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ofthelabyrinth · 3 years

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the laws of fae

As I do have a few new partners who have expressed both an interest in and a confusion with the laws of fae, I figured I would take a quick moment to outline some of the bigger ones and how they apply to my particular Jareth. Please, feel free to ask after anything that confuses or otherwise intrigues you!

Never tell a faerie your real, full name. Names are powerful things: more than mere identifiers, they are, in some sense, the key to the soul. One legend says that the popularity of middle names arose as a tactic for dealing with tricky Fae: by having a name you seldom use and do not normally divulge, you had an out from becoming a faerie’s thrall! Knowing your full name gives a faerie control over you, sometimes literally and sometimes figuratively. For the sake of this blog, that power is literal, and is put into effect any time Jareth says your muse’s full name and a direct command. They may conscious and attempting to stop it, but saying the name seals an ancient Fae contract and allows Jareth control of your muse’s body. THE EXCEPTION TO THE LAW. If your muse has been placed in a situation where they no longer identify with their name--if they are trans, for example, of refuse some part of a former identity for other reasons, only the name they recognize as being theirs in their heart will have power over them. It’s all about naming conventions and time frames: the convention for your naming is what gives it the power. In our current society, chosen names are more respected than given ones, meaning the name your muse chooses as theirs is the only one with power over it. To offer a counter and a further exception to the law, let’s consider Jareth. In my mind, faerie naming conventions are based on the name the child is given at birth. Jareth was not given a name before being ushered away into the Goblin Kingdom, where he assumed the role of the previous babe before him--technically even then, he was not GIVEN the name “Jareth.” Therefore, although he uses the name, his name will only offer power over him in some verses/moments, when he is feeling particularly connected to his kingdom. THE WORKAROUND. Never introduce yourself with “My name is” or answer a faerie without preamable when asked what it is. You can say “I am called” or “you can call me” or even “I go by,” but NEVER announce your name! Lying might seem like a smart alternative, but it is not. It’s considered terribly rude and any affront to a faerie is an opening they can take advantage of.

Be very, very, VERY polite. The Fae are creatures of old and will take any slight against their person as a reason to incite a grudge, curse, or debt upon you--especially if you’re “only a mortal,” and thereby likely both younger AND from a younger race than them. THE WORKAROUND. Being polite to a faerie is going to be a lot of dancing around on your end, though, because of certain linguistic ticks listed below. The best way to be polite? Keep refusals to a minimum and make them sound very nice, and then flatter the fuck out of the faerie who made the offer. The more aware Fae, like Jareth, might string you along when they realize what you’re doing, but most Fae will walk away happy if you just flatter their ego and think nothing of it.

No matter how tempting it is, never accept a faerie gift. The measure of acceptance varies according to the mythology at play, but the staples of the rule are clear: if you take a faerie gift, you owe that fairie a debt, and the debt can be repaid in any way and at any time the faerie owning it so chooses. It’s definitely a lose-lose situation for you! THE WORKAROUND. Although some mythologies say not to take anything ever touched or intentionally set down by a faerie, EVER, that’s a little impractical for RP. The best way to deal with “receiving” a gift is to decline it. Also, and this is very important, a faerie just handing you something also counts as a gift! If you take it, you’ve accepted it! In order to dodge this little deception, wait for the faerie to put the item down away from them before taking it. If it’s a gift--a REAL gift--you still shouldn't touch it, But if it’s a regular old household item you were just asking them to pass you? It’s safe again once it’s left their hand and touched something else. In other words, anything announced as a gift is gonna screw you over. Anything they try to sneak to you as a “gift” can be briefly quarantined before being safe again! However, make sure to

NEVER SAY THANK YOU! “Thank you” implies a debt to the faerie, whether you doing it to be polite, to express real gratitude, or even just on reflex! Avoid faerie debts at all costs--but be polite as you do so! THE WORKAROUND. We’re back to that second workaround, folks: be kind and flatter them! Rather than saying “thank you,” tell the faerie in question that they are “very generous” or that you “appreciate” what they’ve done, even if you don’t. A lie told in politeness (as a substitute for thanking someone, for example) is seen as politeness and not a lie--but be careful! A lie told out of politeness (as a substitute for potential offense with the truth) is STILL a lie, and will absolutely land you in hot water!

Don’t eat or drink the faerie food. The reasoning is partially the debt of a favor, of course, but it’s a little more complicated than just that. Faerie food is tempting by nature and of course the Fae around you might act like eating or drinking it is no big deal, but it definitely is. For one thing, it ties you to the faerie lands--and with no power or lineage of your own, that puts you in a bad position right off the bat. For another? Some faerie foods are rumored to be sweet poisons for mortal creatures--sometimes fatal, and sometimes only damaging to your psyche. Either way, don’t risk it! THE WORKAROUND. Since this is another impracticality to deal with in an RP setting, know that the water--as long as it’s neither sweet nor sparkling!--is not a faerie food, and can be imbibed without penalty when stuck. Some breads are also considered of mortal making, although these are rarer and less likely to be seen at big events like parties. Stay sharp!

Never mention a newborn babe. Some rumors say that the Fae cannot repopulate on their own, and so must rely on kidnapped babies and changelings to keep their lineage going. Either way, letting a faerie know where a newborn baby is, or a new mother is!, can be life-threatening and will almost guarantee one or both will go missing. THE WORKAROUND. There really isn’t one: just don’t bring up a baby you don’t want to see kidnapped, and if you accidentally do, don’t reveal their age! I think it’s fairly clear at this point, but the goblins have no issues with kidnapping children of any age, and I do headcanon that Jareth makes goblins out of the babies who are so carelessly thrown his way. They are less goblinoid than natural-born goblins and grow to be more like feral children: however, very few make it to adulthood thereafter. Best not to risk it.

Never step into a faerie ring. Faerie rings are natural portals through which the Fae pass between our realm and theirs: stepping into one will transport you to the faerie world, and it isn’t always a guarantee that things will work out if you try to step through the other way! This is, again, a real non-workaround situation. Just don’t do it.

Be wary if joining a faerie dance. As well as the documented issues with faerie time versus mortal time--meaning you could dance for an hour and leave a century later than you arrived--as well as the fact that mortals can’t always keep up with a faerie dance and may well end up dying trying, there is a lesser-known danger to a faerie dance that actually persists in all of the above dangers as well. The realm of the faerie is an impossible one: impossibly beautiful, impossibly warm, impossibly inviting--impossibly cold, cruel, vicious, brutal. A mortal may well end up mesmerized by the world of the faerie, and even the most tenacious spirit may be worn away by it all and into a state of complacency. You may well never want to leave if you enter it, may never want to stop if you eat or drink of it, when you dance in it, when you feel the gifts of it. It is itself a trap, and a poison. Sometimes, even after you leave, you find you never really left it. You can’t stop thinking about it. And you die--you die trying to get back to it, or despairing that you never will, or knowing the world will never be as beautiful again, or trying to get it out of your mind. The biggest danger of the faerie world isn’t the Fae, but the world itself, and all the terrible and beautiful things it can do for you. THE WORKAROUND. Walk away. Leave it behind. Never enter it. Never speak to any part of it. Pray you are safe in your bed and will never be so haunted by such strangeness in your lifetime.

#;basis for comparison (headcanon)#;wanna live underground (lore)#outofhours #long post for ts

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imagine-loki · 6 years

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Packless Monsters

TITLE: Packless Monsters CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 42/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a werewolf who ends up in the company of Loki in the Avenger’s tower after saving Pepper’s life RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

“Darling, are you sure about this?” Loki asked as you were finishing getting ready for the fight. You were in the living room of the tower surrounded by the team. You weren’t really actively doing anything to get ready, you were already dressed in comfortable yoga pants, a sports bra, t-shirt, and hoodie, plus your gym shoes. You had to sit quietly while Nat and Clint finished working on your hair. They had done some excellently awesome braiding with your hair so it wouldn’t fall in your face or be a handhold for Jareth during the battle. They were also spraying it with so much hairspray that there was a snowball’s chance in hell that your hair was ever moving again.

While they worked, you were thoroughly distracted by a very smug god who was purposely distracting you so you didn’t worry over the fight. Smug bastard. He was doing it so…innocently too, since he was just finishing getting dressed. He had donned the shirt, pants, and shoes of his favorite all-black suit with magic, but he was enjoying teasing you, as he put on the rest the mortal way. His long, strong fingers fastened the cuff links with the fluidity of a long-practiced movement. He smirked as you watched him expertly tie his tie. Damn smug Trickster knew your love of him in formal wear and could somehow look nearly as sexy putting it on as… the other thing that you couldn’t think about right now.

“Lo, you know I have to do this now,” you reminded him, forcing your focus on things other than your boyfriend’s physique. You could see that he was more worried than he wanted to let on. “Samuel will be there to ref, but if I don’t fight Jareth now, he’ll challenge me in a less controlled way later,”

“I know, darling. I still worry. I dislike that you will be in danger I cannot help you with and likely injured,” Loki told you as he shrugged into his suit jacket. Damn sexy distracting god. At least you weren’t stressing about the fight, which had been his intention.

“Brother, why are you dressed as a witch for this event?” Thor asked, concerned.

“Hey!” Loki protested grumpily. “I am not dressed as a witch,” he grumbled. Your hair was finally deemed done, so you stood and went to Loki. You couldn’t help yourself after his teasing and grabbed his tie, pulling him down so you could kiss him. Somehow he hadn’t expected it and you heard his soft moan as your mouth forcefully met his.

You could tease him too.

You kissed him for a long moment before you finally let his tie go and let him straighten. You straightened his tie and smoothed out his already perfectly smooth suit jacket. You felt like a ragamuffin next to him in your sweat pants.

“It’s a power move,” Nat supplied. Loki inclined his head, looking impressed with her assessment.

“What?” Cap demanded.

“Werewolves are obsessed with dominance games. Loki is showing he isn’t afraid for Y/N’s safety. He’s not wearing his battle armor. He’s giving her an edge in the dominance game,” Nat explained.

“You can’t really expect Jareth to believe your literal god of a protector isn’t worried, or going to jump in if things go horribly wrong,” Clint protected.

“Of course not,” you replied, buttoning Loki’s suit jacket for him. He gave you a knowing smirk and you stuck your tongue out at him. “But he doesn’t look like he’ll step in and fight either. He’ll stand on the sidelines and look like a slightly worried mate. It’s what’s expected. Stop worrying,” you added for the benefit of the team. You still had to hug them all before they’d calm. “I feel underdressed,” you whined as you took Loki’s arm. He chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“I will take you out somewhere nice after this so you can dress up too, little wolf,” he promised kindly.

“You may have to wait a few days,” you reminded him, getting worried again. You weren’t going to get out of this fight without any injuries. There was no way.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, darling,” he reminded you warmly. “Samuel and I will both be there. We best get going, though. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,”

You said goodbye to the team and Loki teleported you both to the site for the battle. It was a wide open area in the middle of nowhere, but nothing more than a patch of dirt, completely barren of anything but the werewolves and the Loki who were gathering. It was another power move to arrive under the power of a god. You stood up on your toes to kiss Loki before you made your way over to Samuel, Jareth, and Jareth’s witness. You glared when you realized that Jareth’s witness was your brother, Dan. That was one power move for Jareth, forcing your brother to act as his witness.

Asshole.

“About time,” Jareth snarled at you when you were standing just on the other side of Samuel from him. He was trying to pull a power play for beating you here. He must have been nervous to try so hard. You were outshining him on the dominance games and he knew it.

Loki calmly pulled a pocket watch from his pocket. You didn’t know where the watch had come from. He’d never appeared to have one before. “We still have twenty minutes,” Loki told Jareth calmly as he snapped the watch shut again and slipped it back in his pocket.

“The witness is correct. However, since everyone is here, let’s begin,” you all nodded, ready to get this over with. “I invoke the silence for this dominance challenge,” Samuel announced. Pack magic flew over the battleground. You didn’t dare look at Loki, didn’t dare expose that he might be weak to pack magic. You had to trust that the charm of your hair was enough to protect him. It worked before. There was no reason it wouldn’t work now. “Jareth, Y/N, get ready for the fight,” Samuel ordered. You nodded and turned your back to Jareth, trusting Samuel to watch your back.

Loki gave you a small, reassuring smile. You returned the smile as you toed off your shoes. Your socks followed, stuffed into your shoes. You unzipped your hoodie and slipped it off, handing it to Loki when he held out his hands for it. You slipped off your shirt and it went on top of the hoodie. Werewolf rules for combat were weird and insisted that combatants not wear shirts. You carefully removed your necklace, bracelet, and ring and handed them to Loki. “Keep these safe for me?” you asked as he took them.

“Of course, darling,” he replied warmly and bent to kiss you. “Kick his ass,” he told you softly.

“I fully intend to,” you told him with a smirk. You called the wolf to the front and let the partial shift take over. Your eyes, teeth, and claws all shifted, plus the wolf ears on top of your head.

Loki smiled warmly, lovingly at you, even at your hybrid form. “Kick his ass, Lady Wolf.” He repeated for the wolf’s benefit. You felt her pleasure at being spoken to and accepted by her chosen mate. She took control to grab Loki’s tie again and kiss him. She quite enjoyed doing that. He had the best moans of pleasure when she, or you, did.

“Stay safe, mate,” she told him firmly when she let him go.

“As my lady wishes,” he replied with a grin.

You turned back to face Jareth, who was similarly shirtless and in hybrid form. You had to admit that your mom was right and he was attractive. He held no candle to Loki, though, especially when his personality was shit. Samuel gestured to the witnesses to step back and they both backed a safe distance from the battle. They weren’t supposed to be part of this except to stand witness. “This is a fight for dominance. It shall continue until one of you yields, cannot continue, or perishes,” Samuel announced formally. He went over the boring details as protocol dictated. Samuel finally took a step back. “The niceties must be observed,” he announced.

It took every ounce of your willpower to give Jareth the bow that protocol demanded. He did the same and you saw the malicious smirk on his face. It was nowhere near as intimidating as Loki’s. You’d had Loki’s turned on you before. Your own expression was delighted anticipation. You were looking forward to kicking Jareth’s ass thoroughly.

Samuel took another step back. “Ready?” he asked you both. You nodded, neither taking the eyes off the other. You stepped backwards into a fighting stance, Jareth did the same. He rushed you the moment Samuel said “Begin”

You knew the second Jareth moved that you had this fight. Jareth was big and muscled, but he was slow, depending solely on his strength. He could fight and fight well, but he was used to fighting big muscled thugs like himself. He didn’t know how to fight you. He wasn’t expecting you to have any clue what you were doing, though he had watched you train for years. He still underestimated you. He also had not been training with the Aesir for months.

You had, and Loki had taught you well.

You moved as a blur, ducking and dodging out of the way of his blows, watching as he got more and more frustrated that he wasn’t connecting with you. You darted in, jabbed a few hard blows to soft spots and darted back out again before he could move to stop you or hit you. You were fast and good at what you were doing. He was bleeding from your claws, bruised from your blows, cracked ribs, but you hadn’t gotten a good enough blow in to take him down yet.

That didn’t mean you didn’t get hit too. You had a couple bruises already, claw marks across your stomach, a cracked rib from a kick you took poorly, a nasty gash down your arm. Jareth caught a lucky punch to your eye, you spun, reeling from the blow and let yourself fall and roll to get some distance while you cleared the black spots from your vision. They weren’t clearing. Shit. You were also bleeding and the blood threatened to get into your eye.

You needed to end this quickly before Jareth got lucky again.

He charged you again, thinking you were down. This was your chance. You swept his legs out from under him, used a nasty, nasty trick from Nat to severely damage a very precious piece of his anatomy. (You could hear the hisses of sympathy pain from every male watching) Jareth was whimpering in pain as you straddled his chest, your claws at his throat ready to rip his throat out. “Surrender!” you ordered him in a snarl. You were too good for your own well being and had to give him the option to surrender. Honor demanded it.

Fucking honor.

“Never, bitch!” he snarled.

“She has won!” Samuel announced, stepping forward to forcibly end the conflict if Jareth wouldn’t.

Jareth roared as he picked you up and threw you hard toward Dan. You spun in midair, using yet another trick from Nat to land on your feet.

You were too slow.

Too, too slow.

Everyone was too slow.

You roared in anger, pain, uncontrolled rage as you ran for Jareth.

You were too slow.

Everything was in slow motion.

Jareth was charging, but not at you.

He charged Loki.

Samuel roared for him to stop and started forward to stop Jareth.

Loki stepped back, dropping your clothes as he fell automatically into a fighting stance preparing for impact.

You threw every ounce of speed you could into your charge for Jareth.

You

Were

Too

Slow

Jareth changed forms between one step and the next.

Loki tried to change tactics. Fighting a human was different than fighting a wolf.

Even he was too slow.

He managed to get an arm up to protect his face as the wolf leapt for him.

“NO!” you shrieked and grabbed Jareth around the middle, digging in your heels to try to stop his forward momentum.

You were too late.

Jareth’s teeth were already deep in Loki’s arm.

Loki’s blood was pouring. He howled in rage and pain and your heart fell. Loki was doomed, one way or the other by that wound. Either to death or life as a monster.

Jareth was human a moment later and threw you from him. You stumbled and landed hard on your ass. “Your boyfriend is dead, bitch,” Jareth snarled at you.

You roared in anger and jumped back to your feet. You grabbed Jareth again and threw him, hard, away from your Loki, who had daggers in both of his hands. You took a dagger from Loki, who wisely didn’t resist you, and charged Jareth. You slashed viciously, fueled by rage, fueled by pain, by grief. You saw Jareth’s shocked expression at the rage in your eyes, at the power of your wolf that he had never felt before.

He didn’t understand Omegas.

Omegas had power, the same power as an Alpha. You weren’t a submissive. The only difference was that you didn’t fight for the pack as a whole. You fought for its members.

Jareth

Hurt

Your

Pack

He was going to die.

Everyone else was frozen, staring in awe at the power of an enraged Omega.

No one ever saw an Omega enraged. They were the peace of the pack. The pack did its absolute best to keep the Omega happy and peaceful so they would share their peace with the pack.

No one dared anger an Omega.

This was why.

Jareth couldn’t keep up with your rage as you sliced at him, moving with the speed of long months of training with the Aesir. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds when he fell again. He couldn’t even fight back you were moving too fast, too full of anger, rage, power, and grief.

The wolf took charge and did exactly what you’ve been saying for months that you would do to Jareth if he ever touched you again. It was she who grabbed his balls in her claws. She who ripped them from their proper place and shoved them down his throat while he howled.

You took control again, straddling his waist, your dagger to his throat. “You have broken pack law, Jareth, Alpha of the Hudson river pack. You have attempted to turn an individual against his will. For your crimes, I sentence you to die, as is my right and my duty,” you snarled the ritual words.

“A moment, Lady,” Loki said pleasantly, before you could slash the blade across Jareth’s throat. You paused, raising an eyebrow as he stepped over to you. “I did make you a promise of a gift,” he reminded you too politely, too kindly. You sat up a little, keeping your dagger at Jareth’s throat. He was whimpering in pain and fear, which only increased as Loki knelt next to him with a proper malicious grin on his face. Loki calmly reached into Jareth’s chest, his hand simply passing through flesh and bone, and removed Jareth’s still beating heart. “I will keep this safe for you, darling,” Loki told you pleasantly as he stood again. “Carry on,” Jareth was fighting for breath, staring at his heart in Loki’s hand. He was going to die anyway without that, but you were taking no chances.

You let the wolf take control and used her strength to drive the blade straight down through Jareth’s throat. It took effort and you were drenched in his blood, but with a sickening noise, his head was removed from his shoulders, thanks to Loki’s magic blade.

You stared at your handiwork, taking a moment to verify that Jareth was well and truly dead. He wasn’t getting up without his head and heart. You knew that, and still you had to stare at what you’d done, to burn the image in your mind, to tell yourself it was finally over.

Except that it wasn’t.

There was still Loki. You jumped back to your feet, ignoring your own wounds and ran the few steps to Loki, dropping your blade as you ran. “Loki!” you called, concerned at the blood that was still dripping from his arm. Werewolf bites did not heal quickly. They did not heal easily. They did not heal well.

He offered you a smile and held out Jareth’s somehow still-beating heart. It was wrapped in a ribbon tied into a bow. It was absurd and you smiled at your silly Trickster. Was he actually ok? He was a god after all, maybe the bite wouldn’t affect him.

You held out hope for a single instant.

Until he dropped with no warning into a dead faint.

“LOKI!” you shouted as you reached forward to catch him before he could hit the ground.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #chapter 42 #packless monsters #nekoamamori

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ladyofstardust · 6 years

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Meanwhile in Prague

Word Count: 6k

Rating: T

Summary: In which they go to Prague to vomit, eat, and make-out. In that order. Sarah is still trying to pretend this is Not A Date and Jareth is mostly trying to touch her butt. Nobody does a very good job.

Notes: Apartment-verse fic. Directly follows the Tinder Incident. Before Goblins Roasting.

Sarah paced back and forth in front of the mirror in her kitchen. It was five minutes to seven and she was trying very, very hard not to think about what was about to occur and instead on picking the lint off of her favourite dress.

She’d changed four times. Four times and there definitely wasn’t time to change again. At that point she risked him walking in on her naked. Which he’d like just about as much as she wouldn’t.

She thought about what led to this. Kissing him under the the dim flickering lights of her kitchen. The tv playing 80s sitcom reruns in the background. How she was wearing sweatpants and her old college hoodie. How he’d raked his hand through her gross knotted hair. How his hand ran underneath the sweater and up her cool back. He’d felt like fire. He’d felt like jumping into a cool lake. Or the way you feel right before you hit ‘send’ on an important email. Exhilarating and scary all at the same time. Where you let out a breath only to be punched in the gut.

But then she thought about real stuff. About things other than that split second. About going to the movies with her friends, or walking into a library, or seeing a broadway show downtown. Then about her career, her apartment, her family and friends, her retirement fund (pitiful as it was), her doctors appointments and dentists. The restaurants she loved eating at, and the places she dreamed of visiting.

Fire might keep her warm at night, but it still burned up anything in its wake.

If Sarah was being honest with herself, and like, at this point she figured might as well. She’d dreamed about kissing him from the first. She’d dreamed about a hell of a lot more than kissing him and frankly, if she thought she thought she could have that without consequences, she would’ve long ago made those dreams a reality. Leaving aside everything else, Jareth was just stupid hot. Like walk into walls, drop whatever was in your hands, make yourself forget about your life to kiss them hot. But it wasn’t like this was news to her. Yeah he was hot, but he also drove her nuts.

Even if she didn’t care about the whole, ‘give up your whole life just to see if this is maybe viable’ thing, which she did, Jareth was also the fucking worst. He allowed the goblins to treat her home as an extension of their kingdom, he stole her brother and tried to throw her in a feces filled swamp, he used her feelings toward him as a weapon to trap her in that ballroom, he stole her makeup and leftovers, he left glitter goddamn everywhere, and he hated dogs. Who even hates dogs?

So in what messed up world would she ever want to date him?!

Which is why she changed her outfits four times, and was counting down the seconds until he took her to do just that.

She watched her phone’s clock go over to 7pm and heard the familiar chime of the bell over the mirror.

“Goblin King,” she turned to greet him. “Were you just waiting by the mirror to step through at the precise moment it clicked over to 7? How very Cinderella of you.”

“Is this typically how one greets one’s date in the human world?” he frowned. “I thought you were supposed to be ‘showing me the ropes’ as it were.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows both out of surprise that he was actually planning on holding her to that farce, and his altered appearance. He’d slicked back his hair and tamed it into a ponytail of sorts. He was still wearing his leather jacket, but his shirt was plain in nature and was buttoned fully. He’d also changed into a pair of plain black pants, although he wore the same boots she often saw on him. The change of his eyes was the most striking. Jareth had done something to them. Blunted their effect somehow and instead of a mismatched set, two ice blue eyes stared back at her. Sarah realized that with those subtle differences, he easily passed for human. He reminded her a bit of David Bowie with his androgynous features, though Bowie never rocked the ponytail.

“Fair enough,” she said holding up her hands in a truce. “You look, weirdly nice Jareth.”

He smiled. “You should expect nothing less from me. But I must say, you quite took my breath away as I watched you pacing just now. I’ve lived a long time Sarah, but seeing you tonight has already been a memory I will cherish.”

“Goddammit,” she hissed, giving him a playful whack on his shoulder. “You can’t admit to spying and then drop that Jane Austen shit on me. Don’t make me drape a sheet over the mirror. But thank you, that’s nice, I’m still mad, but that’s also still nice.”

“Apologies,” he said taking her hand in his. She made note that he was still wearing his gloves, apparently that had not been part of his humanization. “I shall endeavour to stare at you less, but you do make it difficult precious.”

He laid a delicate kiss on the top of her hand and raised a brow expecting her to challenge him.

“Okay first rule of dating human girls,” she said withdrawing her hand. “I’m used to you and the way you like to talk. Other humans won’t be. You’re gonna come off as a creep if you use language like ‘I shall endeavour’.”

“So you wish for me to speak as you do? With your imprecise phrases and doublespeak?”

“No I think we can write off you using modern slang entirely,” she said, trying to picture him telling some poor girl that his castle was lit or something. “But let’s shoot for curmudgeonly old person rather than CS Lewis character. Actually that brings me to rule two, absolutely no talk of magic, goblins, goblin adjacent stuff, and most importantly, me.”

“I cannot believe you’d think I’d tell any old human girl the secrets of my kingdom,” Jareth sniped, insulted. “You can insult my person as much as you please, but I’d ask you keep your opinions on my rulership to yourself. If you are neither a citizen of the Goblin Kingdom, nor my wife, then you have no power over my rule.”

“Okay,” she said evenly, pleasantly surprised. She rarely heard him talk about his kingdom like that. She knew he didn’t tell people about goblins or magic, but she thought that sometimes he would let his little games of misdirection and teasing go a bit too far. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have overstepped.”

“Of course if you were my wife, you’d be in charge of deciding these things with me,” he grinned at her.

“I’ll add it to the pro column,” she grumbled.

“Oh I have a pro column!” he exclaimed, delighted. “Well I’m just dying to hear more about all my great attributes over dinner, but I think it best we head off lest we miss our reservation.”

“Yeah considering we’ve already had to apologize to each other and we haven’t left my kitchen, this is starting out like most of my dates already. You said you wanted to pick the place so where are we going? Do I need my car keys or can we walk?”

“I was thinking somewhere a little further afield,” he said, extending his hand towards her again. “Are you willing to let me take us there?”

Sarah hesitated a moment, debating, before sighing and placing her hand in his.

“Let’s roll magic man,” she said. “Before I change my mind.”

“Best to close your eyes Sarah,” he warned, pulling her in tightly so there was no space between them. “It is unpleasant if you are unused to the sensation.”

Sarah closed her eyes and felt the floor drop out from under her. She dug her nails into Jareth’s wrist in an attempt not to panic, and he squeezed her hand right back as if to reassure her he wasn’t going to let go. She didn’t dare open her eyes until she heard his voice in her ear.

“Welcome Sarah, to the great city of Prague.”

“PRAGUE?!” she exclaimed, that had snapped her right out of it.

Well, for about the half second she had to register where she was before she promptly vomited all over the alleyway he’d landed them in. Jareth, to his credit, seemed to take it in stride and simply grabbed her hair to keep her from being sick all over it.

“Great,” she said wiping her mouth. “Usually I like to save the vomiting until later in the date.”

“No time like the present,” he said brightly handing her a handkerchief from his pocket. “I did warn you, the trip can be unpleasant.”

“Understatement of the year. Does everyone puke?” she asked, gratefully taking the cloth from his hands.

“I don’t make it a habit bringing humans along,” he said with a shrug. “It mostly only seems to occur when I move from place to place in your world. It actively works against my magic instead of helping it the way the Underground does. If it makes you feel better, it is deeply unpleasant for me to travel significant distances in cars or most of your trains.”

“That does make me feel a bit better yeah,” she said, smoothing out her dress. She’d missed her shoes at least. “But I’m good now.”

“Still feel up to eating?” he asked, offering her his arm.

“Yeah since you brought me halfway across the world and all, the food better be amazing,” she said linking her arm through his.

“I’ve been coming here for over a hundred years, a relatively new place by my standards,” he said absently. Sarah struggled to think of a place she’d been going to for ten years let alone a hundred.

“You’re a creature of habit,” she pointed out. “You like what you like and then kind of just keep doing that.”

“How true,” he conceded. “For instance I like you.”

“Nope,” Sarah replied, shaking her head. “This date is not a real date. It’s a practice date so you can date other people and stop liking me.”

“Well how am I doing so far?” he asked.

“You lost points when you admitted to watching me standing in front of the mirror, but gained them all back for how nice you were about me getting the pukes in front of you. But I don’t think I need to tell you most women won’t have to deal with teleportation sickness.”

“There,” he said pointing to a little arched doorway. From the outside it didn’t look terribly impressive. An old fresco was painted on top of the doorway, which had writing Sarah couldn’t read.

Jareth held open the wooden door for Sarah to step through. As soon as she entered the restaurant she realized that she was dead wrong about this place. Beautiful elaborate paintings decorated the arched ceilings. Gold chandeliers lit the room, which complemented the candelabras on the individual tables. A luxe red carpet lined the room which looked only large enough to seat about thirty or forty people.

“Jareth,” she hissed into his ear, anxiously smoothing down her suddenly very plain feeling jersey dress. “I’m massively underdressed. Also I cannot afford anything on this menu. I live in a city with hundreds of great restaurants - we couldn’t have just gone there instead?”

“This place is called U Malířů1543. It is named such because that is the year it was established. Excellent year by the way, some of the best wine. You said I could choose the place, and this is one of my favourite Aboveground establishments. If I thought there was any chance I could have taken you to one of the hundreds of fine establishments Underground that I love without you throwing a fit and spouting off about kidnapping and faerie food again, I would have.”

“That picnic was a terrible half-assed idea and you know it,” she interrupted. The time he’d tried to surprise her with a “friendly platonic picnic” she was sure seemed like a great idea in his head. Except he’d forgotten to ask her if she wanted to come and instead just ambushed her one time when she was trying to visit with her friends. Locking her closest friends in oubliettes while he dropped grapes into her mouth like some sort of demented fairytale was not on.

“My point is,” he said gruffly, ignoring her. “I wanted to show you a bit of my world. Or perhaps more accurately, the parts of your world that I enjoy that have nothing to do with you. You’re not underdressed, you look perfect as we have already discussed, and as this date was my idea, I will be picking up the cheque Sarah. Before you interrupt to argue with me about owing debts to faerie, consider the fact that you’re helping me learn how to interact with humans and write it off as a fair trade. Now are there any more objections or can we take our seats? We’re already late for our reservations.”

“I have a feeling reservations is going to be the theme of the night,” she muttered, smoothing down her dress. Maybe if she hadn’t spent so long trying to decide what to wear she’d have had time to iron it. Sarah eyed the lady at a nearby table. Her diamond bracelet clinked against her plate every time she reached for her wine glass. Sarah looked down at the hair tie on her wrist and the cheap charm bracelet her mom had got her a number of christmases ago. She had no business being in a place this fancy and everyone here knew it. They were probably already discussing who that dishevelled, puke-smelling girl that just walked in was.

Jareth stepped forward to speak to the maitre d. He spoke quickly in a language Sarah guessed must have been Czech. Her hands tightened into fists as he led them to their seats. She felt Jareth’s hand over hers and he patted her fist kindly.

“Why are you so concerned about these other people who you will likely never see again after this night,” he whispered into her ear.

“I don’t like people thinking I’m weird,” she replied quietly. “It reminds me of being a kid and feeling powerless when people would make fun of me for, well, being weird.”

Sarah sat down and smiled at the maitre d as he pulled out her chair. If she couldn’t be the best dressed she could at least be the most polite.

“How do I say thank you?” she asked Jareth quickly.

“ Děkuji,” he replied nodding at the maitre d and taking his seat. “Do you mind if I order for you? The menu is also in Czech.”

“Yeah it’s fine, just no white wines and no fish,” she said gratefully taking another look around the dining room.

It really was a beautiful place. Looking at Jareth she realized she was wrong, that she wasn’t the worst dressed here. Jareth was dressed much the same as she was and he obviously didn’t care.

“You dressed to match me didn’t you,” she said, realizing. “You knew how fancy this place was so you watched to see what I would be wearing before choosing an outfit yourself. You didn’t want me to be self-conscious.”

“Yes,” he replied, eyes shooting to hers as he peered over the menu.

“So then why didn’t you just tell me we were going somewhere fancy so I would have worn something nice?” she asked, confused.

“I...didn’t think you’d come,” he replied, equally confused.

“Okay,” she said putting her head in her hands. “I would have probably asked if you were planning on covering the bill and maybe the name of the restaurant yeah, but I still would have come Jareth.”

“I will know for next time then,” he replied smoothly.

“I kinda just want to point out something though,” she said, deliberately stepping over the next time comment. “I think you spend a lot of time feeling like I should loosen up and go with your plans more. Then you say something like how you didn’t think I’d come if you told me to wear something nice. That’s totally different and it kind of upsets me that you don’t get that. I’m not some fun hating monster Jareth. I mean for goodness sakes, I let goblins have free reign of my apartment and I go along with your plans more often than not. But you can’t paint me enforcing what little boundaries I have left as me being rigid. It’s not fair and yes! Before you say anything, I know that life’s not fair thanks. But if you want to date me, or any other human girl, you have to respect our boundaries.”

“So what is the difference between this and say, the picnic,” he said carefully, taking a slow sip of his far too expensive wine.

“Well for starters,” she said, gratefully taking a gulp of the same wine which tasted like every other red wine that didn’t cost an arm and a leg, “that time you didn’t ask. You gotta ask. Like that is level one humaning stuff right there. Most girls don’t mind a bit of a surprise every now and then. I like surprises! This is kind of a fun surprise, I’ve never been to Prague. This is cool. This would have been ten times as cool if you’d told me this is what we’re doing beforehand because I could enjoy it, dress appropriately, and mentally prepare myself to be teleported halfway across the world.”

“Okay,” he said seriously. “Let us do something called compromising. I promise not to take you anywhere without your permission, if you agree to tell me your reservations instead of simply dismissing me. Allow me the chance to convince you,”

“I’ll agree to that,” she said with a sigh. “Though that’s mostly because I know you at this point and I trust you not to do anything shady or convince me of anything that is going to hurt me later. But I feel it’s important you understand that no is an okay answer sometimes. I’m not rejecting you, well, I’m not always rejecting you, sometimes I just don’t want to and that has to be fine. Maybe I just don’t feel like doing something insane and wacky, maybe I just want to hang out on my couch and read a book.”

“Is this how all humans treat their friends?” he asked with interest. “That doesn’t sound like a great deal of fun.”

“Yeah mostly,” she said rolling her eyes. “Fun is when everyone is having a good time. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have fun at one of Toby’s soccer games or hanging out at Six Flags. So I don’t “surprise” you by taking you there assuming that you’ll have a good time because I am. You get what I’m saying?”

“I suppose so,” he said crisply. “But what are six flags?”

“An amusement park,” she said with a smile. “Do you wanna go? I could be wrong about this, you don’t seem personally concerned with things like gravity so maybe you’d have a blast.”

“Is that one of those places where everyone gets in the little metal box, allows the teenager standing at the controls to fling them about a bit, then they all get out and talk about what fun that was?”

“The very same,” she said brightly. “Still wanna go?”

“No,” he frowned. “I’m fairly certain some of the lower kingdoms still use that as a method of torture.”

“Exactly. Different definitions of fun,” she smiled, she was cheered up greatly feeling like she’d finally managed to get through to him. “Though while we’re on the subject of dress,” she said gesturing towards his hands. “I’ve always wanted to know something. What’s the deal with the gloves.”

“The gloves?” he said, turning over his hands to examine them, as if he was surprised to find them covered.

“Yeah, you wear them all the time. Any reason? If you touch me will I turn to gold? Are you secretly Midas?” she asked with a grin.

“No,” he said with a shrug. “I suppose I hadn’t really thought about how you would perceive it. Where I’m from, showing one’s hands is an especially...intimate gesture. Unsuitable for polite company and generally reserved for family and close lovers.”

“Oh really?” she asked, intrigued. “I never thought about it like that. Why is it so intimate?”

“Our hands are the conduits for our power,” he replied simply. “We move and manipulate spells with them.”

“That makes sense,” she said nodding. “Do you guys feel the same way about breasts as the rest of North America?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. “The women typically cover themselves but mostly to wear the more elaborate garments most of the high court is so fond of. The peasant women cover them to keep warm in the winter months, but in the summer it’s common to see them walking around mostly nude. We’re not very prudish about these sorts of things.”

“No, I never got that impression from you,” she said with a raised brow. “So the glove thing is a bit of a surprise.”

“I suppose we all have our traditions,” he said with a smirk. “Now what other human things should I be aware of before throwing myself into the dating world of humans.”

“Well for starters, it’s good to ask people questions about themselves. Then listen to what they are saying and ask questions about their answers. It’s not a quiz though so don’t take notes or rapid fire random crap like what their favourite ice cream is. Just have a conversation. Kinda like we’re doing now.”

“Yes I should think I have a handle on that,” he said rolling his eyes. “But why did you request I not speak of you to these women? Shouldn’t one tell their date about their friends?”

“Yes…” she said carefully, she’d really hoped to avoid this, but knew it had to come up at some point. “But I don’t think you should mention me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not sure you can talk about me in a way that doesn’t immediately tell any date that you’re interested in dating me instead of them,” she answered quickly, just wanting to move past it without much discussion on the subject.

Jareth looked as if he was thinking about this for a moment, considering a possible answer. Then he turned back to his meal as if she’d said nothing at all.

“Are you not going to argue with me?” she was genuinely confused by his reaction.

“No.” he said, taking another bite of his dinner.

“Because I’m right?”

“Yes.”

“Well...okay,” she said confused. He had agreed with her, so why was she so annoyed? In fact, he’d dropped the subject quickly which was the best scenario she could have hoped for.

They sat in silence for a moment as Sarah picked at her dinner. It was easily one of the best meals she’d ever eaten but she was having trouble enjoying it.

“Are you really going to go out with one of those girls from Tinder,” she finally blurted out.

“I don’t know,” he said putting down his utensils. “Do you still want me to?”

“I owe you an apology probably,” she said with another sigh. “I’ve been a shitty friend lately. Running away every time you come near and then shoving all those women in your face like they’re interchangeable. I’ve kind of been behaving like a child.”

“Kind of?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t push me Jareth,” she said shaking her head. “I panicked. When you kissed me it reminded me of the ballroom, you know, the elephant in the room we don’t talk about?”

“Yes,” he said avoiding her eyes.

“Yeah so it kinda brought me back to that moment. When all I wanted was to kiss you - which I think you knew at the time so let’s not pretend this is new information. The last time I wanted to kiss you it nearly cost me everything. You nearly cost me everything. I know we’re trying to move past that to be friends, but you kissing me is making that hard.”

He paused and looked at her consideringly. “Has it occurred to you that perhaps I want you to want to kiss me?”

“It’s occurred to me plenty yeah,” she sighed. “But I can’t want that.”

“Can’t?”

“Can’t,” she replied firmly. “The price is too high Jareth.”

“You don’t even know what the price is,” he challenged. “I’ve never asked anything of you.”

“But that’s the thing, you don’t have to ask. I know - I’m not stupid and I’m not some kid who’s just gonna throw my hands in the air and shout about true love being all that matters. For starters true love is bullshit, and for another I have things about my life that I really like that are just straight incompatible with - whatever the hell we’d be if we just started kissing a whole bunch, I don’t know. I just know that I don’t want to want to kiss you.”

“I’m sorry for putting you in a position where you feel you can’t want to kiss me,” he replied. “But know that I hope you’ll change your mind.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry for forcing your hand so that you felt the only way you could take me on this date was to trick me into it. I can see how we ended up here and this one is mostly on me. But somehow, someway, despite all my very best efforts, you’re my friend Jareth. I’d like to keep you as my friend but you need to cut this kissing shit out.”

“I would remind you who kissed who in the first place,” he said, taking another careful bite of the very expensive potatoes.

“Oh but you finished it Goblin King,” she replied evenly.

“I intend to yes,” he said with a smile that Sarah didn’t entirely trust.

The rest of the meal passed, to Sarah’s surprise, relatively pleasantly. Jareth told her about the last couple times he’d been in Prague and how the city had changed. Sarah enjoyed listening to him tell her about a world that she’d only known from her history books. It was a unique perspective, and one many would kill for. She enjoyed hearing him describe the concerts he’d been to and the different people he’d met. Most of their names he had forgotten, but she was surprised at the affection his voice held when he spoke of them.

Jareth had suggested they take a bit of a walk after dinner. Sarah thought this was a great idea as walking around Prague at night for an hour, and then getting to crawl into her own bed to sleep seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity. She hadn’t planned for the change in temperature though so Jareth lent her his jacket. Sarah gratefully accepted.

“I feel you should know something,” she told him as they walked along the cobblestone streets.

“Oh?” he said in surprise.

“Yep,” she nodded. “I drank all that fancy wine at dinner and those food portions were teeny tiny and you see I have no food from before in my stomach because of the puking and basically, hello I am tipsy.”

“Excellent,” he said wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Then this would be the perfect time to ask you all those soul searching questions.”

“Oh no,” she said laughing. “You’re not going to in vinos veritas me. No no. Not today buddy, not today.”

“Hmm,” he said considering their surroundings. “This does make the matter of getting you home more difficult though. I don’t want you losing that very fancy dinner all over your nice kitchen floor.”

“Yeah how’d you pay for that anyways?” she asked. “Pretty sure you’re not walking around with a Visa card in those tight pants of yours. I would know, because of how tight your pants are. Your pants are tight Jareth. Tight Pants McGee is what I should call you really.”

“Oh you are just delightful when inebriated aren’t you?” he said with a grin. “Tell me more about my tight pants and all the ways you’ve noticed how tight they are. Actually I’d prefer an alphabetical list of all the times you’ve checked out my ass in my pants.”

“Sure sure ass,” she said nodding. “Definitely just the ass. Anyways no thank you Mr. Tighty, as I just said, we’re not in vinos veritasing me. I’m a strong independent woman who can handle her shit and her wine.”

“I’d never dream of suggesting otherwise.”

“But like, just checking, we didn’t dine and dash that place did we? I don’t think they’re gonna track me down and find me or anything, but I’m not about tricking people that we paid when we didn’t. I know about faerie gold. I can’t really afford it, like at all, but if we need to I can go back and put it on my card.”

“No,” he said waving a hand. “That is a trick for lower faerie. I have some human investments that do quite well. Real estate mostly. It collects a nice paycheque that I use to fund myself and my kingdom’s activities here Aboveground.”

“You’re...a landlord.” she said with disbelief. The idea that Jareth could be anyone’s landlord was somehow baffling. Especially when she considered her own landlord, the overweight fifty something gentleman with a limited understanding of English but who really loved the local hockey team as everything he owned seemed to be plastered with its logo.

“I suppose I am,” he replied. “I don’t actually do anything to earn the money. I have human emissaries who handle that side of my business. Not uncommon for high faerie to have human businesses, and we learn a little about your economics and history during our schooling. I have a couple lawyers and whatnot and I believe an accountant. To be honest I can’t quite recall.”

“This is completely mind blowing,” she said. “You’re probably like crazy rich then. God, my mom would just freak out if she knew I turned you down.”

“Every time I hear about your mother the woman sounds more and more … complicated,” he finished diplomatically.

“Yeah sure,” she said with a snort. “Complicated. You can say shallow you know. It’s not like this is news to me. I worry a lot about ending up like that.”

“You do?” he asked with interest. “Why? You’re nothing like the woman.”

She stopped walking and stared at him. He took his arm from her shoulder and gave her a puzzling look. “What is it Sarah? Have I upset you?”

“No it’s not that,” she said, her head starting to clear up. “It’s just, you know you’re the first person to say that?”

“I am?” he asked, brow furrowing in confusion. “That cannot be true.”

“People are always going on and on about how much like her I am,” she said raking a hand through her hair. “I know I look like her. But my dad and Karen used to say during arguments how I was just like her. So stubborn and sharp tongued.”

Jareth took her by the wrist and gently guided her down a narrow alleyway. “You are stubborn and sharp tongued. But you’re not just like anyone. You’re not vain, shallow, or obsessed with your status in life. From what you’ve mentioned about your mother, I would guess you have very little in common.”

“I know,” she said squeezing his hand. “It’s just nice to hear someone else say it for once.”

“Are you still inebriated,” he asked her taking a quick look around.

“No, I’m pretty sober now. The walk helped a lot. Did you figure out an easier way for me to get home.”

“I did,” he replied. “Or at least, I should like to try something. As I said I don’t take humans alongside very often so I’m not sure if this will work, but I think it is our best shot. Though you may not like it.”

“It definitely can’t be any worse than the trip here,” she said with a laugh. “So just go ahead, I won’t bite.”

“Promise?” he asked with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Sarah didn’t have a chance to answer before he pulled her in. She wasn’t sure if the ground fell because he kissed her or if he kissed her to keep her from falling. He kissed her smoothly and easily, like it was something he did every morning before she left for work. He kissed her like it was summertime and they had the rest of the day to just lie in the grass kissing each other like that. He kissed her like he knew her and it made Sarah’s heart jump to think that maybe he did.

The last time he kissed her, she reasoned that she needed to kiss him back because she wasn’t going to let him ruin kissing for her without ruining it for him right back. This time she kissed him back because it kept her from thinking about them falling through the nothingness of space and time.

Or at least that’s what she’d say if anyone asked. It absolutely definitely wasn’t because he smelled good and kissed even better. Nope, that had less than zero to do with it.

She barely noticed they’d landed before he pulled back.

“There, I thought that might do it,” he said smugly.

“Well...you were right,” she said slightly out of breath. Her head was swimming but her dinner seemed content to stay where it was.

“I was?” he said with smug smile.

“Yep, I didn’t like that,” she said giving him a solid whack on the arm.

“Ow Sarah!” he whined. “It worked did it not?”

“That was absolutely the last kiss you’re ever getting so I hope you made it count because kissing is done now,” she said annoyed.

“Something tells me it won’t be,” he said with a smirk and pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “But I’d like to point out I did ask.”

“Bite me.”

“I intend to,” he said giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “But as you know all good dates end with a kiss and I think this was a very good date indeed.”

“I suppose,” she grumbled. A small part of her was quite pleased she’d had another excuse to kiss him. But like hell if she’d ever admit that out loud.

“Have a good rest of your evening Sarah,” he said stepping backwards through the mirror. “Until next time.”

“Ugh whatever,” she sighed waving him off. She waited until he was fully gone and then narrowed her eyes into the glass. “And if you’re still watching know that I can absolutely move this mirror into my landlord’s bathroom and I don’t think you’ll like the view from there half as much.”

Sarah thought she heard a laugh somewhere in the far distance and decided she was just going to have to take her chances. There was a reason the mirror lived in the kitchen and not her bedroom.

#SO I ACTUALLY WROTE THIS LIKE TWO MONTHS AGO #and just TOTALLY FORGOT to post it here?????#anyways Sarah is actually dressed perfectly appropriately and she's just got some old hangups #she's working on them #my ownsome #apartment-verse #fanfiction #labyrinth #labyrinth has ruined me

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writeyouin · 7 years

Text

Jareth X Reader – Placing Bets Part 1 of 2

Description: Jareth gets bored of watching another selfish runner in his maze, and instead turns his gaze onto the wished away victim, you in his oubliette.

A/N – I’ll be honest, this is the one I was really excited for. I may write a part 2 but I’m not sure yet.

Warnings – None

Rating – T

Jareth sneered as he watched yet another useless whelp get lost in his labyrinth. He tossed the viewing crystal back and forth while lounging in his throne and pondering the many runners he’d seen over the years. Why did they even bother trying? After all, they must be even crueller than him to wish somebody away as if they were nothing; then they’d try to redeem themselves by attempting a rescue. Did any of them really care if they won his game or was it all just so they could live with the guilt?

Bemused, he caught the crystal, spinning it on one finger until the view switched to you in a cell filled with multiple doors; all which led to a different kind of cell. Some cells had doors high upon the walls, where you had to climb to reach them, others had animals which would attempt to confuse prisoners with their own unique abilities, a few held items that turned to a disgusting goo when touched; not a single cell had any hope of escape.

You were currently nursing a bloody hand after attempting to climb a wall made entirely of spikes; you’d been trapped in that cell the longest so far. There was no doubt about it, the longer Jareth observed your determination, resilience, and strength, the more enamoured he became with you. Naturally, by fae standards, that meant Jareth was in love with you; fae emotions were much stronger than that of a human. Most victims of his prison started off with the usual escape attempts but all tapered off after around the first hour. You on the other hand, had gone eleven hours straight and had still not given up.

While Jareth usually derived entertainment from tormenting the runners, this time he was completely enthralled with observing the prize; you. Jareth snapped his fingers, summoning an ornate, gothic, black clock, marked with thirteen hours. He looked from the clock to you and back. “Hmm, a determined little minx if I ever saw one. Only two hours left and (s)he’s as hopeful as ever.”

He pointed his cane at one of his goblin servants in the doorway. “Bring (Y/N) to me, I think a chat would prove fruitful.”

After seeing the sheer size of the goblin guard escorting you from the hellish cell, you opted not to fight or run; instead, you would face what was to come with dignity and grace until an opportunity for escape presented itself.

When you arrived in the throne room, you were taken aback by the sight before you; you’d been prepared for a trap or trick of some form but there was no such thing. Jareth himself stood proudly in the centre, donning a navy-blue masquerade-like outfit. The room was lit with fireflies. A string quartet played serenely in the corner. On the other side of the room was a table laden with the most delectable looking foods you’d ever seen; bowls of plump peaches, peach cobbler, caramelised peaches, and other peach-themed delights.

“Enjoying the view?” Jareth addressed you mischievously.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” You glowered.

“I should hope so, you did come dressed for the occasion.”

You frowned’, then looked down to your outfit which had transformed into an extravagant, pearl, masquerade outfit to compliment Jareth’s; furthermore, your once bloody hand was completely healed.

Jareth shot you a satisfied smirk, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards him.

“Dance with me.” He said in a tone that wasn’t quite a request nor a demand.

You complied, trying to gauge his true intent as he swayed you gracefully in time with the music.

“How do you like your new home?”

“This isn’t home.”

“Of course it is.” Jareth rolled his eyes, bored with the obvious. “Don’t deny what you know to be true.” He dipped you gracefully. “This became your home the second you got here. Barely anyone makes it through my labyrinth.”

“Then there’s still a chance.”

Jareth grinned, pulling you unnecessarily close on the way up. “You’re so sure of yourself my peach. Would you care to make a little wager?”

You pulled away from him, flushed red, though not from the dance. “I… Fine, I have nothing to lose.”

“Excellent. Now, you say your runner will make it in the remaining time to rescue you, I say he won’t. If you win, you can leave as already agreed-”

“No.”

“No?”

“That would gain me nothing, the purpose of a wager is to earn something, is it not? I want something more.”

Jareth pursed his lips. “Very well. Consider this, if you win, you shall get one wish from me to be used at any time you desire.”

You thought it over before nodding, satisfied.

“When I win-”

“If you win.”

“You will keep your human form instead of being transformed into one of my goblin subjects, and you will marry me, staying by my side for all eternity.”

You paled sickly, quickly regaining your composure and snapping, “THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU’RE SAYING DAMN IT.”

“I ALWAYS THINK BEFORE SPEAKING.” He thundered. “Fae cannot lie. I always take particular care when choosing my words.”

“I…” You faced him defiantly, standing tall with pride. “He will come for me. I know it.”

“So you agree to my terms?”

“I do.”

“The deal has been struck. Now that’s taken care of, do you care to see how your runner’s doing?”

You remembered the hateful words the boy had said before wishing you away. The two of you had never met before today and now you had to trust him to compete for your life. When in your own, safe realm, you’d seen how upset the boy was at something and tried to help. Things escalated quickly and before you knew it, the two of you were on opposite ends of the labyrinth. Despite all that, he still had the nerve to compete for you; if the circumstances were better, it would have been heart-warming.

“Sure.”

Jareth retrieved a small crystal ball, seemingly from nowhere. You watched in avid fascination as the boy appeared in the centre, evidently confused as to whether he should take the swampy path to the left or the desert path to the right. You grabbed hold of Jareth’s forearm, desperate to get a closer look. Finally, the boy chose the path to the left, you winced as a hole opened in the very mud beneath him, dropping him into a cave with a petrified squeal.

Your grip tightened. “No… Your maze isn’t fair.”

“Neither was wishing you away.” Jareth replied harshly, startling you away from him until you regained your courage.

“AT LEAST HE’S TRYING.”

“What will it take for you to realise? He’d leave right now if he could.”

“SHUT UP. YOU’RE WRONG.”

“You think so, my little flower? Then please, observe for you will be mine.”

Within the blink of an eye, Jareth vanished, in his place stood the crystal on a floating, red, velvet pillow. You grabbed the crystal, clutching it tightly. Jareth reappeared in front of the boy, who scrambled back, tripping over in the small space.

“P-please, don’t hurt me.” He stammered, shielding his face.

You eyed him closely, noticing for the first time that he wasn’t really a boy at all but a man of around nineteen; you wondered how you hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Stop your snivelling, I’m not here to hurt you.” Jareth growled disgustedly. “I’m here to make a one-time offer so pay attention.”

The runner stopped cowering but made no attempt to get up.

“You are here to rescue (Y/N), the person you so carelessly banished. There is exactly one hour left to accomplish this impossible task and you are no nearer success than you were eleven hours ago. If you abandon your quest now, you will be returned home, unscathed.”

The runner threw himself at Jareth’s feet. “Yes. Whatever you say. I didn’t even want to be here, I just thought (s)he was the way home. Please, let me go.”

Jareth glared at the repulsive creature before him, delivering a swift kick to the man’s jaw, removing him from his feet. “A true coward. You will be sent back to live with what you’ve done. I hope the guilt eats away at you.”

A second later, the man was gone and Jareth was back by your side. Numbness had taken over you, you didn’t feel a thing as Jareth leaned in close, his breath tickling your ear, “Get ready for our wedding, my peach.”

He swept away, leaving you alone in the now empty throne room, wondering what exactly, this would mean for your future.

#the labyrinth #jareth #jareth x reader #jareth the goblin king #jareth the goblin king x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #reader #reader insert #placing bets

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tomishaped · 6 years

Text

522 Things I'm not allowed to do at Hogwarts

Numbers 391-488

391. Asking the Weasley twins, "So do you do everything together?" is ill advised.

392. Telling Lucius what he could do with his staff... is not advisable.

393. I will not ask the school to sponsor a break dancing crew.

394. Voldemort, after being defeated, did not get served.

395. Getting Colin Creevey drunk and steering him toward a sleeping Harry Potter is just a bad idea all around.

396. -Then using his camera to take incriminating photos is not nice.

397. Coming up behind Harry while he and Draco are glowering at each other and saying "Oh, go on and kiss him already!" is not funny.

398. -Even if Luna Lovegood does say, "Yes, I thought so too."

399. I am not a Balrog animagus.

400. The house never did fall on Professor Umbridge's sister, nor is she suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder as a result.

401. I may not try to find out if any of the owls are David Bowie in animagus form.

402. I will not ask people what their daemons are.

403. I will not offer Professor McGonagall lasagne.

404. I will not tell the Ravenclaws that they're basically useless because Hogwart's smartest student is in another house.

405. I will not call Pizza Hut and ask them to deliver to the common room.

406. I will not poison first years. No matter how much I think they need it.

407. It is not appropriate trade first years between houses.

408. I will not tempt Ravenclaws with apples. I will also not say that the Slytherins have tempted other students with apples.

409. Frankenstein is not required reading for DADA classes.

410. -Neither is Dracula.

411. I will not try to explain the laws of physics, not even for the sake of argument.

412. If I even look like I might sing "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves" I will be Obliviated.

413. Using the 'Petrificus Totalus' curse on Draco Malfoy and dumping him in the Gryffindor common room as a Christmas present to the House means you should watch your back until June.

414. -Especially if the Weasley twins were staying over break.

415. -If Lee Jordan was there too, you're going to need a bodyguard.

416. I will not claim to be able to see the Thestrals if I cannot.

417. -I will not tell first years that "any true wizard or witch" can see Thestrals, and that if they can't they "obviously aren't cut out for this school".

418. I am not to tell Muggleborn first-years that Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans taste better when one eats a whole handful simultaneously.

419. I will not take out a life insurance policy on any Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

420.I will not attempt to repel Dementors by covering myself in chocolate body paint.

421. I will not sneak up behind Draco and Harry while they are in their Staring Snarky Yelling Matches and yell, "SLASH SLASH SLASH! LET'S SEE SOME SLASH!"

422. I will not give Hagrid Pokmon cards and convince him that they are real animals

423. -Likewise, I will not tell First Year Muggle-borns that Pokmon battles are a part of the Care of Magical Creatures curriculum

424. I am not qualified to perform exorcisms on Hogwarts ghosts, and attempting to do so will merely offend them.

425. Draco Malfoy is not the secret identity of "Ferret Boy".

426. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are not the magical equivalent of "Batman and Robin".

427. Telling Draco Malfoy to "make like a ferret and bounce" is always a bad idea.

428. The Crucible is not summer reading for History of Magic, and I should not tell First Years that it is.

429. "You might be a Pureblood if..." jokes will get me in trouble, especially in front of Slytherins.

430. I will not play the Darth Vader theme for Professor Snape.

431. - However, when Lucius Malfoy visits, I may play it.

432. The bludger is not a bowling ball, and Professor Snape is not a bowling pin. I will not attempt to prove otherwise.

433. If I insist on carrying out my plans of producing "Riddle-de-dee: The Voldemort Musical", I will do so under a nom-de-plume.

434. - I will not attempt to recruit the title character to play himself. Even if he looks good in tap shoes.

435. The Slytherin prefect is named Draco Malfoy, not "Rocky Horror.

436. -Transfiguring Draco Malfoy's uniform into a gold thong is inappropriate.

437. -Especially if he's wearing it.

438. Crabbe and Goyle should not be referred to as "Bulk and Skull". "Dumb and Dumber" is equally inappropriate.

439. -I should not refer to Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle collectively as "Team Rocket" either.

440. Comparing Draco Malfoy to Alex Krycek, Lindsay McDonald, Lex Luthor or any similar character is not an appropriate subject for a Muggle Studies essay.

441. I will not attempt to determine whether Malfoy is a natural blond.

442. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle's first names are, respectively, Draco, Vincent and Gregory, not Larry, Darryl and Darryl.

443. The Slytherin Quidditch team should not be referred to as "Draco Malfoy and a moderate amount of cross-dressing".

444. -Even if that is an accurate description.

445. The song "Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead" is never, ever appropriate.

446. "Springtime for Voldemort" is not an acceptable suggestion for the class play.

447. I am not allowed to spank others.

448. -Even if Malfoy liked it.

449. No matter how vast the uses and entertaining the results, I will not indulge in fun with duct tape.

450. -This goes double for superglue.

451. I am not to dance naked in the great hall.

452. -Or on the grounds.

453. -Generally, dancing naked is wrong.

454. Despite the appearances of the employees and the vaults, Gringotts is not the entrance to the Labyrinth.

455. -While in the company of goblins, I must not demand that I be taken to Jareth.

456. -Nor shall I tell them "You remind me of the babe.

457. Draco Malfoy no longer requires a nanny, nor does he need tucking in and "a bit of a cuddle" at bedtime.

458. - Not even if he insists that he does. And that his father has hired me to provide said service.

459. I am not to call Hogwarts "the most covert anti-Death Eater organization on the planet.

460. The Easter Bunny is not Jesus' Animagus form.

461. I am not allowed to ask Pureblood students things like, "If your parents got divorced, would they still be brother and sister?"

462. I am not allowed to discuss my theory that Voldemort is actually the second cousin of Sauron.

463. I will not tell first years that they should build a tree house in the Whomping Willow.

464. I will not write forged letters home to the parents of Muggleborn first years detailing the Satanic rituals they are learning.

465. I will not ask Dobby why he doesn't look more like Orlando Bloom.

466. - Nor will I ask him if he works for Santa Claus in the off-season.

467. I will not invite Professor Snape to a midnight showing of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show".

468. -The same goes double for Voldemort.

469. -Likewise, I will no longer be permitted to refer to Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange as Riff Raff and Magenta.

470. -Especially to their faces.

471. I will stop pasting happy face stickers on Lupin's office door.

472. Draco Malfoy does not appreciate being called 'Ferret Boy'

473. -Or 'The Blond Boy Wonder'

474. Hagrid's skin is not green and I should stop calling him 'The Jolly Green Giant.'

475. Sending love notes to Professor Snape and signing them 'With Love, Draco Malfoy' is not appropriate.

476. -Neither is signing them with: 'I had a great time last night, Argus Filch.'.

477. Breaking into song during Potions class is not acceptable.

478. -Especially if the song is 'I feel pretty, oh so pretty'.

479. Or 'I'm too sexy'.

480. I am not a 'ninja sent here by Lord Voldemort to destroy Harry Potter' and should stop shouting this at meal times.

481. Lucius Malfoy's cane is not a 'pimp cane'.

482. I must never sneak up behind Draco Malfoy and coo "How's my Blondie-Bear?"

483. Teaching first years to chorus in unison "The amazing bouncing ferret" whenever they hear the name Draco Malfoy is just wrong, funny, but wrong.

484. It's not tasteful to approach Cho wearing a shirt that says All the good-looking ones die young with a picture of Cedric Diggory on it.

485. I am not to tell Draco that I know all about his affair with Hermione Granger.

486. -Especially if it's not true.

487. -I also cannot sell the story to Rita Skeeter.

488. -Or owl Lucius, Narcissa, or Bellatrix with the imaginary details

#harry potter #522 things im not allowed to do at hogwarts #hogwarts #list #funny #slytherin #gryffindor #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #hermione granger #ron weasley #draco malfoy #crabbe #goyle #snape #dumbledore #mcgongall #minerva mcgonagall #hagrid

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bethany69esda · 7 years

Text

Tea with Grandmother-Chp.2 -Coffee

I wrote more of this. In which i explore my own emotional state with vague references to fae and college life.

It’s been exactly a lunar month since you last saw Grandmother. You go at night, as you are accustomed to. You can go during the day, but at night the air is better, and you don’t have to worry about losing time and missing class. The last, and only time you went during the day left you missing 3 hours and missing a lecture on the stereochemistry of the E2 mechanism, which was tested on the next day. Cramming for that was not an experience you wish to repeat. You want to say that things have gotten better since you last saw grandmother, but that would be a lie.

And the one person you cannot lie to is her. You’ve always been good at calling out bullshit.

As you walk to the old maintenance shed, you ponder about how you first met grandmother. You had just come into your coat, packless and alone. It didn’t help that at the time you were struggling to find the motivation to finish the damn honors program you had forced upon you by an overbearing father. You were out late one night, after an argument that left you weary and frustrated, and feeling more alone than ever. You went and bought a cup of coffee and a monster. You preferred the energy that caffeine gives, the burning taste of the monster as you chug it and the follow up of a bitter cup of coffee. During those days, bitter seemed fitting. Looking back, you realize how dark you felt. Like a black dog hounding at your door, a sense of weariness and hopelessness weighing you down. You had a good life, and you knew that then as well, but sometimes life gets too much, and your family is dysfunctional. It was during that wandering, after the downing of caffeine, that you came across an old wooden door leading to the pool maintenance shed by the community pool your neighborhood had. You were positive that the door was supposed to be just a white gate, but you were too fed up with everything to care. Having recently been the full moon a day ago only made you disregard any safety concerns you might have. The sense of adrenaline and power it got always stayed with you for a few days. The door was locked when you first found it, so naturally you knocked. Surprisingly, an old woman answered.

You and grandmother had an uneasy start. You weren’t in a mood to be told what to do by someone who had no idea what you were dealing with, and she wasn’t about to take crap from a mouthy little teenager. You stormed out that first night, but came back the next full moon, and began to realize that something was off about her. The way she spoke seemed too familiar, as did her mannerisms. Finally, it dawned on you when you saw what was hanging around her neck, having received the same gift from your current s/o two days prior. When you began to ask she cut you off—you still remember her words clearly “Yes, that is what you think. Yes, it is mine. Yes, I am you. No, I cannot tell you anything about my life. No, I’m not sure how this happened either. Yes, you can still visit and ask me questions, but I cannot tell you anything. If I do, it may not happen, and who knows what else will change. And no, time is not linear but you already suspected this. You can only visit me once a lunar month, and now that you have chosen a cycle, the door will only be here around the full moon. And yes, I know what you are wolf-child.” After that, she gave you the key to the door, citing that getting up every damn time was tiring.

At this time, you approached the door. Your hand pauses on the handle. You’re normally so sure of going in, but this time you know that you’ll only get frustrated. Things have not gotten better since your last visit. Sure, you’re doing ok in math, but your family is starting to implode. Your sister failed out of high school, and is dragging her feet about an online program, which she cites she’s been wanting for years. You don’t want her to fail, but there’s no help of yours that she will take. Every time you’ve tried you’ve been met with scorn and “It’s my life I’ll do what I want.” Worst of all, you’re father seems to regard the whole thing as a minor inconvenience to both him and your sister. HE doesn’t even try to help any more, citing “I can’t watch her do her work, I can’t force her to get up or do it.” It’s a defeatist attitude that makes your blood boil. These are his children not some wayward friend you can gently push to do better, and he needs to fucking parent and stop being the friend. You sigh, and sit with your back against the door. The smell of the sea drifts through the cracks, the crashing waves soothes you. You know that your dad is doing the best he feels he can, but you know he can do more. Part of your anger is born out of jealousy, jealousy that she is allowed to quit where you are not. Jealousy that she is allowed to claim depression as an excuse for literally every single action she does, where you cannot even mention it lest you get the spiel “I’m worried about your darkness, you should smile more, do this activity again, don’t look into how the world works you’ll attract demons”. Little does your father know how many you are friends with. Your best friend in childhood was literally half fae-half demon, and recently married a demon. You sigh, and lean your head against the door. It is then that the smell of coffee reaches your nose and the door is suddenly opened, and you tumble backwards, and grandmother is above you.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come in for 10 minutes, you smell like sadness and wet dog. I always know when you’re close by. Now, take this cup and sit down.” You stand and take the cup of coffee, glancing over at the fancy French press on the counter.

“That’s new. I didn’t even know you drank coffee.” In all your visits, she has never once made or asked for coffee.

“I do, but not as often as I used to. I get enough rest now that it is only when I feel like it.” Grandmother is sipping form her own cup, but she takes her coffee with only a hint of cream. “Cream and honey is on the table.” You take the opportunity to fix up your coffee and seat yourself.

“Now, I have a guess as to why you’re so upset, and why you are so hesitant to be here. I cannot offer any advice in this matter. I cannot help you at all with this. And neither can you. You already know that the child will do as she pleases, and that she has to first be in a state where she is receptive to help. You already know, but this bears repeating: You’re not responsible for the emotional well-being of your family. You are not responsible for raising your siblings. You are not responsible for the emotions and health of anyone but yourself.”

You know all this. You’ve been told this indirectly and directly a thousand times. But still you’re not appeased. “I know grandmother, but it still stings that I cannot help. I want to be there, but you’re right. There’s nothing to do about it and it isn’t fair. It’s not fair that my siblings are failing because dad refuses to acknowledge the problems his children have.”

Grandmother smiles softly, “ ‘No, it isn’t but that’s the way it is’ An accurate quote, even if the movie is wildly off about the nature of goblins.”

You manage to crack a smile “I haven’t seen that movie in years. But what I do remember is far off from what goblins are, jareth is more akin to the lord of the hu—“

“Nope. No. Not in my house. Do not mention his title even. It’s still the full moon and I had so much to clean up after they passed by last time. My joints cannot take another hunt.” Grandmother interrupts.

“My apologies Grandmother. I should’ve known better, but my mind is really scrambled right now. Between finals, and my family, and my pack I barley have time to myself anymore.”

“All is well child. Just be careful, alright? The world is turbulent right now and it stirs them up more than ever. Anyways, while I cannot help you, someone else can. Go to the student center, on the second floor. The counseling center is free to students for walk-ins. They are there to help, and they have likely heard this story before. Now, it is late for you and too early for me. Go on outside and run with your pack. The exercise will clear your mind. The coffee is a gift, freely given. Just finish it now before you leave, else you might get stuck in the door.” She put the contents of the French press into a tumbler and puts it in the fridge to cool, for later presumably. You chug the remainder of the coffee.

“Thank you Grandmother. Somehow, talking with you makes things seem clearer. I’ll see you later. Try not to over excite your circulatory system” you smile, the dig at her health did not go unnoticed.

“Brat. I will drink as much coffee as I want. Now go, I’m going to take one of those ‘coffee naps’ before heading to the beach. Just give yourself time child.” She swats your arm playfully as you exit.

The warm summer air is refreshing, and you smell faintly of coffee and the sea as you make your way to the pack-house.

#my writing #original fiction #im starting to slowly explore the more paranormal aspects of life in this but its sitll ust about relationships and how to deal with stuff

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