments w your favorite artists + songs you think she'd like!!)

She'll always go back to her old music taste, but you do notice her peppering in some songs you introduced to her and humming Pink Pony Club to herself.

You bought general admissions tickets to see your favorite artist and surprised her with them. And she's so excited, a wide smile on her face and eyes scrunched up in the cutest way. She looks up the set list to make sure she knows every song.

Because even though she's really good at staying up to date with most things, some stuff slips through the cracks. Or she doesn't have time for all of it. But it's easy for you to see just how much she enjoys discovering things she's missed out on, curiosity seeping through her voice as her wondering eyes light up with interest and it just really tugs on your heart. So you're always trying to find little things she doesn't know about yet.

Poptarts? She's like tf are those let me try them now. She loves the cookies and cream flavor but can only eat one because she thinks they're too sugary. You show her your old DS from when you were young? She gets addicted to Animal Crossing, Agnes is her favorite villager and she loves having you sit and watch her play. Tik Tok? She gets weirdly into Reddit stories. She tries to deny it and calls them stupid while she goes to find part two. Then continues to gossip about the story with you. Then points out everything that makes it obviously fake. (Add any more in the comments that relate to you or you'd just see from her!)

I just feel like Agatha has devoted over three hundred years to magic and big, huge things and adventures that she never gets to really indulge in the little pleasures in life. She has a lot of them to catch up on. While she tries to deny having any interest in it, she really does love when you show her the fun, pointless little things she's missed out on and just a sweet way the two of you really bond.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness/reader #agatha harkness reader insert #agatha harkness #agatha all along #kathryn hahn #harksness #wlw fanfiction

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pjisskullourful · 2 months ago

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𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℝ𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕖

🌅𝕘𝕒𝕪 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙

🌈[rainbow family part8] [complete series]

🔚 Damiano × Ethan × reader

° Damiano David/Ethan Torchio/female reader insert + their OC babies: Cosmo, Sylvia, Marsha, Bowie & Nikkie

° slice of life fluff about starting the day with your two boyfriends & five children

wordcount:: 2,172

° this is basically the throuples happily ever after moment. when i first had the idea to extend the series into parenthood for them, this was the image that i had in my mind& i thought it was about time i put it on a page. i hope yall enjoy& would love to know if you can figure out the significance of the new baby's name

There was something strange about being the last person in your home to get up. You weren’t used to it happening, especially not on a weekday. You felt like you were out of step with the rest of your family.

Your boyfriends had kept their word, letting you gain a couple of hours of sleep after a very restless night with your youngest child.

Nikkie had been exceptionally fussy last night. Which you had put yourself in charge of resolving, because why should all three of you be sleep-deprived? The 18-month-old had gone to sleep without issue at her typical bedtime. But something had caused her to wake up wailing around one o’clock.

You hadn't been able to identify any immediate causes, so you had run through all of the tricks you had, from the regular to the specialty. You had eventually gotten her to settle, quietening down as you read her books. But she had wanted you to read almost every single book in her little library. She had sat in her crib, gurgling and smiling as she would flip her book back to the beginning. You had maintained your patience, just grateful that she had stopped crying.

Her energy had finally run out before sunrise. You had fallen asleep in the same moment that you had reached your bed.

Even though the extra rest had been beneficial, helping you to feel less like a zombie lady. You also felt some guilt that you weren’t pulling your weight with the morning routine. You could easily imagine the chaos that your five kids were posing, so you walked quickly, picking up speed as you descended the stairs. You were hearing all of the activity before you even reached the dining room.

At the bottom of the staircase, movement in the living room caught your eye. Instead of walking straight past, you looked in. Sylvia was sitting in front of the coffee table, the surface of which was almost entirely covered by colourful crafting supplies.

As you approached, you noted that the six-year-old was by herself. This didn’t seem to matter to her. With how much she was concentrating on her task, it was possible that she hadn’t noticed her lack of company.

“Hey Miss Missy…” You said, close enough to see that she was working with blue paper, decorating it. “What are you making?”

She looked up at you, showing you a smile instantly. “It’s for Miriana. It’s her birthday soon.”

“I thought you and Marshie already made her a card.” You said.

She made a face and reached out for a glitter pen. “Marsha monopolied that card, this one is my style.”

You paused, furrowing your bow. Then you realised that she had meant monopolised. It wasn’t a very kind thing to say, but you knew both of the twins should be present for a discussion of this.

“Okay, do you need any help with this one?” You asked.

“Uh-uh, Mama.” She replied without taking her eyes off of the sparkly pattern she was creating.

After confirming that she had eaten breakfast, you left her to complete the task on her own. You continued towards the source of the consistent noise - the combined kitchen and dining room. As you got closer, you could distinguish one voice from another. This somewhat helped you prepare yourself for the scene you were about to walk into.

Ethan was seated at the dining table. On his lap was Bowie, your youngest son looking like he was still half-asleep. There were a few spots on his face smeared with food and there was the potential for this to be added to: his plastic plate had more spoonfuls of food lying on it. Neither he nor your boyfriend seemed very interested in this currently.

Ehtna’s attention was entirely dedicated to Marsha, who stood in front of him. She was facing away from him, doing a good job of holding still after so many years of practice. He was working her long hair into two identical plaits. His fingers moved with precision while she was talking, seemingly in the middle of a story.

Her voice was accompanied by Cosmo’s. Your eldest child was speaking slowly, then you realised he was offering one letter at a time. Sitting at the extended counter, he was running through his spelling homework, under the supervision of Damiano.

Damiano stood on the opposite side of the bench and you wondered if he had left the kitchen at all ever since preparing breakfast for your brood. But he didn’t look annoyed by this, relaxed and in his element instead.

Next to the stool where Cosmo sat was the highchair, currently occupied. Nikkie was safely secured to this spot, some food on the attached tray. Damiano kept his eye on the infant as well.

Surveying this scene, you didn’t feel any need to rush in and find the spot where you should be helping. Because it didn’t look like your assistance was needed right now. You realised that your perceptions (and assumptions) from the other room had been incorrect - this wasn’t chaos. It only seemed that way.

In actuality, everything was in balance and there were no fires for you to put out. Somehow you had picked the right partners, and things were generally under the control of your boyfriends.

Damiano glanced down at his phone, which was held by his hip so that the screen could be concealed from Cosmo. For a moment his brow was furrowed, then he smiled. “You nailed it, Moe. I had to double-check that one ‘cause I’m pretty sure I’ve never spelt that word in my entire life. But you got it perfect, well done.”

Cosmo seemingly didn’t care much for this compliment. “It’s not even the hardest word on the list.”

“Well congratulations, you’re much smarter than your old man is.” Damiano told him, before he looked at Nikkie. “Excuse me, little miss…” She started to giggle as he played at being stern with her, far over-exaggerating his tone. “I made you that toast to eat, not to just make out with the bread and suck the peanut butter off. Eat.”

She kept laughing - you and your boyfriends were in agreement that she was getting cheekier with each new day. You could see the mess around her mouth. She was holding a portion of the toast up close to her face. Even though you could see her mouth moving, the piece of toast wasn’t getting any smaller.

Damiano walked around the bench, going over to her side. “How about we try eating it, hm? I know you know how to do that.” She looked up at him, strands of her hair falling back from her face. He picked up a section of the toast and tore it into a smaller piece, which he offered to the baby. “Are you ready for the next word, Mister Moe?”

“Uh-huh.”

You checked on Ethan’s progress now, taking a few steps in this direction. He was almost through with the second plait, some bobby pins were held between his lips.

“Good morning Mama.” Marsha greeted you as you got up to the table, pulling out a chair for yourself.

“Hi, darling.” You said. “Baby Bowie, why aren’t you eating your yummy breakfast?”

Your son just looked at you with that dreary expression, so Ethan answered. “He wants to watch cartoons, but Dada needs him to finish eating first.”

Bowie huffed unhappily. You sat down and pulled the plastic plate towards yourself, considering the food that hadn’t been touched by the three-year-old. There was sliced up strawberries, whole grain toast with some jam spread over it and the whites of a hard boiled egg. You picked up the bright spoon and your belly gave a little expectant grumble.

“Well maybe I can help him clear his plate.” You said, scooping up a small portion of the toast.

Ethan tied off Marsha’s second plait, then put his available hands to Bowie’s sides. He lifted your son from his lap, potentially he already knew how you were planning to tackle this. Bowie’s eyes were on you as he got his feet on the ground, starting to walk toward you, around Marsha.

“Mmm!” You hummed loudly, exaggerating your response to the toast that you were chewing.

Once he was close enough, he put his hands to your legs so that he could start to pull himself up. You helped, easily lifting his tiny body. He faced you, his wide eyes watching as you had another bite of his food.

“Mmn, Papa made such a good breakfast today.” You declared. “Oh, where’s your share, Bowie?”

He had started to smile, looking more engaged. He pointed at the plate. “There.”

“Oops, Mama made a really silly mistake, huh?” You said and you offered the spoon to him. “Quick, you should eat this up before I forget again.”

And it worked, he scooped up some of the strawberries. You relaxed as you watched bhim chewing.

“How are you doing?” Ethan asked. He was securing back Marsha’s unruly flyaways with the bobby pins.

“I think I’m alright. I’ll just need extra coffee today.” You said before getting distracted by Bowie pressing a piece of strawberry to your lower lip. “Oh, thank you, sweetie.”

“Okay, I think you’re done.” Ethan told Marsha, his hands leaving her hair now. “Do you wanna go check it in your mirror?”

Marsha was heading out of the room before he had finished talking. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Tell your sister that it’s time for both of you to get dressed for school.” He called after her.

He had to just hope that she had heard him, he propped his elbow up on the table and rested his cheek against this elevated fist. You held one of your hands to Bowie’s back as you kept track of his progress.

“Are you gonna rest today, or do you have to go into the studio?” Ethan asked you.

“I have to go in. We’re having new cleaners come in to assess the space and give specific quotes, and I wanna be there to hear all the details for myself. I have to maintain my reputation of being the most hands-on manager ever, you know?” You said before you received more toast from Bowie.

You were talking about the dance studio that you owned and ran. It was something that you had hoped to achieve for a long time, wanting to establish a place as nurturing as the studio you and your sister had grown up attending, which had shut more than a decade ago.

You had pictured yourself getting to this dream once all of your children were grown up. But your boyfriends had surprised you by purchasing the ideal space.

They helped you to find the right people to turn this dream into a reality, and for almost two years, it had been working out. You got to build a community. You were dancing more often than you ever had in your whole life. You were exploring the creativity of choreographing like never before. The whole thing gave you an almost unreal sense of accomplishment.

“Great work, baby.” You said when you noticed Bowie was eating his last mouthful. He had even come around on the egg whites, kids were weird like that. You helped him down from your lap. “You can go watch your cartoons now.”

“Moe, how about you help your brother with the TV? And you can get dressed for school after that.” Damiano suggested.

“Okay, Pop.” Cosmo said.

As your sons left the room, Damiano lifted Nikkie out of her highchair. You hadn’t noticed it being initiated, but you found yourself now holding Ethan’s hand.

Damiano rested the baby on his hip and came over to the dining table. “Are you doing alright? What can I make you for breakfast?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, you probably only just got finished cooking.” You said. “I’m fine to have cereal.”

“None of that.” He dismissed with a little sassy finger waggle, which got Nikkie’s attention. “You took on the late late late shift by yourself last night, you deserve more than cereal.”

You shrugged. “I’m not gonna argue with that. Are eggs an option?”

“Definitely, I could even poach a couple and put them on toast with some avocado.” He said.

“Damn, you’re the best.” You said.

“It’s the least I can do.” He said before handing Nikkie off to Ethan. “You’re doing school drop-off today, right?”

He nodded. “Right.”

The baby had too much energy to just sit in her dad’s lap, so he placed her down on the floor. She seemed far happier, making her cheerful little gurgling sounds as she began to explore, crawling around.

In the absence of any cries or whimpers from her, neither of you had to rush to check on her. No help was needed and you felt that feeling of balance again. Ethan’s hand was back in yours and you gave it an appreciative squeeze.

»»————-　♡　————-««

🌈 read more of this series!!!

🍑taglist: @bethanysnow - @gr8rainbowpunk - @idyllicbutterfly - @maneskindiva - @maneslut - @saschenkaaa - @slavicgoddess13 - @elvirabelle - @maneskintifoso - @thegeminisgirl - @ha-la-ansia - @butkutee - @ursulalurks - @itsmaneskinbitch - @icarodamiano - @floral-recs - @crwnnjules - @paralianeyes - @fand0mskullfa1ry - @chocolatepizzatyrant - @lizzylynch1 - @kammerstx - @myleftsock - @tellmesomething01 - @adoredamianos - @vittoriaisfuckingpathetic - @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis - @shinshans - @lonnybunnys - @lyricalliz - @lifeofa-fangirl - @chemical-killjoy [join here!]

#maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin fic #damithan supremacy #damithan throuple fic #damithan rainbow family

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2ndstarblog · 10 months ago

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Expanding the Labyrinth Universe: From Film to Graphic Novel.

[ ARTWORK BY Rebekah Isaacs EDITED BY Ziggy Dickson ]

The enchantment of Jim Henson’s 1986 film “Labyrinth” has not gone unnoticed in the almost 40 years from its conception, captivating audiences with its imaginative storytelling and unforgettable characters. The movie follows a 16-year-old Sarah (Jennifer Connelly) as she navigates the mystical land of the Labyrinth to reach the Goblin City to rescue her baby brother from Jareth the Goblin King (David Bowie.) With music written by the Goblin King himself, the movie became a cult classic with the character of Jareth becoming a fan-favourite.

With his striking appearance and charismatic yet mysterious flair, audiences adored the villain. However, his backstory and motivations were left largely unexplored in the movie. In 2018, the graphic novel series “Labyrinth: Coronation” was published by Archaia, an imprint of Boom! Studios.

Written by the brilliant Simon Spurrier and illustrated by Daniel Bayliss and Irene Flores, the series serves as a prequel to the original movie offering fans a deeper and richer understanding of the Goblin King’s origins and expanding the lore of the Labyrinth universe.

Set in the same fantastical world as the movie, the story reveals that Jareth was once a human, named Jareth Williams, who was abducted by the Owl King when he was still an infant. His mother Maria, embarks on a perilous journey to rescue him, mirroring Sarah’s quest from the movie. As the series progresses, readers are introduced to new characters and deeper layers of the magical realm that mimic the original movie.

One of the most important contributions of the graphic novel is the exploration of Jareth’s transformation from a human child to Goblin King. The backstory provides context for his enigmatic nature and complex personality seen in Bowie’s portrayal. The graphic novel series delves into Jareth’s early life, his relationship with his mother and the events that shaped his destiny.

With extended inserts from the movie, the series portrays Jareth as a multi-dimensional character, struggling with his power and identity whilst ‘looking after’ Toby alongside Beetlegum, his Goblin Servant who looked after him as a babe. The novel gives him a vulnerability that was only hinted in the movie, giving the reader an insight into his motivations, his sense of duty to the labyrinth and the loneliness that comes with his role as Goblin King.

The novel also builds upon the world of the Labyrinth, once ruled by a tyrannical Owl King who wanted nothing to do with the Goblins belligerent drinking and partying; a clear contrast to the Goblin King we see in the movie who wants for nothing more than a good musical number and a party. Showing Jareth’s mothers influence and his own care for the goblin kingdom and its inhabitants.

In the wider world, the graphic novel introduces the readers to the political dynamics within the Labyrinth and its various factions vying for control. Exploring themes of power, sacrifice and the enduring bonds between parents and children. It offers a deeper, more nuanced narrative that appeals to both longtime fans and newcomers to the series.

“Labyrinth: Coronation” serves as a compelling prequel to the beloved 1986 film and offers a richer understanding of the Goblin King and the enchanting world of the Labyrinth. Exploring his backstory and the complex dynamics of the Labyrinth, the graphic novel series enhances the original story and adds new layers of depth to a character who has captivated audiences for decades.

For fans of “Labyrinth,” “Labyrinth: Coronation” is a must-read that expands the universe and provides a satisfying exploration of one of fantasy’s most iconic characters.

#labyrinth #Labyrinth: Coronation #Labyrinth Comic #david bowie #simon spurrier #Comic Book #Article #NewWriter #freelance

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 2 years ago

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The Prettiest Star

i started writing this last night but finished it today so it’s kind of both Song-fic Saturday and Smutty Sunday for my 250 Followers Writing Event

Song-fic Saturday 🎶 song: The Prettiest Star by David Bowie

pairing: Sirius Black x plus size! reader

tags / warnings: NSFW (minors do not interact!), smut, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, oral, p in v (unprotected — use condoms y’all, this is fantasy), fem!reader, plus size! reader, reader insecurities about her weight, body positivity, non-magical au (couldn’t have them just apparating out of the rain, right?)

notes: i’m a huge music fan and love Bowie and have been listening to Aladdin Sane a lot because it’s just had its 50th anniversary, so hence the song inspiration (“The Prettiest Star”)

word count: 8.1k (yike, please enjoy)

“Does this look too tight?” you ask Lily as you look at your reflection in your favourite jumper, tugging it down repeatedly. You’ve never been particularly thin, but you’d gained a noticeable amount recently, and it was increasingly making getting dressed the worst part of your day. “It looks fine, Y/N,” she says, a bit dismissively, then catches herself (and the look on your face), and adds, “Really. You look beautiful. Don’t ever let the scale tell you different,” giving you a warm smile. It was the “right” thing to say, perhaps, and you were grateful for what a sweet friend she always was to you, truly, but it didn’t make you feel any better. And… if you were brutally honest, it kind of annoyed you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, and the feeling made you feel guilty on top of everything else. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong; in fact, she was just genuinely trying to help, or perhaps even just genuine in what she said. But somehow, when it came to any comments on your body — especially specifically about your weight, negative or positive, you grew irritable even more than uncomfortable. You felt as if no one understood the mix of self-consciousness and self-confidence that you felt. As if everyone projected either how they felt about themselves or how they assumed all fat people felt onto you. Worse, you felt that you could never express your true feelings to anyone. Even when you tried, things came out muddled, or things you said were directly contradictory — yet equally true. It couldn’t possibly be that no one else felt contradictory things about themselves, about their bodies, could it? Were you just shit at articulating your feelings, or were your feelings that atypical?

You opt to keep the jumper on even though it hugged your chest a bit more tightly than usual. A twinge of regret went through you at the thought that usually winter was your favourite time in terms of fashion in general and your wardrobe specifically. You loved your winter clothes and winter aesthetics overall. You really didn’t want to let a little weight gain get in the way of that, but it had a way of making itself known no matter how much you tried to avoid it.

On cue, it whispers in your head, “You probably only like winter clothes more because they cover more of you. None of those pretty sundresses Lily, Marlene, Mary, or Dorcas wear ever fit you. Not to mention any summer outfit that involves no bra or a visible bralette - not a chance.” You shake your head at yourself, trying to convince yourself that comfort was a complicated thing, that you didn’t have to overanalyze everything in such an accusatory way.

You finish getting ready and head to the pub with Lily to meet the others. Remus and James greet you, and James can’t say enough times how lovely Lily looks. It makes you happy for them, two of your best friends so in love, but you can’t help but feel a little funny, a little longing at the lack of those comments ever made about you.

The thing is, you didn’t dislike yourself. In fact, there were many times you genuinely thought you were beautiful, or that you wouldn’t trade yourself for anyone else. But those thoughts came more easily when you were alone, and not wanting to be anyone else did not include not wanting to be yourself, minus a bit here or there.

You feel a pair of arms come around your middle from behind you, and there’s no time to be freaked out because you immediately know who it is. It’s like a sixth sense. Sure, you recognize his intoxicating smell, can feel and hear the texture of his characteristic leather jacket, but there’s more to it. Before you even consciously register these things or hear him whisper in your ear, you know it’s him. Sirius. Your best friend in the entire world. “Hello, darling girl,” he greets. “How is my finest friend on this finest of evenings?”

“Hi, Siri,” you smile, leaning back into him. “I’m alright; you?” You turn your head up to look at him. “Just alright? Oh, we need to remedy that, love. Urgently.” He looks around a bit, registering your other friends, sharing greetings here and there. “D’you have a drink yet? Let’s go get one, yeah?” he asks, unwinding his arms from his hug but leaving one around your shoulders, where it stays as you walk over to the bar together.

“You’re good then?” you ask again, giggling a bit - sometimes it was as if you couldn’t help it; his presence made you giddy. “Me? Oh, I’m wonderful. I’ve been having the greatest hair day, which is truly saying something, and now I’m with you,” he squeezes your shoulder a bit, “What else could I possibly ask for?”

You roll your eyes, your smile never fading, wrap your arm around his waist, and say, “Two rum and cokes, maybe?” You nod toward the bartender. “You always have better luck getting their attention than I do. It’s like they only see the attractive girls, honestly.”

Comments like these came easily to you when you were around people you trusted. It was strange; they weren’t really intended as self-deprecating. And you weren’t fishing for compliments either, especially not with your closest friends. Part of you wanted to be able to make comments like that freely, to not have to censor your thoughts and feelings when it came to your appearance, thinking that such things really shouldn’t be taboo in the first place, and especially not with people you loved. The other part, well, you weren’t so sure what the other part wanted.

“You’re attractive,” Sirius responds, matter-of-factly, your heart rushing a little at the sound of it. You knew you had feelings for him, had for ages and had no use in denying it, but there was also the lack of pity in his comment. He never treated you as fragile; his voice never took on the tone of a motivational poster. “Maybe not to everyone,” he adds candidly, “but no one is attractive to everyone. And,” he pauses, looking down at you conspiratorially, “a lot of people have shit taste anyway.” He pauses again, considering you intently. Then something shifts in his expression, and he adds, speaking more quickly than before, “I mean, not everyone likes Bowie, for example. Bowie, Y/N, Bowie. Why should we ever put stock in what other people think if some of those people can’t see - or hear or whatever - beauty when it’s right in front of them?”

You grin but shoot back, “You’re attractive to everyone.”

Raising his eyebrows, looking straight into your eyes, he responds, “Does that include you then?” A careless group of girls bumping into you saves you from having to decide how much of a joking tone to put on your response. You didn’t find Sirius attractive. You found Sirius the most beautiful person you’d ever met, in senses that went far beyond his impeccable hair, his striking grey eyes, his pronounced cheekbones.

He holds you closer protectively at the jostling crowd, turns to ask for your drinks, and begins absentmindedly stroking your shoulder as he does so.

“No wonder you always wear this,” he says, pinching your jumper, “It’s so bloody soft.”

You had no idea he ever remembered or even noticed what you wore. Marlene, sure. Marlene was making a statement every time she stepped out of the house. And her face and body punctuated that statement with a big exclamation mark. But you? You hardly ever got that kind of attention. Maybe a “nice shirt” when you wore a particularly fun pattern, but that was about it.

You notice him looking at your torso as he says this and swear his eyes linger on your chest. You’re worrying he can tell it’s tighter than usual, so you tug at the hem, but when he looks quickly away, you try not to make too much of it.

You’re having loads of fun with your friends, swapping stories, sharing shots, occasionally shouting the lyrics to the good songs that come on. You and Sirius — who’s standing next you, his arm perpetually around you, much to the dismay of the many girls and few guys who come flirting — have a habit of turning to each other every time a new song comes on, deciding in unison whether it’s a good or bad one. The very occasional disagreement yields the most fun arguments, always along the lines of “You think this isn’t rubbish? You’re making me question our entire friendship here, love. I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” (Sirius) or “Oh, come on. This sounds exactly like every other song in the genre but mediocre. Not everything has to be original, but it’d be nice if it weren’t typical and trash.” (You)

Then some new Bowie comes on. And Sirius looks as though he’s just received the greatest news of his life.

Cold fire, you’ve got everything but cold fire / You will be my rest and peace child, rings out Bowie’s electric voice. “Come dance with me!” Sirius bursts at you, hardly asking, dragging you by the hand to where a few (mostly quite drunk) people were dancing. He’s holding both your hands, and you’re moving together organically, falling into a languid rhythm with each other and the song. By the next line, Sirius is singing along, and as he sings with Bowie, “I moved up to take a place… Near you,” he shuffles closer to you seductively, looking nowhere but into your eyes as he places your hand on his shoulder and moves his own to your hip.

He’s theatrical with every lyric, each of which he knows by heart; “So tired,” he swoons; “It’s the sky that makes you feel tried,” he belts looking up toward the ceiling; “It’s a trick to make you see wide,” his eyes come back to yours, open wide and full of mirth; “It can all but break your heart…,” he steps closer to you again; “… In pieces,” he swoons again, this time onto your shoulder, leaning on you and holding you close. You’re too busy laughing both with and at him to be able to sing along yourself.

“Staying back in your memory… Are the movies in the past,” he continues, acting less and dancing smoothly with you, spinning you around and catching you close afterward.

He’s staring into your eyes, his face very close to yours as he sings, much more softly now, swaying slowly more than dancing, “How you moved is all it takes… to sing a song of when I loved… the prettiest star.” His hands squeeze you as he says those last three words.

He gives you another playful spin and goes on, “One day… though it might as well be someday… you and I will rise up all the way… all because of what you are…” Then, for the first time in the whole song, he and Bowie don’t synchronize. As Bowie finishes the line over the speakers, “the prettiest star,” you distinctly hear — and see, since his lips are so close to you after all — Sirius finish, “my prettiest star.”

The rest of the world has all melted away by this point; all that’s left is Sirius; all you can hear is the song, his voice, your frantic heartbeat in your ears. His hand comes to your face, caressing your cheek then resting there.

You have no idea how to react. Sirius flirted with you often. But Sirius flirted with everyone often. It was just a quirk of his personality. And Sirius touched you often. But it was never this gentle, this intimate. You don’t want to get your hopes up. Because as much as — or perhaps because of how much — you love him, you can’t really believe he’d see you that way. You’ve let yourself entertain the idea many times, sure, even suspected from time to time over the years of your friendship that maybe just maybe your desire was mutual, but ultimately, your fears and doubts — doubled every time a girl half your size who could so easily be on any billboard flirted with Sirius — would win out and push those thoughts and feelings down.

Your rhythmic swaying, your prolonged eye contact, your bursting heart and muddled mind continued through the end of the song. Though you knew it must have been about a minute and a half, it had felt like hours, time expanded by both bliss and trepidation, by the time the music changed and you broke apart. As you do, Sirius just watches you, as if searching for something.

You’re fidgeting with the sleeves of your jumper when you whisper, “That was fun,” and give him a quick hug, not letting yourself linger and pulling back before his arms were comfortably around you.

You have plans with Sirius the next day, and as you’re getting ready, you can’t help but remember back to his comment on your jumper last night, more worried at your appearance now that you think he noticed it more than you did before. You’re standing in your room in just your underwear stressing out over what to wear. You’ve put on your best bra, the one that does the most to help your figure without being too uncomfortable, and you’ve made a mess of your knickers drawer looking for a clean pair of high-waisted ones.

There was a time you would’ve avoided looking in the mirror at this stage, but now, you stand in front of it and give yourself a serious look. You suck your stomach in, and pull a bit with your hands on your hips, then let it all go, contemplating the difference. You turn to your profile, admiring the curves of your chest and your arse, but wishing there was less of your thighs immediately after. Arching your back and grabbing your arse, you wonder whether anyone — you close your eyes and admit to yourself: no, not anyone, Sirius — whether Sirius would find this, would find you attractive. As you take a deep breath, you lament how thinking of others’ opinions always made it so much harder to look at yourself with loving eyes. You didn’t hate your body, but your frequent worries that others would brought you down on more days than you wanted to admit.

You put on your favorite jeans, but as you go to choose a top, you remember one you’d borrowed from Lily a few months ago that had looked good. It was quite loose on her and a bit tight on you, but you each pulled it off differently. You ask her for it, and she happily obliges, but when you put it on, a knot turns in your stomach. It’s way too tight. The pattern is stretched; your boobs look huge; it somehow brings out rather than covers the fat on your sides. Taking it off in a hurry, you have to take another long, calming breath to keep tears of frustration at bay.

After finally finding something of yours that worked, giving the top back to Lily with a quick “Thanks, but it didn’t look as good as last time,” and giving yourself too many “final” glances in the mirror, you bundle up as you head into the windy afternoon.

You meet Sirius at the record shop near his flat. You see him before he sees you. He’s browsing the racks, and per usual, he looks effortlessly cool and unreasonably attractive. His long fingers are accentuated by his several silver rings as he flips through the records. He pushes his long hair out of his eyes in a careless gesture, and you’re almost angry at how it falls so perfectly he might as well have just spent an hour in front of a mirror.

You’re approaching him when a cute girl in a hot crop top walks up to him. She steps closer to him than any normal interaction would warrant. “Anything I can help you find, handsome?” she asks, and you wonder whether you’re imagining the twinge of a double meaning in the question. Maybe she’s just a flirty person doing her job. “We have a few special ones in the stock room I could show you…” Nope, not just doing her job. “Thanks, sweetheart, but I’m waiting for someone.” As he looks away from her back toward the records, he catches you in his peripherals. He smiles a beaming smile at you and gestures you over.

“You’re not going to believe what I found,” he begins enthusiastically. You hug; it lingers, and he squeezes you lovingly. “Mm, you smell nice,” he adds, as if it’s a normal thing to say. Is it a normal thing to say? Maybe it is. Maybe you’re overthinking, especially after the moment you shared last night.

“Thanks, new shampoo. What’d you find?” You look toward the records to ease the tension you were probably creating.

“Check this out.” If he noticed any awkwardness, he definitely doesn’t show it. He pulls out a record you had recently had a long conversation about.

“Brilliant!” you react, snatching it from him and turning it over in your hands, reading its contents eagerly.

He chuckles at you, and if you’d been looking at him instead of the record, you might have seen the accompanying adoring look.

“I know. It’s our lucky day.”

You browse around the shop together, chatting easily, both about music and all sorts of random things that came to mind. Talking to Sirius is always easy, always gives you more than the contents of the conversation to hold onto, to fill you up.

You go to pay, and the girl from earlier is working the till. Sirius goes to the loo, so it’s just you and her when you hand her a couple of records to ring up.

“Cool choices.” “Thanks.” “Is that your boyfriend?” she asks, nodding behind her toward the toilets.

“Oh, um,” you stutter. You’re not exactly sure why “no” doesn’t just easily come to your mouth. “I don’t know how you managed it. Lucky bitch,” she half laughs. You’re mortified; you can’t tell for sure, but you think she is trying to be friendly, just in a very strange record-shop-employee, rock and roll kind of way.

Sirius comes back around, and you hope to hell he hasn’t heard anything.

“All good, darling?” he asks, putting his arm around you. This wasn’t unusual for him, the nickname, the contact. But you’re already in an uncomfortable headspace, and your first thought is that you hope he isn’t doing it as an act for her benefit. You don’t even know if he’d heard, and your anxiety is taking over anyway. You keep running the woman’s words over in your head. How had she meant it? Did she mean she couldn’t believe you had managed it? As in specific, chubby, you? Or was she just making girly conversation? Would she have said the same to any woman, no matter how attractive, who had come into the shop with Sirius?

“You alright?” Sirius’s voice breaks you out of your spiraling. You look over at him, and his gaze is gentle but concerned.

“Yeah, fine, sorry,” you reply quickly. “It’s all good,” he smiles comfortingly at you.

Once outside the shop, you debate your next move. Normally on weekends when you’d get records, you’d then go eat, then go to his and listen to some of them, sometimes sharing a blunt, sometimes just getting high on the music.

You’re both looking up into the newly drizzling sky when Sirius says, “How about, we get take-away somewhere close, then just eat at mine? It looks like it’ll get worse soon, but I reckon we can make it before it really starts up.”

“Yeah, great.”

You’ve made it only a few blocks, though, when the rain pours down in sudden torrents.

“Oh, shit!” he laughingly yells, protecting the records, taking your hand, and sprinting to the nearest protective awning. By the time you make it, you’re both already extremely wet, and the weather is so windy the cover hardly helps in keeping it from getting even worse.

You’re squeezing as close to the wall as possible, standing chest to chest, the records between you, his arm around your waist, your faces close enough for you to see each individual drop as it travels down his face. His eyes match the sky behind him, and you silently marvel at his beauty. He looks up for a second then is overtaken by heartfelt laughter.

“Didn’t quite gauge that one right, I guess,” he chuckles. You’re laughing with him when a particularly strong gust blows freezing water forcefully at you, making you gasp and stiffen.

“Shit,” he laughs. “Let’s make a run for it.” He takes your hand again, and you both jog the few blocks to his flat.

You’re both still giggly when you step inside, leaving a puddle in the doorway where you stand. You take off your shoes and outer layers, but you’re drenched all the way through.

“Bloody hell, it’s freezing,” he amusedly complains, stripping down to only his jeans, leaving his clothes in a pile by the door. He hugs himself and rubs his arms, trying to warm up, and you’re glad your soaked demeanour is already such a mess he probably can’t tell how flustered you are by how attractive — and bare — he is. He reaches over to you and rubs your arms like he had been doing his. “Fuck, you’re freezing too. Come to my room, and I’ll lend you something to wear.” Your giddy mood dissipates immediately. There was no way in hell his clothes would fit you. He was obviously leaner than you, and your hips and thighs hadn’t gotten along well with men’s clothes even in your thinnest of states. He’s halfway to his room already, and you’re frozen by the door. “Y/N?”

You look over. You hope he doesn’t notice your eyes quickly travel his bare torso. “You coming or what?” he keeps on casually. When you get to his room, he’s bringing some towels out of the bathroom and throws you one. You start drying your hair as he rummages in his drawers. “Um,” you start. You sound more nervous than you mean to. He clearly notices because he immediately turns back to look at you to see what’s going on. “What is it?”

You hate worrying him like this, especially over something so stupid. Why did you always have to make things uncomfortable? Or better yet, why couldn’t you just be a girl who would fit in his clothes. “Hey, what is it?” he repeats, gentler this time, coming over to rest his hands on your shoulders. Your self-deprecating, cruel inner monologue is clearly showing more than you’d hope. “You alright, love?” “Yeah, no, I’m fine, sorry,” you try to laugh it off. “Don’t apologise.” It’s gentle, not scolding. “Just talk to me.” His hands continue rubbing your shoulders lovingly. “Just that I think I’m fine like this is all. Don’t worry about finding stuff for me,” you try. “Don’t be ridiculous; you’ll freeze to death. It’s fine; I don’t mind.” He goes back toward his dresser.

Ugh, how do you say “It’s not about your minding, actually. It’s about my stretching and ruining anything you could possibly lend me” without sounding weird and embarrassing?

“Thanks. Um, I’m not quite sure anything of yours would fit me though.” “We’ll find something,” he says relaxedly, opening another drawer. “Here, this one is really warm and comfy, and it’ll definitely fit,” he says, tossing you a sweatshirt. You recognize it, have seen him wearing it before. He only ever wore it while lounging at home, and it was quite big on him, so maybe it would be okay.

“And… uh,” he rummages, “try these. They’re a bit small, but they’re stretchy.” He hands you a pair of sweatpants. You’ve never seen him wear these. They would probably be too big on him. He grabs his towel and some clothes for himself.

“I’ll go change in the living room. Just come out when you’re ready. Grab whatever you want.” His tone is friendly, at ease. Unlike your feelings. You are freaking out. As soon as he closes the door, you strip down to your knickers, which thankfully aren’t very wet, at top speed, thinking you should hurry in case it takes you time to figure out the clothes. You don’t want to take too long and make things awkward. You towel yourself off and slip on the sweatshirt. It fits fine. It isn’t loose like it is on him, but it doesn’t look too weird. And it is indeed warm and comfy. Now for the more concerning part: you try pulling the pants on, a repeating “please, please, please” playing in your head. Fuck. No luck. They stop a bit above your mid-thigh, and there is no way you’d be able to pull them all the way up. You think of putting your jeans back on, but they are drenched, and it would’ve been like trying to get back into a heavy straight-jacket. You start panicking, unsure what to do, already worrying you are taking too long to come out. You look through his drawers, but all his other bottoms look even smaller. You try just wrapping the towel around your hips, but you look quite strange in the mirror.

You’re pacing in his room when he knocks. “Y/N? You alright? No rush, really, just making sure everything’s okay?”

You brace yourself, go to the door, and crack it open, hiding your body behind it, just popping your head around. He’s standing there, his wet hair half tied up, a dry t-shirt and sweats on.

“Um… the sweatpants don’t fit,” you whisper, embarrassed.

“Oh. Uh, that’s okay. Um, how about…,” he looks around, as if bigger pants would magically materialise somewhere in his living room. “Oh, perfect.” What could possibly be perfect right now? “Your favourite blanket is already on the sofa. How about I turn around, and you can just go get under it, and I’ll hang your trousers on my heater.”

You nod timidly, the warmth in your cheeks from your embarrassment blazing even hotter at the thought of how sweet he always is to you.

“Great. Uh, ok,” he chuckles, awkwardly turning around. You scamper to his sofa in your underwear, quickly covering your legs with his big cosy blanket.

“Ok,” you let out softly. He turns around and looks you over. You can’t tell what’s in his eyes as he does so, but there is an intensity there that you’re not used to. He blinks quickly and gives you a strange, strained smile. He disappears into his room, and you hear him sorting your clothes out to dry.

You’re fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt when he returns.

“You alright? Comfortable?” he asks, seemingly back to normal.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, I didn’t meat to, uh, well, sorry I’m a bit difficult,” you reply a bit awkwardly, not knowing what exactly to apologise for but feeling the need to. “Don’t be ridiculous, love. You have nothing to be sorry for. Really. If you’re okay like this, then we’re all good, right?” You can’t help but worry what will happen as soon as you have to get up. Would you wrap the blanket around yourself like a weirdo? As if reading your thoughts, Sirius goes on playfully, “I’ll wait on you like royalty so you don’t even have to get up.” You make an odd half laugh, half relieved exhale sound in response, and he just chuckles. “Starting with…” he fast walks over to the door, grabs the bag of records and brings it back over to the sofa, sitting next to you but not getting under the same blanket like he usually does. “Which do you want to listen to first?” he asks, bringing them all out to look at together.

As soon as you started discussing it, it’s like waking up from a nightmare, realising all is well and returning to a calm normality. You debate and joke, decide on a record, and he gets up to put it on and make some tea, still chatting casually to you throughout.

When he’s back on the sofa with you, he looks down, smiles, and says, “Looks better on you than on me.” You tug on the sweatshirt self-consciously, smiling shyly at him. You fall into your easy rhythm, listening, talking, laughing, and before you knew it, the whole record’s played. Sirius gets up, walking toward his collection rather than the small stack of new records on the table. He picks one easily, and puts it on. The quirky piano of Bowie’s “Time” begins, and your heart speeds up. You love this album. So does Sirius. But this isn’t the first track. It’s the first track on the B-side, and the next song after this, you remember, is “The Prettiest Star,” the song you and Sirius danced to just last night. He doesn’t say anything until he’s seated next to you again. “I know we usually listen from the beginning, but the B-side is better on this one, and I didn’t feel like being patient.” His tone is playful, but there’s a heaviness to it. He glances away from you and leans toward the table to take a sip of his tea.

“What’s your favourite track?” you ask, smiling. You’ve asked him this question innumerable times over the years, but you’ve never been as excited for his answer as this time, and you have a feeling you know what it’ll be.

“‘The Prettiest Star,’” he replies immediately, looking toward you again. As quickly as he had, he looks away again as he adds, “Because it reminds me of you… even before last night…” After a beat, he ventures a glance toward you, that same searching look from last night taking over his beautiful features.

Unlike last night, you don’t feel panicked — nervous, sure, but more than that, loved. “Last night felt pretty special,” you say. “Yeah?” He seems hopeful. “Yeah, it was.” His voice is serene, like he’s contemplating something utterly peaceful. “It’s funny, though,” you say, and he looks at you, his eyebrow quirked. “It’s really about you, isn’t it? Not me.” You laugh. He looks like he wants to laugh with you, a twinkle in his eye, clearly happy that you are happy, but confusion holds his expression. You explain, “Well, you’re ‘the prettiest star,’ aren’t you? You’re obviously prettier, the prettiest… and the brightest in the night sky in fact… ‘Sirius.’” You say his name with all the love you feel for him.

He leans toward you, taking your hand. He’s smiling, but there’s a sadness to it.

“You might not be named for a star, but you’re my prettiest star, Y/N.” He looks into your eyes. “You’re so beautiful.” His eyes scan your face. “It’s almost too bright to bear sometimes, to be honest, your beauty,” he adds, smiling more vividly now. He brings his other hand to your face, just as he did last night. But this time, his fingertips begin by taking their time tracing your features: your eyebrow first, your nose, your cheekbone, down to your jaw. His thumb grazes your lip, barely touching it but lingering there, before moving to caress you cheek. “You’re so beautiful, my prettiest star,” he repeats, as the song begins in the background.

“Sirius,” you whisper, squeezing his hand.

“Darling girl,” he responds, moving closer to you until your foreheads meet. Your nose nuzzles his, and you stay like this for several seconds. You bring your hand to the crook of his neck, and holding him, you lean forward. The song goes silent, the intro ending, the anticipation built, and right as Bowie’s voice comes in, your lips meet.

Sirius’s hand slips from the side of your face to the back of your head, holding you firmly, leaning into you hungrily. His hand holding yours goes to your waist, pulling you close to him until your chest is flush with his. You wrap your arms around his neck and slip your fingers into his hair.

He moans into your mouth, and you deepen the kiss, pushing his tongue with yours, breaching into his mouth. He lets you, and as you explore him, he pulls your body until you find yourself kneeling on the sofa in front of him, the blanket fallen to the floor.

You pull back momentarily, and he stills his movements, watching you, waiting for your cue for what to do next. His eyes are lidded, his pupils blown, his lips parted, but you know that if you sat back down and told him you just wanted to listen to the record, that’s exactly what he’d do. But that’s not what you want. So, you lean forward and pick up your exploration right where you left it. He groans appreciatively and sucks on your tongue in his mouth, before pulling you on top of him.

You’re straddling him, and you’re so attracted to him you’re drowning in it, but even still, your nerves are there. You feel heavy. Too heavy to be sitting on top of him like this. He keeps his hands on your waist and strokes your back, not venturing any further down, pulling back to look at you. You shift clumsily, trying to put more of your weight on your knees on the sofa, but not being able to without spreading awkwardly wider or ending up lopsided. He holds you firmly, centering you again, hugging you close. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you whisper, trying to explain what he’s already figured out.

He can’t help the chuckle that escapes him before he says, “Trust me, darling, I’m about as far form uncomfortable as a person can be right now.” He squeezes you lovingly, clearly careful to squeeze all of you and not just any specific place, which might make you uncomfortable. “I’ve been going absolutely mental this whole time just knowing you weren’t wearing anything but your knickers under that blanket.”

“You have?” you ask, surprised, your eyes wide, your voice soft. He giggles again, always adoring, never mocking. “Fuck, how can someone be so adorable and so sexy at the same time?” It baffles you how someone can say the word “sexy” so seriously and not sound silly at all, give it so much confidence that it just sounds so, well, so sexy. He pecks your lips. “You’re going to kill me, woman.” Now you laugh.

“Oh?” “Mm,” he groans affirmatively as he runs his hands up your sides and back and kisses you ardently. He moves to your jaw, kissing languidly down to your ear, where he nips playfully and sucks on your neck another moment before looking into your eyes again and saying, “Fuck, Y/N, tell me you want this too.” A kiss. “I’m desperate for you.” Another kiss. “But only if you want me too.” Another kiss, longer this time. “I want to make you feel good, darling. Fuck, I can make you feel so so good.” Your hips grind down on his at his words, and he throws his head back in a lustful groan, and his hands squeeze you tightly where they hold you. He recovers, stroking your back again and resting his forehead on yours as he asks, “Can I touch you, Y/N? I’ll stop anytime you say so, but I’m dying to worship you.” You kiss him deeply, holding him close, grinding your hips down again. “I want you to touch me, Siri.” At this, his mouth immediately devours yours, and his hands come down to squeeze your arse. He kneads it roughly, pulling you into him with each motion, inadvertently pushing his hips up a bit each time to meet yours. You feel the hard, evident bulge in his pants underneath you, and it turns you on even more to feel wanted in such a visceral way. There is no missing how much his body wants yours, and that surprises but arouses you to no end.

His hands come down to your thighs, and you gasp and stiffen a bit. He stops but leaves his hand there, stroking you cautiously.

“Y/N?” He bumps your nose with his. “I…” You peck his lips. “You really don’t mind my body?” you ask, your voice small.

“Darling,” he breaks a little. “Mind it? I adore it. Can’t you feel what you do to me?” he half jokes, thrusting up into you. You close your eyes and bite your lower lip at the addictive friction. “Y/N. Look at me, love,” he whispers. You do. “I think you are the most gorgeous, sexiest woman in the world. Of course it’s all intertwined with how much I love you, but that just makes it even better. God, you have no idea how much you turn me on.” He kisses you short but hard. “I never want to tell you how to feel, love, but I just wish you knew how beautiful you are, how you are the most beautiful to me.” You kiss him again and become immersed in it fully. Your tongues are dancing with each other, your hips, your hands, moving in tandem with each other, melting into each other in a perfect push and pull.

His hands slip under his sweatshirt, and he whispers, “Can I?” You don’t hesitate, entrusting yourself to him, and detaching yourself from him only enough for him to slip it over your head. His hands come to your breasts, and you hear him say “fuck” again as he kneads them and keeps kissing you. His hands keep massaging as his mouth moves down your jaw wetly. He takes his time moving down your body, sucking your neck, licking across your sternum, kissing delicately down to between your breasts. He buries his face there and moans, and it’s so hot you pull him to you and scratch his scalp where you’re holding him by his hair. He kisses there again then his fingers move to pinch your nipples. He mixes pulling it with massaging your whole breast with one hand, but the other just grips your tit as his mouth wraps around your nipple. His tongue licks around it a few times before he sucks on it, and his groan is drowned out by your pleasured yell.

“Fuck, Sirius,” you say, your voice a rasp.

“Mmm,” he responds, not letting up, switching breasts after sucking a bit harder. Once he’s satisfied (for now) and your nipples are hard and sore, he grips your tits again with his hands and licks into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby, you have the most incredible tits.” He squeezes them. “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of taking your shirt off and touching you.” He goes back down and gives each a quick but delicious suck. “Let’s go to my bed, yeah?” You nod heatedly.

You’re a bit self-conscious as you move to get off of him, more aware of your body beyond the pleasure again though you had been so lost in it just a moment ago you’d forgotten about everything else. Sirius helps you off and up, his hands on your hips, and he pulls you into him as you both stand, making out with you before squeezing your arse as he pulls away to walk to his bedroom. You wrap your arms around yourself as you walk with him, but when you’re standing in front of the bed, he takes each of your hands in his and kisses you while holding them, bringing his body flush with yours. You break the contact to pull on his shirt, and he eagerly obliges, removing it and tossing it aside.

He guides you onto the bed, his body following on top of yours, your mouths connected the whole time. You shuffle up the bed then tug his sweats down when you’re settled. He helps you, shimmying out of them. They get caught on one of his ankles, and you both laugh as he curses and contorts awkwardly to pull them all the way off.

You’re both left only in your underwear as he starts kissing you again, slowly making his way down your body. He spends a lingering amount of time on your tits again as he goes down then keeps kissing down your stomach to the waistband of your knickers. He looks up at you for any hesitation, but you just bite your lip and lift your hips. He smirks in excitement as he pulls your panties off of you. He does it slowly, teasingly, and he licks down your thigh tracing where the fabric passes. Once they’re off, he pushes your knees a bit further apart and starts kissing and licking his way back up. He sucks at the top of your thigh, and it makes a pop as he separates from you.

Kneeling between your legs, massaging your thighs on either side of him, he says, “You drive me mad, Y/N. You’re so fucking delicious, I could spend eternity between these thighs.” You squirm at his graphic words, already exceptionally strung out. He chuckles lowly down at you and kisses you quickly before adjusting himself with his head between your thighs.

“Today really is my lucky day,” he says, face lined up with your cunt. “This is the second time I see you drenched today, and I fucking love being the cause of it this time.” Without further ado, he licks a sopping stripe from your entrance up to your clit. Even this first motion sounds wet. You’re sure you’ve never been so wet in your life.

Sirius buries his face in your cunt, groaning as he licks into you then sucks on your lips. He goes back and forth between sucking on you and fucking you with his tongue. He keeps playing with you until you’re squirming before bringing his mouth directly to your clit. He’d grazed it as he licked you before now, bumped you with his nose, teasing you, but now he gives it his full attention. He’s licking and sucking, moaning all the while like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten, moving his whole body with the passion of it, and it takes very little more for you to start cumming on his mouth. You make a yelping sound you’ve never made before in your ecstasy, and with your eyes closed, you feel as if the world is a million miles away; all you feel is your body and where it is connected to Sirius’s. He keeps up his motions and fervor until your pleasured squirming turns into overstimulation squirming. He gives you one last lick and suck then shuffles up your body, kissing it intermittently as he does, until he’s face to face with you, smiling a smile you’ve never seen before.

“Hello, darling,” he says, clearly satisfied with himself, kissing you.

“Hi,” you sigh, sounding completely fucked out. He giggles at you and kisses you again.

“Feel good?”

“Mmhhmm.” You stretch underneath him and languidly wrap your arms around him, licking his lips slowly before kissing him again.

“Fuck,” he responds.

“Yes, please.” Your voice is high, blissful. You rut up into him. He chuckles at you and strokes your hairline, kissing your forehead.

“You want to? You’re alright?” “Of course, Siri. I’m brilliant.” “That you are, my love,” he beams at you then pushes his pants off. “My prettiest star,” he says, as he pecks your lips then your nose then lines himself up with your entrance.

His eyes penetrate yours as he pushes into you. You moan in unison, and his mouth lingers just above yours, grazing your lips, your foreheads touching, as he slowly pushes deeper and deeper. When he bottoms out, he kisses you eagerly, stroking his tongue into your mouth as his cock ruts deep inside you. Your hands grip his back. His hands come down to your thighs one at a time, squeezing passionately before pushing your legs up and out, wrapping them around his waist.

Normally, you’d feel self-conscious in this position. Almost bent in half, your stomach protrudes between the two of you. Your thighs are thick at his sides. But the look on his face, the feel of the movements of his body is all love and adoration and ardor.

He kisses you as he thrusts a bit harder, keeping it slow at first but vigorously punctuating each thrust. One of his hands rests beside you, holding him up, but the other stayed on your leg, stroking your thigh and gripping your arse or hip bruisingly with each forceful motion of his hips.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “You’re fucking perfect.” He thrusts hard, a gentle kiss on your forehead contrasting it seductively, then begins picking up his pace. He rests his face in the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking on it as he pounds repeatedly into you.

You’re gripping him tightly to stay in position, your arms and legs tense around him. You can’t move much, but his movements are enough for the both of you, especially as he brings his knees up a bit to get a new angle. He’s hitting your spot with almost every thrust, and you’re whining in pleasure in time with each. You squeeze hard around him, not just your arms and legs but the soft walls around his cock as well, and he groans animalistically into your skin. His hips stutter in response, but a moment later he’s pounding rhythmically again.

His breathing gets heavier, his muscles tighter, and with a broken gasp, he shifts sideways a bit to snake his hand between you to where you’re connected. He rubs harshly on your clit, not bothering to start slow, clearly aware he doesn’t have time for that. His hips piston even faster; his hand presses harder, and a few seconds later, you feel fit to burst. You let out a yell as you release around him, the most intense orgasm of your life making you see white stars.

“Sirius,” you half yell, half sigh. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Fuck, fuck. Where do you want me to?” he rushes out, his hips still moving fast in and out of you. You tighten your legs around him, and clench your cunt, pulling him into you. “Inside, Siri. Cum in me.” His immediate groan sounds strangled as you feel the warmth of him inside you. The words “cold fire” play in your mind. He thrusts a few more times then goes limp on top of you, panting loudly, kissing your neck and cheek between heavy breaths.

He rolls off but stays close, never fully breaking contact with you, and he wraps his arm around your waist, lightly stroking your back, as you both lie on your sides facing each other. You feel the urge to cover yourself up but resist it, trying to melt into the vulnerability. The utter adoration in his eyes when you look into them helps.

“I love you,” you whisper. He smiles a smile that makes his stormy eyes shine, leans in, and kisses you tenderly.

“And I love you,” he says matter-of-factly, his voice smooth and sappy.

You pause, contemplating, reveling in the joy of the moment but unable to ignore a tug in your stomach. “I’m sorry I was too… I don’t know, scared? to really show you before.”

“Don’t be, darling. I’m sorry I waited so long to really show you too, but I’m even more sorry if I ever made you doubt how much I do, how loved you are.” “You didn’t.” You shake your head then nuzzle his nose with yours. “I just sometimes didn’t understand. It’s confusing, how someone like you can love someone like me so much.” “Darling. It’s the least confusing thing in the world. You’re the most beautiful person I know. In all kinds of ways. And I’ll show you every day you’ll have me; you’ll see it clearly too; I’m sure of it. I’m just worried when you do, you’ll realise the real wonder is you loving me.” He laughs a bit, but you can hear the truth to his concern, his own insecurities surfacing.

You stroke his cheek, kiss him, and say, “We’ll both keep showing each other then. For always.” His smile is subtle, full of love.

He nods, kisses you again, pulls you into his body, and, hugging you close, repeats, “For always.”

P.S. notes: I try to keep my reader character inclusive, and this is a bit more specific than I usually do. I just want to acknowledge that everyone relates to their bodies, especially if they’re bigger, in different ways, and I in no way think of anything I write as a generalized take on being plus sized (or any other experience really). These are just things that I have felt in my life, and it has always meant a lot to me to see and hear stories about bigger characters, both when attention is brought to that specific aspect about them and when it isn’t. So, this is my way of adding to that and to write something for myself in that vein.

#marauders #marauder x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black one shot #smut #fluff #angst #friends to lovers #plus size!reader #fem!reader #reader insert #david bowie #ria250 #fanfiction

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fizzyxcustard · 2 years ago

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Drabble nugget:

You suddenly wake up to a foreign place. In terror, you jump out of the bed, look around the room and see you’re in a castle. The bed you’ve been sleeping in was the most comfortable you’ve ever felt, but where the hell are you?

“Let’s hope for your sake that they can solve the labyrinth in 13 hours.” The voice was silky and wrapped around you.

A man stood by the door. He must have literally appeared out of thin air, as he was not there when you initially looked. Blonde, spiky hair. Flamboyant robes. Glitter swishing around him. This could only be one person: the Goblin King.

Who the fuck had wished you away?

#labyrinth #Jareth the Goblin King #David Bowie #Drabble #The Goblin King #Reader insert

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anne-chloe · 2 years ago

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Trust Me | One |

Jareth/Goblin King x F!Reader

Summary: As Sarah's next door neighbour, you're often Mrs Williams' last resort as a babysitter. Sarah had never liked this, but she can be extremely unreliable at times. One stormy night, Sarah grows frustrated with her baby brother and babysitter, resulting in saying a phrase that she later wants to take back. Now, you are stuck in The Goblin Kings realm with little hope to returning home again, unless Sarah can reach the castle and defeat Jareth in time.

The rain started to roll in from outside. It was peaceful; windy, cold weather that only made you snuggle into the blanket further while you continued to read through your book.

Protected by the warmth of your house, you sighed gratefully and continued to delve into the exciting world of The Hobbit. You'd be partial to reading it at first, but after much encouragement from your local librarian, you caved.

Then, an abrupt knock disturbed your peace. You dog-eared the page and placed the book down, now approaching the door with curiosity of who would be visiting you during such furious, bitter rain. You opened the door, surprised to see your neighbour wrapped in a coat, her formal dress poking from underneath.

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Williams?" You asked in worry, eyes flickering towards her fully lit house to the right. Nothing seemed out of place, which only deepened your curiosity.

Mrs. Williams tried to hide her scowl, but you were rather attentive and caught it immediately. She shivered from the cold, and you were about to invite her inside to the warmth before she began explaining why she had knocked so late into the evening.

"My husband and I are going out for dinner, and Sarah is supposed to be babysitting Tobey. She's late. I was wondering if you'd step in and look after Tobey tonight, and Sarah too once she finally shows up."

This didn't come as a surprise to you.

Sarah was always returning home later than she had promised her parents. Because of this, Mrs. Williams constantly pulled her hair from frustration; you'd offered a couple times in the past so the couple could be free to enjoy their social evenings together. Mrs. Williams was kind and always made sure to pay you fairly for your troubles, even though you assured her that it was fine.

"Yes, that won't be a problem. Let me grab my shoes and I'll be right over."

Mrs. Williams left and you departed to find your shoes. With the weather being so drizzly, you weren't going to risk darting across the garden in your slippers like you had previously done in the past. Not only that, but you'd rather not drag mud into Mrs. Williams' pristine home. You knew from experience of how frustrating it was to try and scrub dried and wet mud from the cream carpets.

You slipped on your running shoes and exited the house. You'd left a note in the kitchen for your own parents once they returned from work, so they would know where you had vanished to. Then, you made your way to the Williams' home quickly, a thin jacket pulled over your head to protect you from the weather in your extremely brief journey.

The door was already unlocked, just as Mrs. Williams had promised, and so you let yourself straight in as you usually did. Both Mr and Mrs. Williams were gathered in the foyer, touching up the final pieces of their outfits.

Mrs. Williams swarmed over to you and wrapped you into a thankful embrace. You returned it and released a small laugh. "Thank you for this, [Name], I'm so grateful that we can always count on you to be there for Sarah and Tobey."

You pulled away, your hands holding Mrs. Williams' calloused hands gently. You gave a reassuring squeeze. "Of course. I absolutely adore caring for Tobey, and Sarah can be a delight once the conversation is favourable to her."

Yourself and Sarah didn't always see eye-to-eye. In Mrs. Williams' eyes, you were the perfect example of how Sarah should act and behave. You were always punctual and never without a kind word spoken for anyone. Unlike Sarah, who despised Tobey, her annoying step-brother who consumed all the attention and, therefore, affection.

Despite this, you held no grudge for Sarah. She was simply a hormonal 15 year old with a deeply rooted passion for theatre; while you were a 19 year old with simple aspirations for life. You were a fresh-faced, young adult with the world ahead of you, and yet you idolised your parents marriage and desired for a love life so similar.

Mr and Mrs. Williams then swiftly departed with minimal instructions, seeing as how you babysat Tobey and Sarah frequently. There weren't many house rules that you needed to remember, as a lot of them were similar to your own. They were reasonable—don't make a mess, clean up after yourself, be respectful, and don't go in their bedroom.

You waved Mr and Mrs Williams' away and closed the door once they were out of sight. Then, you headed up the stairs and down the hall to Tobey's bedroom, where he was awake and smiling fondly from his crib.

You reached in and pulled him out, tapping your finger playfully against his little button nose. He squealed in delight and nuzzled into your warmth, and your heart melted at the motion. It would be a dream for you to have a child one day, and if they were as wonderful as Tobey then you'd be satisfied.

"What shall we do this evening?" You asked Tobey with a curious hum. You gently patted his bum as you held him, taking note of how red his eyebrows were and how droopy his eyes had become. "Perhaps we should settle you to sleep."

And so you lay him down in your arms with one of the many picture books from his room, then settled yourself into the comfy rocking chair across from his crib. You skilfully opened the book with one hand and began to read to Tobey.

Within seconds, his eyes fluttered shut and his soft snores filled your ears. You placed the book onto the shelf next to you and continued to rock Tobey for a little while longer before settling him down into the crib. You placed a bear into his hand and tucked a blanket under his arms, then you stroked his head and blew him a loving kiss.

You slipped out of the room and closed the door with a soft click. Then, you headed downstairs and into the kitchen, where you began making yourself a cup of tea. You made your way into the lounge and cosied yourself onto the sofa, flicking on the TV and searching through some of the channels.

The door opened half an hour later, the rain only getting heavier, with Sarah dripping wet and her shoes thick with mud. You jumped up to greet her, a smile lighting your face, but Sarah's immediate scowl caused you to freeze in the doorway.

"Let me get you a towel," you offered, gesturing to her dripping hair, which clung to the sides of her face. You entered the downstairs bathroom and pulled out a fresh, clean towel, then you headed back to Sarah where she kicked off her shoes in the foyer. You tried not to grimace at the mud that was now stained into the beautiful carpet.

You approached Sarah and held out the towel for her to take. "Here."

Sarah huffed and practically snatched the towel from your hands. You retracted your hands awkwardly and lingered next to her as she roughly began drying her hair. "Why are you still here?" Sarah asked as she lowered the towel, her 'thank you' nonexistent.

You tried not to frown, but your lips twitched at the abruptness of her words. "Mrs Williams asked me to stay until they returned home later. I won't be a bother. I'll just care for Tobey and stay out of your way. You won't even notice I'm here unless you need me."

Sarah nodded slowly. It was obvious that she was trying to not feel overstepped with her babysitting abilities, but at the same time she was grateful that she didn't have to think about Tobey for the night. This way, it meant she could continue with her passions and read through the play she'd been hooked into.

Without another word spoken, Sarah handed you back the towel and headed up the stairs. You watched and sighed heavily as she disappeared, her door slamming loudly throughout the house. You flinched at the noise, paused and waited for Tobey to wake up and start crying, but the quiet continued much to your relief.

You immediately placed the dirtied towel into the laundry basket and set to work gathering cleaning supplies to clean the mud from the foyer. You pulled on some marigold gloves and began scrubbing, watching with a slight grimace as the mud barely started to lift from the carpet. It was such a thick carpet, meaning it absorbed 90% of everything; that didn't mean you were going to half-arse the task and leave a smear, you'd have it spotless by the time you were done.

You didn't need Mr and Mrs Williams returning home to mud on their carpet. It would only cause an argument between them and Sarah, and you knew Sarah was having enough troubles with her emotions as it was; she didn't need the added pressure like this.

Then, breaking your thought and task, Tobey's cry rang out from upstairs. You immediately pulled off the gloves and left them on the floor, by the bowl of warm water and cleaning fluids. You hastily hurried up the stairs to get to Tobey before his cries could disturb Sarah.

However, you were startled to see Sarah already standing in the room, towering above Tobey with one of her collection bears clutched in her hand. She glared down at the infant child, spewing words of hatred at him.

You pushed yourself in front of Tobey and scooped him up from the crib, holding him in a loving embrace to give him the reassurance that he very much needed.

"Sarah," you said in exasperation, "why did you wake Tobey up? He was fast asleep—"

"He stole Lancelot!" Sarah interrupted harshly, pointing an accusing finger at Tobey.

You gently caressed his head and began gently bouncing him in your arms. His cries began to calm into the occasional whimper. You tried not to get angry with Sarah and her accusations; how could a baby steal something from another room? He couldn't even walk properly yet!

"He didn't steal your bear," you corrected, "Mrs Williams probably gave it to him for comfort. I don't understand what the big deal is. You could have taken it back without waking him up."

Sarah let out a bitter laugh. She threw her hands in frustration and began moving towards the door. Then, she paused. Her shoulders went stiff, and slowly she turned around to face you again, something dark crossing her face.

You shifted uncomfortably at the expression.

Then, she began to chant something absurd and lyrical. "Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be: take this child and its keeper far away from me!"

You blinked rapidly, flinching as thunder crackled n the sky behind you. You whipped around, watching as the wind somehow forced the bedroom windows open. You scurried over to them and closed them fast with one hand, double-checking that the lock was securely in place to prevent it from happening again.

Outside the window, you saw an owl sitting ominously on the branch in the tree. It flapped its wings in the wind, and you automatically moved away from the window as lightning flashed in the sky.

You turned to face Sarah, feeling hurt by her words. Surely she didn't actually want some fictional character to come and steal her neighbour and brother away? But the seriousness on her face only confirmed the cruelness of her word.

Tobey began crying loudly again. You attempted to calm him while confronting Sarah. "You don't mean that," you said, frowning as heart spread throughout your chest, "I understand you're angry and upset, but there's no need to—"

"I wish the Goblins would take you far away from me. Right. Now."

Sarah spun around and fled the room, slamming the door shut behind her. You flinched and held Tobey closer, bouncing him and shooshing him as best as you could while you felt so upset yourself. You'd just have to settle Tobey and then try and have a civil conversation with Sarah without her—

—A shadow moved quickly from the corner of your eye. You turned around to look at it, only to see that nothing was there. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of a rat or rodent residing in Tobey's bedroom. So, despite him still crying loudly, you placed him into his crib where he was safe, and you gently stepped over to the spot where you had seen something move.

You pushed the rocking chair to the side. You moved the curtain. You looked down the side of the changing table. There was nothing to see; no holes, no scratches; no sign of a rodent or any evidence that there ever was one.

You chuckled to yourself in relief. You weren't a fan of rats and creatures so small; their little teeth frightened you. Who knows how you would have reacted if there had actually been a creature there?

Adding on to your settling fright, the bedroom lights flickered rapidly before suddenly going out. You glanced up at the dead bulb, then curiously to the window where the thunder continued to boom loudly. You chewed your lip in frustration, now knowing you'd have to deal with a power outage, an angry teenager and a crying baby.

A crying baby.

The quietness of the room suddenly dawned on you. You looked over to Tobey's crib, dread washing over you at the abrupt silence.

Why wasn't he crying anymore?

"Tobey?" You whispered, unsure of yourself. It was possible that he had fallen asleep, but Tobey was the type of baby that needed help in doing so. You started to step slowly towards the crib, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, goosebumps forming along your arms.

You peered into the crib.

It was empty.

Your chest tightened in panic. You stumbled back and rapidly glanced around the room in search for Tobey. But he wasn't there. There was no sign of him anymore. You breathed heavily and immediately made your way to the door, questioning the reality of the situation.

Perhaps Sarah had taken him when you weren't looking? But why would she have come back after storming away like that? Did she feel guilty for the things she said?

You reached the door and twisted the handle. It wouldn't open. You twisted again. And again. Only to be met with the same results. Tears filled your eyes as the panic really started to settle in, and then you found yourself pounding your fist against the door to try and catch Sarah's attention. You even started calling her name.

Did she lock you in? No, there wasn't a keyhole in the door to begin with, how could she possibly do that? And the door opened inwards, meaning stacking something from the outside wouldn't trap you effectively.

Maybe, just maybe, there was some sort of reasonable explanation for all of this.

After another minute of pulling and pushing at the door, you decided to try and escape through the window. It was your best bet at getting back into the main area of the house, where you could begin your search for Tobey again.

You froze immediately, now suddenly aware of the person sitting and swaying in the rocking chair. Your breath hitched in your throat, your mind overwhelmed with the thought that somebody had broken into the house and was watching you quietly in the corner.

You didn't dare speak a word, afraid of what would happen if you tried to make a noise.

"Sarah," the person, a man, suddenly called out. You tensed at the name, wondering how much of you he had observed. Had you just placed Sarah in danger? Now that this man knew Sarah was also here, surely he'd hurt you first and then go after her.

"Sarah!"

Confusion settled in as he continued to repeat Sarah's name, like he was some sort of parrot. The way he said her name, in a desperate tone, as if he were calling her name in hopes that she would come and help. Then it dawned on you that he was mocking you. He had heard you call Sarah for help, and now he was rubbing salt in the wound that Sarah must be actively ignoring you.

You tried to summon your courage, but found that your entire body shuddered in fear. Still, you resolved yourself enough to be able to squeak out a pathetic: "who are you?"

It's not the question you truly wanted to ask. You were in despair of where Tobey had vanished off to. You were desperate to know why Sarah hadn't answered your frightened yells. But it's the question that you managed to ask.

He stood slowly from the rocking chair, now rising above you in height. You had to tilt your head back to see his full length, and you gasped at the fact that he had at least a head difference. You tried to swallow your fear, but you knew you weren't brave enough to do so.

He reached out, his fingers tucking underneath your chin in such a delicate way. He caressed your neck as though you were fragile, as if you would break if he prodded you too hard. You tried not to shiver as his fingers traced your jaw.

"I am Jareth, The Goblin King, and I have come to take you away."

The Goblin King. Your mind instantly raced back to the plea that Sarah had spoken earlier that night, the one where she begged that fictional entity to come and steal away Tobey and yourself. Though, you were starting to feel as though her plea may have truly reached the ears of The Goblin King, and that your fear wasn't just playing a cruel joke on you.

"Take me away?" You repeated dumbly, your mind going blank at the very thought.

Take you to where?

You managed to tilt your head away from Jareth, your eyes trailing towards the bedroom door. "But... Sarah..."

Jareth gently guided your head back to face him, and you allowed him to do so, feeling rather useless and weak in his presence. "But, Sarah," he openly mocked, his twisted smile reaching his dark, sparkling eyes. "Sarah is the one who wished for this, and I cannot ignore it."

Then, the room began to morph around you. The walls curled inwards, the furniture cracked and groaned. You remained perfectly still as this change occurred, unsure and too frightened to truly try and flee.

"Good girl," Jareth whispered, his head leaning down so he could whisper in your ear. "You must be tired..."

You weren't feeling tired before, but with all the emotions now washing away, you definitely felt the fatigue creeping in. You blinked slowly, sensing that the drowsiness was more than just your body craving sleep; this must be some strange effect that Jareth was having on you.

Then, you felt your body lean forward, your head pressing into Jareth's shoulder. His arms encircled your body, trapping your frame against his. And as you closed your eyes, letting sleep consume you, you heard him cackle loudly.

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idjitlili · 4 years ago

Text

Lurking in the dark.

Not my gif.

Summary: Jareth uses a disguise to lurk around you before the Labyrinth like he did with Sarah, as an owl. Until you accidentally wish away your dog.

Warnings:mentions of tight pants. Mentions of feeling lonely.First smut...you’ve been warned, well just oral, and a handjob.

Word count:4325

A/n: low-key based in my home country, ah yes England.

Y/d/n=your dogs name, or change it to cat or fake pet.

Though you weren't 16, like Sarah, being an adult, Jareth felt pulled to you. No, he was not a pervert, times were different. Maybe it was your love of your dog, maybe it's how lonesome you felt, that dog unknowingly brought hope into your life. Yes you did love your family, but sometimes you just got lonely.

Maybe it was your love of films, you could watch your favourite film a million times, yet feel so invested into watching it again. Maybe it was your stack of books, some you already had ,which were your favourite,but had gotten pocket editions or ones with different covers.

How Jareth had found you, well that was a different question, not him dressing down , changing his hair to place the labyrinth in difference book stores , illegally. Yes, that was how he had found you,when he had done that. Soon he had figured out, you regularly went to the book store, after following you home in his owl form.

This particular day had been most stressful, though the rain was calming, being drenched to the point your underwear were soaked, not like that. Frozen, you just wanted to get to Waterstones before they shut, practically running. Not only wanting to get there but also get home quick too.

Rushing into the store , the door closing behind you, the warm air embracing your freezing body, you just hoped you wouldn't get in trouble for being soaked in here. It wasn't like you were going to wipe your clothes on all the books , ruining them.

Then, of course more problems occurred; you could not for the life of you find a book you desired. Sighing , you pushed your dripping hair from your face, you could only imagine how bad you looked in that moment.

Yet, you had continued your search, with no luck until a man had cleared his throat from next to you.

His hair clearly blond from his roots, the rest a light red colour almost ginger but not. His eyes bright blue, yet it seemed like he had heterochromia, aswell as larger pupil in his left eye. His cheekbones highly defined, his body skinny, overall the man was very handsome.

Turning to face the man, highly embarrassed by your state. "If you don't mind-" this is when you thought you was going to be asked to leave, your stomach dropped. "-hearing my suggestion." Okay, that still found like he was going to ask you to leave, but his voice wasn't aggressive. "...okay?" You weren't sure what to say, only letting out a quiet word.

The man had reached up to the shelf above you , pulling down a small red book, so he wasn't kicking you out. His pale hand gently holding the book in front of you, 'The labyrinth.' You had taken the book from him, to look for a summary , yet there wasn't one, nor a publisher or an author name.

"You take that home,on me, if you don't like bring it back."

"W-wait, you d-" You didn't know this man, you felt guilty getting it for nothing, but he had interrupted you. "You've had a long day,clearly, now go get home,y/n" The man simply placed his hands on his hips waiting, his words followed out like water, turning to go do whatever he was doing.

"W-wait." He had spun around , his eyes looked at you in slight annoyance, hurrying you up. "What's your name?"

"Ziggy." You had looked at you watch at the same time, before looking back at the man- but he was gone. Thus, you left. Hold on , how did he know your name?

Not spotting the owl, that stood on the lamp post watching you...

You had begun reading the book , as soon as you had gotten out of your soaking clothes , into warm ones. You wondered how Jareth could like a girl with no sense, no you didn't , you thought why she wearing her baby brother hat.

Yet, your dog would not allow you to sit in peace, shoving their toy under the cupboard making you get up and get it otherwise they wouldn't stop crying, or eating all their food and scratching for more. Then, they had knocked your drink everywhere with their toy.

Groaning in annoyance , for the hundredth time. "You know if the Goblin king was real, y/d/n, I'd wish for him to take you for a time out." Of course you handed read that far you didn't know what would really happen to him..

"You know what, I'll just say it, just in case. I wish the goblins would take you away, right now." A crack of thunder had made you jump out of your skin turning towards it , before turning back hearing scratching on the floor, to see nothing, by this time it's pitch black, only light from a small lamp is seen , your dog is gone.

Suddenly the door crashes open, an owl flies in , before turning into a man. Not that you could see him much. "Uhm, I mean thanks for taking my dog for a time out , but uh thats dognapping, so.." He had only laughed loudly.

From what you you could see his hair was a huge blond mullet, there was glitter everywhere, and those pants...

"What's said is said."

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" That wasn't legal, he had broken into your home and stole your dog.

"I have brought you a gift, it's a crystal, nothing more. but if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams. but this is not a gift for an ordinary girl who takes care of the dog.....do you want it? then forget the dog." You had scoffed at him, you could go ebay and get a crystal ball, who was this wannabe Gandalf?

"Sorry, no, I would like my dog." The king, looked disappointed with your answer, did he believe that would really work?

"don't defy me." His voice stern , as he threw a snake at you , but completely missed, coughing out a small laugh, as the man pretended it never happened.

"Y-you're no match for me."

"Stop with all the talk, how can I get y/d/n back?" With that , he had gestured you to come to the window, a huge maze could be seen, well labyrinth, instead of the dark sky. Turning back to Jareth, you realised you were no longer in your room, but outside the labyrinth.

"So, how does this work?" You could clearly see the man now, known as Jareth , the Goblin king, his eyes seemed very familiar, left pupil bigger than the right. He had pointed to a 13 hours clock, that had appeared.

"You have 13 hours in which to solve the labyrinth , and reach my castle, before your dog becomes one of us forever, such a pity." And boom he was a gone, not much to work from.

Now finding away into the labyrinth, indeed that seemed easy, of course it wasn't, no entrances , you thought of the only thing you could do... Climb the wall. By the time you had gotten over , there stood Jareth in the tight pants.

"You know, there was a door. This shall be your only warning." Poof he was gone again, if you continued climbing walls maybe you'd have to compliment his pants. Next time put a bloody door.

Though you had no idea what in gods earth you was doing, you just decided to head straight forward as you could, thus to get to the castle quicker. Not going one away and ending going through the side door out of the labyrinth.

As you could expect, Jareth was not very happy that you were travelling through his labyrinth, like it was your house. In fact, he was angered, so much , that he wanted to pick you up, as if you were a rag doll and dump you to the start. Then again, you’d just go twice as fast through.

So, there sat Jareth on his throne, with your dog upon his lap, his little whip thing in hand. Suit up Jareth, your not Indiana Jones. Staring into the crystal ball, unable to think.

The fact you had gotten passed the sausage dogs without a second thought pushed Jareth over the edge... He had attempted to jump scare you, but of course it had went south. Jareth rarely had anyone not beat the Labyrinth, and honestly you’d think he would’ve improved it.

Jareth hadn’t spoken in your presence, to inform you that he was there, instead he had placed a hand onto your shoulder. What he was not expecting was you to turn around at sonic speed, punching him square in the face.

Stumbling back, him his boots, holding his now bloody nose, he had let out a yelp in surprise. He did not expect that, not at all.

You had reached some sort of lake, with a path down to a small house, when you had punched Jareth anyways.

After you had seen that it was Jareth that you had punched, who else would it be, guilty travelled up your body suffocating you. Almost instantly you had rushed to Jareth, ripping part of the end of your t-shirt, bringing the fabric to his nose. Pulling his bloody hand from his nose, with a harsh grip, since he lead stiff.

Your face was sweating, not only were you scared that he might kill you, but also you had felt bad for him, after the numerous times he had checked up on you. You wondered if he ever spoke to anyone other than the Goblins, you wondered if he could even leave this place without being wished.

Gripping his sharp jaw to move his face, allowing you to make get a better look at the bleeding, keeping the fabric to his nose, soaking all the blood up. You didn’t even know Faes bled.

“J-Jareth, I’m so sorry! You made me jump, I swear I didn’t do it on purp-“ Jareth liked the contact, the anger he felt before had slipped away, your soft fingers upon his skin, your favourite t-shirt now ruined as you had sacrificed it for his nose. Oh, and he knew that was your favourite shirt.

Your pleading e/c eyes staring into his mismatched ones, made both of your hearts beat fast than moments before. It almost made him forget why you were here; but when he did remember his eyes returned harsh. You only felt bad because you were frightened, he knew you’d leave him soon as you had beaten his labyrinth.

Oh how wrong he was.

Pulling away rudely, using his magic to pull a clock out of no where, using his gloved had to skip it forward three hours, smirking. Fake smirking, the quicker this ends the better, he could not bare to fall in love with a silly human girl again, just to be rejected.

Your eyes widened in confusion, your torn end of your t-shirt still in your hand, bloodied. “W-what?” 6 hours left.

Poof Jareth was gone yet again, oh and how he had some plans for you. Stood in brief shock of what had just occurred, trying to forget the tingles that had erupted down your hand, throughout your whole body, like electric shocks. Shaking it off, like you were about to warm up for pe , just like high school. Ew.

You had continued down the path, to the small house, and within minutes you had reached it. Didn’t seem like there was away around, only way was through.

Thankfully, it was unlocked, allowing you straight in. Only for it to slam close behind you, you didn’t think of anything of it, all you could think about in this moment was how your stomach was growling loudly.

The rag now placed into your back pocket, as you searched the tiny kitchen for anything, coming across an overly large strawberry, you didn’t even think before you had devoured it.

In that moment you heard it the door clicked, you had rushed to it testing it, locked, of course. Your feet now suddenly soaking wet , gulping you had looked down the floor covered in soapy water, rising dangerously. Surely he would not kill you?

All the windows now sealed shut, no upstairs , only the chimney , thankfully wide as. You did the only thing you could, your stomach turning, feeling light headed, the water reaching your knees.

You got in it, but the walls were too slippery so you held your breath just as the water got above your shoulders. Swimming up the chimney with the water, not full breast stroke of course, no room for that. The water pressure building at such a speed you ended up flying out the end of the chimney, no idea how that was even possible.

Then everything went black, soon entering a dream world...well no it wasn’t a dream. Now dressed in gown, at a ball, a masquerade, the room almost packed with guests with goblin like masks., all wearing big expensive gowns, or suite like attire. Loud laughter dimmed out by the loud gently music.. what.

Turning every which way, you felt like you were looking for something, just you could not recall what. A skinny man, with a bo dazzled suite, a long blond mullet with stripes of blue to match his suite, a diamond at his next instead of a tie or bow, frilly shirt. He held a similar goblin mask, only when you caught his eye he had pulled it away.

Only you and him without masks, his eyebrows with no ends, h-his strangely familiar eyes , his thin lips, you felt a strong pull towards him.

“There's such a sad love

Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel

Open and closed

Within your eyes

I'll place the sky.”

All you could do is stare at him, as the song began, mouth gapped at him, your dress that before felt heavy no felt like nothing, as he began walking towards you, through the people.

“Within your eyes

There's such a fooled heart

Beatin' so fast”

Trying to get passed the strange people, to get him, he simply danced with other people that already had partners, I mean, like pressed up against the partners.

“In search of new dreams

A love that will last

Within your heart

I'll place the moon

Within your heart

As the pain sweeps through.” He didn’t even try to get to you as you chased after him, these strange people suffocating you, getting in your way on purpose.

“Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone.” Then he was gone, your eyes searched the room, not seeing him hidden behind a fan behind you, continued your search. As he smirked behind you, oh how he couldn’t stop feeling the way he did about you, he thought it was funny how now you chased him instead of the other way around.

“Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down.” He had continued making his way through the people, in direct view , as you searched still.

“Falling

As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love.” Squeezing through the people, feeling panicked, you had no idea what was happening, nor why you felt like this for a strange man, shoving pushed the people that circled you.

“I'll paint you mornings of gold

I'll spin you Valentine evenings though we're strangers 'til now.” You had found him, as a fan moved, he stood sandwiched by two woman.

“We're choosing the path

Between the stars

I'll leave my love

Between the stars” Only then did he come towards you,his face should no emotion, you wondered how you had gotten here. Now with a mans hand out waist and the other in his hand as you danced.

“As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all.” You couldn’t remember knowing how to dance, but you and Jareth done turns in sync with all the other dancers, staring deeply into his mismatched pupils.

“But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down

Falling” Jareth-how did you now know his name, now singing along, wow self loving much , who plays their own music. He had every right. Only then, did you feel yourself leaning to his lips.

“As the world falls down

Falling

As the world falls down.”

Jareth had noticed, leaning towards you as well, you felt your lips connect to his soft ones, as your eyes closed. That’s all it took for your remove your hands from his shoulder and hand bringing them up into his blond hair. Pulling his face towards yours, not allowing yourself to disconnect from him, you both had stopped dance at this point.

His arms now around your waist pulling you both closer together again, one of your hand now cupping his cheek, as you both kissed. Pulling away for a second to breathe, before pressing your lips against his again harshly this time, biting his lip hard, he had almost jumped, letting out a yelp, only then were you able insert your tongue into his mouth.

You both had long forgotten the people that surrounded you both. Jareths grip now tightened, your tongue fighting against his. Only until he had pulled your hair, pulling you from him lips, your eyes slammed shut, your hands now against his clothed chest, as he pressed kisses down your bare neck. A small moan had escaped your mouth, your hand travelling down to his pants. “Can I?” Jareth had looked into your eyes, his other pupil now almost reaching the same size as his other, nodding.

You hand cupping, his manhood, his pulse heightened under your touch, Jareth had groaned loudly, his bulging member against your palm, as Jareths hips had pushed against your hand for friction. Jareth now sucking harshly at your neck, rubbing your hand against him.

You had forgotten about the room full off people;but Jareth had definitely not, he did not want to take you in front of them, at this moment he didn’t care, he had not had pleasure in a very long time. Leaving your neck, Jareth had joined your lips again, biting your already swollen bottom lips, returning to sloppy small kisses, you had wished that Jareth had picked a less poofy dress.

Your hands leaving Jareths body, he had let out a small sigh, he had thought you had remembered, especially when you began to lift the bottom the dress. Only then did you notice the people, wide eye, but they were still dancing, even if they were looking, Jareth touch was intoxicating.

Your calf’s now on show, almost touching Jareth again, how starred down at you confused, as you looked up at him with a small grin, lifting your leg up and over hip. Instantly he had gripped the soft skin under your thigh, your dress now bunched up to your waist, as you wrapped your arms around Jareths neck.

Pressing your clothes core against, his bulging, your core soaking through, jumping up, so that both of your legs were now wrapped tightly against Jareth. Your lips on his, his hands travelling up your legs slowly, all the way to your waist again, wet kisses as your hips began to rock against Jareths stone member. Your stomach turning into knots against him.

Your clit pulsating against him, undoubtedly he could feel it too, your speed quickly increase, pushed Jareth over the edge with a loud groan, you were pressed against the stone floor. Still, you grinned harshly against him, his hands now either side of your head, his only your upper back against the floor.

Looking into his hungry eyes, pleading for him to do something, stopping your hip movements . “J-Jareth, a-are you sure we should do this here? W-with these people?” Jareth had only smirked at you lowering himself to your ear level. “Love, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed about, plus they can only see when I want them too, understand?” Whispering into your ear, that must be why they didn’t even look your way.

“Now, I must ask, do you want this? Definitely?” His face not inches from yours, his eyes searched yours. “Yes, please.” With that Jareth had unwrapped your legs from him, tearing the bottom of the dress, he was a very skinny man, it was a shame ‘twas a lovely dress. Only your underwear covered you bottom half now, your heels now discarded.

Snapping your legs closed in embarrassment, Jareth had lifted your leg by your calf pressed gently pecks all the way up, till he got your thigh, his eyes meeting yours as you sat up on your elbows, you had nodded at him, anyone would’ve been nervous, especially a virgin.

His lips now reattached to your soft skin on your thigh, gently he had pulled your legs apart , your heat had already been dripping from just kissing, but now it was a river. A snap of his fingers and your underwear were gone.

Jareths face now dangerously close, your whole lower parts on show to him, he had grinned up at you, his hot breath on your most sensitive area, sent chills through your core... literally. Jareth had groaned just feeling your thighs shake in his hands, his erection now painfully restricted.

With that he had slid his tongue up your folds one, letting out a gasp, you hadn’t been touched like this ever. He had brought a single figure to plunge into you, swirling it around you for only a second, his other hand now holding your stomach down, from your squirming underneath him. Removing the finger, his eyes locked onto your as he slipped it into his mouth, sucking on it, before pulling his finger out of his mouth with a pop.

His face satisfied with you, whimpering , he had barely touched you, yet you were pooling already, orgasm almost there, “please...” Parting your folds, he had slowly removed eye contact, his tongue now licking you like an icecream cone, your nerves on overdrive, he had plunged his tongue into you, his hand back on your thighs, squeezing as he swirled around in you. Your legs clenching on his head, grinding into his face.

“Jareth!” Considering you were quite shy, with men anyways, the moan of his name, caused Jareth to tighten his grip, tongue from your opening, he rolled your clit gently between his teeth, you hand cried out, your legs thrown over his shoulders, you could feel your orgasm coming. Pulling tightly at his long hair for more, a loud growl had erupted from his mouth, travelling through you, your stomach tightening.

So close to satisfaction, “J-Jareth..” His tongue had attached back onto your clit, bringing his fingers close to you, one of your legs still on his shoulder, the other leg, he had placed against the stone floor, spreading your legs widely, so that he could insert his finger into you. Your back now curved from the floor, adding two more fingers into your wet opening.

Sweat upon your face, like drops of rain water, allowing you a moment to adjust, Jareth had began to his fingers into you, his mouth detached, faster, and faster by the second. Spreading his fingers in you, you couldn’t hang on any longer. Your legs now shaking like hurricane, Jareth knew you was close, your head thrown back, as you finally met your orgasm.

Removing his fingers, as the please hit you like wrecking ball, throughout our lower half, you had let out a loud moan of pleasure. Your hips finally buckled , riding your orgasm in Jareths face. Panting heavily, Jareth had looking up , wiping the remaining of your juices on his palm.

“J-Jareth?” He now laid next to you, how was he still fully clothed? He had hummed in response. “C-can we just start with that for now,” You were worried, that he’d get angry, but instead he had just looked at you with a gently smile. “Of course, love.” Then you noticed, his painfully erected member, bringing your hand to his bulge rubbing him again, groaning in surprise.

“I-I’ve never done anything like this.” Jareth only nodded, as you stroked him through his pants, he wasn’t going to take your virginity not like this. He was a good man- fae sorry, he took all those children from people that didn’t want them. Shouldn’t be thinking about this right now.

Slipping you hand into Jareths pants, you stroked him harshly, rubbing the his tip gently with your thumb when you reached it, before repeating the cycle. Jareths lips upon yours , you could still taste yourself on him. Quickening your pace, soon enough his he had bitten down roughly onto your lip, as he came.

Yet again, you were both laying on the floor, laying your shoulders on his arm, that wrapped around you laying in his chest.

“Can I have my dog back? I mean- if you let me go back, you could come too, o-only if you want to anyways?” You had stuttered out your words , causing Jareth to laugh at you, he had a feeling you still remembered.

“Of course.”

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