Exposure Therapy

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/12802299.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Labyrinth (1986)
Relationship: Jareth/Sarah Williams, Jareth & Sarah Williams
Character: Jareth (Labyrinth), Sarah Williams (Labyrinth)
Additional Tags: Dark Humor, Quasi dark Jareth, Fandom trope parody
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2017-11-23 Words: 5720

Exposure Therapy
by KBates

Summary

Summary: Consulting a magical psychiatrist to get rid of his fixation on Sarah Williams,
the Goblin King decides desperate times call for desperate measures. He agrees to be
‘exposed’ to 8 forms of Sarah to ‘cure’ his obsession for once and for all. Sareth. Quasi dark
Jareth. Dark humor. Implied HEA.

Notes

Disclaimer: I don’t own Labyrinth or related characters.

AN: Fingers crossed – DC should have been updated by Sunday. But…my husband signed
me up for a 10K run on Sunday…as a ‘surprise’ (I’m seriously going to kill him one day)…
so hopefully it’ll be done by Monday. I got stuck on a few plot points writing the chapter,
so came up with this as a fun exercise. Hope you like it.

See the end of the work for more notes

--

A Woman Bound

“So…Your Highness,” the healer says in her calm, melodious voice, “…now that we’ve decided
on exposure therapy, have you obtained Sa-” The King’s steely gaze makes her catch herself in
time—the woman’s name had been forbidden. “Let me rephrase that—have you obtained the
mortal’s consent?”

The Goblin King smiles, a flash of feral teeth. “In a manner of speaking, Vita.”

Vita looks at her King, her patient at the moment, concerned. His eyes flash with malice, the lines
on his face are tightly drawn. He’s known for being a tad bit dangerous when he looks like this.
“We require significant help from her if this…process…is to be continued.”

Jareth’s smile turns into a maniacal grin, one that stretches from one pointy ear to the next. “I have
a feeling she’ll agree to help as much as she can.” He turns to look at the door that leads into his
chambers. “Bring her in.”

Vita gapes, open mouthed as a mortal woman is brought, nay, dragged in by a bunch of shoddily
dressed goblins. Her hands are bound behind her back, she has a scarf tied around her mouth—but
her eyes blaze pure fire.

“Your Highness,” Vita screeches in protest, jumping up. She’s a healer dammit—not some lowly
goblin that could be persuaded to do the King’s rather illegal bidding. “Mortals cannot be brought
here without their consent.”

For his part, the King stares coolly at the bound and gagged woman, a laconic brow raised. “Looks
like I can do exactly that.” He gives the mortal woman a mock bow as she’s placed in an adjacent
armchair, “In any case, I have a feeling Sarah will give her consent sooner rather than later.” With
a sleight of hand, he vanishes her makeshift gag.

As expected, Sarah Williams goes on a vitriolic tirade—her rage a blazing inferno. “You fucking
psychopath—crazy, tyrannical fucking psychopath. Your goblins kidnapped me while I was at
work! I can’t bel-” Poor Sarah’s words are cut off as the Goblin King makes the gag reappear.

“Do be quiet for a few seconds, my darling,” he croons before turning back to his very
uncomfortable looking healer. “As I was saying, while Sarah may throw a tantrum like a child—
she, too, will benefit if I am cured of this…disease.” He lifts his hand—the scarf disappears.

An infuriated Sarah glares at the Goblin King, her face turning a remarkable shade of tomato red.
“You insufferable bastard, you’re saying you kidnapped me for my own benefit? Of all the fuck-”
…and just like that the scarf reappears.

A slow, delighted laugh. “My darling, you look like you’re going to breathe fire any moment,”
Jareth teases his obsession, unfazed by the scorching fury in her glare. “She’ll come around, Vita—
tell us about this exposure therapy of yours.”

Vita decides to humor her liege—after all, what choice does she have. “It’s not mine, Your
Highness—mortals have done this for decades. Except they use it for erasing phobias. I suggest we
use this technique to er…rid you of your amorous feelings for the mortal.” Vita flinches as Sarah’s
heated glare is aimed at her…still, between the two, he is far more terrifying, and she’ll have to
play by his rules.

Jareth considers this—a finger to his lips—before he turns to Sarah, eyes dancing with glee. “What
do you say, precious thing?” He vanishes her gag, expecting an answer.

“It is a miracle that I am not murdering you on the spot, Jareth. How-fucking-dare you kidnap
me!” Sarah Williams gives zero fucks about anything right now, save for vengeance that is. “Did
you forget that we dated for a whole six months? Weren’t you exposed enough? Your crazy
stalking behavior grew crazier. Do you think I’m at your mer-”
Jareth grins as he hears her growl through her gag—a muffled sound. He looks to the healer, a
brow arched high. “She’s not entirely wrong, Vita—the more time I spend with her, the more
obsessed I get. The last thing I need is to turn into a complete raging lunatic.”

Sarah gives out a stifled noise that sounds very much like a derisive scoff—Vita coughs nervously.

Vita sighs—there are so many things ethically wrong with kidnapping a mortal woman, but she
doubts her King is going to listen to reason. “I propose that we reverse the pleasantness of the
stimulus.”

“Hmm,” Jareth thinks, a riding crop suddenly appearing in his grasp—he taps he metal tip against
his leather boots. “I’m not entirely sure Vita—even now, as unpleasant and barbaric as she is, I
feel like…” his thought drifts off as he stares at the mortal woman…his mortal, once…his gaze
heated in a different manner altogether.

“Surely, Your Highness, you wouldn’t!” Vita exclaims, completely appalled.

“Wouldn’t I?” Jareth drawls to no one in particular, before laughing a rich, resonant laugh. “I
suppose not—no, I prefer driving her mad with fury,” he tells his healer, his blood running hot as
memories play through his head. “You should see the marks she leaves on my body with her
teeth…”

“Ehem, Your Highness,” Vita interrupts him nervously—she wants no part of whatever twisted
relationship these two have. Or had, rather. “It’s a simple magic spell. With the young woman’s
consent, she’ll show you…uh…alternate sides to herself that will make you see her in a less
appealing manner.”

Jareth grimaces when the healer brings up consent…blasted consent rules…always ruining his
plans. He looks at the furious mortal sitting next to him with genuine curiosity. “Would you agree,
precious thing?”

Counting 1 to 10 as slowly as she can, Sarah Williams keeps herself from screaming bloody murder
as the gag disappears once again. She looks at Jareth’s magical psychiatrist instead of the Goblin
King himself—“What do you need from me?”

Vita lets out a deep breath—this crack pot plan may just work yet. “You would be required to stay
here for a few days until the spell wears off—wherein you’ll interact with His Majesty and cause
him adequate grief.”

And with those words, Sarah’s eyes light up. Cause him grief? That’s music to her ears—her own
personal manna from heaven. “You mean I get to turn the tables and harass him instead?”

Vita trembles as the King fixes her with a frosty glare. “Not quite, but your behavior will be
atrocious enough that His Majesty will no longer be fixated on you.”

Jareth almost growls as he looks at Sarah, her face lost in thought. “This is for the best, precious
thing—it works for you and-”

“I agree.” Sarah agrees, interrupting Jareth mid-sentence. “I get to harass the crap out of Jareth and
he leaves me alone after that? Sounds perfect.”

--

The Hysteric
The Goblin King lets out a string of curses, mostly at his healer who seems to have mysteriously
disappeared for a few days…after turning him into her personal guinea pig in this, so called
exposure therapy experiment.

“Sarah, calm down,” he says through clenched teeth. “No harm is going to befall you.”

A…different…Sarah Williams looks up at the enraged King, her green eyes wide in panic. “Let me
go, Jareth—I beat you!” She screams—taking no notice of the fact that the Goblin King stands
significantly far from her, holding his hands to his ears.

“Enough of this!” The King roars, his fury getting the best of him. “I will not have you behave-”

Unfortunately, his admonishments are interrupted by a loud wail. “YOU HAVE NO POWER
OVER ME.”

“Listen to me you infuriating mortal, I don’t want power over you. Stop this hysterical nonsense,
eat your dinner and go to sleep!”

At the word sleep, Sarah’s already panicked expression turns comically so. “Sleep? OH MY GOD
you said sleep. You’re going to rape me. You took my brother even though I wished him away in
the first place, you’re evil, the very definition of the devil.”

Jareth gapes—unsure of how to respond to that.

And then her panic turns into gut churning anger. “YOU BASTARD. You’ve gone from
kidnapping children to women? Can’t get one without forcing her? YOU HAVE NO POWER
OVER ME.” She adds the last part for good measure.

At this point, the Goblin King holds his wild haired head in his tired hands. “I can’t be exposed to
this side of you any longer.” Saying that, he entrusts the care of his mortal to a chamber maid and
heads straight for his bar.

--

The Nice Girl

Jareth eyes the girl sitting across from him and eating breakfast, with suspicion. She is a
completely different person today—she even looks different. Her hair is slightly bushy, her face
scrubbed clean but free of cosmetics—she wears what mortals call jeans and a play gray t-shirt. He
frowns—while the real Sarah, his Sarah, did wear jeans and t-shirts, she wore the form fitting,
flattering kind. Not the…potato sack rendition that this version of Sarah is wearing. Still, he’s
thankful the screaming has stopped.

“Breakfast to your liking, then?” he asks, attempting to make conversation.

She looks up, icy jade eyes suddenly warm with gratitude. “Of course, you’ve been so kind to me
when the whole world has been so awful. I don’t know how I can ever thank you.”

Jareth’s jaw drops open—the real Sarah definitely didn’t thank him as if he were some kind of god
for mere breakfast. She saved those for multiple orgasms and such. “It’s only breakfast,” he says,
more than a little weirded out.

“This dress you’ve given me is so beautiful,” she gushes—pulling out a second rate medieval
costume that makes Jareth’s stomach turn with disgust. Good grief, real Sarah wouldn’t be caught
dead in that.
“Don’t mention it,” the Goblin King says, wondering what he should do next…how he should
escape this torturous breakfast session more like. This version of Sarah is dead boring and more
than a little unnerving. “I have some work that I must complete…”

She peers at him—wide eyed. “But I thought you’d conjure up some music and dance with me,”
she says wistfully. “We can pretend we’re at medieval world or all those renaissance fares I used to
attend in high school.” Her eyes glow with wistful excitement. “Or a Jane Austen novel.”

Just as Jareth is about to come up with a response that’ll allow him to flee, the doors to the dining
chambers burst open as his Royal Guard comes barging in.

“Your Majesty,” the woman dressed in black armor says with a bow. “Security measures must be
rev-”

The Captain of the Royal Guard never gets to complete her sentence, as an enraged Sarah moves
forward to stand in between them, arms crossed.

“Listen to me, you blond bimbo bitch,” Sarah growls, “Just because you’re a pretty little slut
throwing yourself at him doesn’t mean you can have him.”

The Captain looks at her liege, completely confused. “Sire?”

Jareth opens his mouth to calm her down, but Sarah interrupts him with a shrieking noise that
sounds like a cat in heat crossed with a donkey braying. “Tell that whore,” Sarah demands,
pointing at the Captain, “Tell her that you love me, that you’ll always love me, and that it doesn’t
matter that I’m plain with no sense of style—that’s what you love about me, my plainness.”

Dear gods. Jareth gapes at the delusional, jealous mortal—Vita hadn’t been lying. The more he’s
exposed to Sarah, the more he feels like running for the hills.

“Uh…sire?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Jareth turns his rather bewildered gaze onto Sarah, who seems to be
on the verge of physically attacking his Captain like a feral cat. Good lord. He steps in
immediately, holding Sarah so that she is immobilized.

“I shall seek you shortly, Captain.” Saying that he transports them to the room he’s allotted Sarah,
who jumps on the bed and cajoles him with her fingers.

“What are you doing?” Jareth asks, mesmerized, yet freaked out at the same time.

Sarah raises her brows. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m waiting for you to fuck me senseless and tell me how
much better looking, smarter, nicer, kinder I am than that blond slut.”

He frowns, the narcissist in him getting annoyed. “What’s with the persistent dislike of blonds?
You realize that I am a blond.”

Sarah laughs. “I only insult blond women with stereotypic, misogynistic insults. You’re safe.”

Jareth finds himself open mouthed once again—the girl is a lunatic. A boring one at that. The
Goblin King decides to cut his losses and run instead of taking her invitation. “I’ll be right back,”
he lies as he disappears from her view.

--
 The No-Means-Yes Version

Jareth reluctantly knocks on his obsession’s (well on her way to becoming his former obsession at
the moment) door—he’s somewhat impressed that Vita’s exposure therapy seems to be working.

“Sarah?” He walks in tentatively when she doesn’t answer. His mouth falls open when he sees her,
his apprehension vanishes into thin air…well, it morphs into something else entirely.

Sarah sits on the bed in white lace panties and a matching bra—a vision of purity. Her eyes are
wide and breathing shallow.

Smirking a slow smirk, Jareth saunters his way across the room and sits on her bed. “You look so
pure and innocent, precious thing,” …he pauses, eyes boring into hers. “How I wish to turn you
absolutely filthy.”

Sarah responds with a sigh, her body flushing…and just as Jareth’s about to pounce, she lets out a
sound that confuses him. Is that a moan? Or a whimper? Jareth pulls back and studies the
woman…something’s not right. Is she excited? Or is she afraid?

“Precious?” He extends a gloved hand, but doesn’t touch her as she scurries back.

“Don’t,” she says, chest heaving. “My pupils may be dilated, my pulse may beat a thousand times
too fast,” she scurries away some more, “and my panties may be completely wet, but don’t touch
me. I don’t want to…” her voice turns into a whisper as if she’s a child about to curse, “have sex
with you.”

The Goblin King pulls back, his face a comical vision of shock. What in-all-the-seven-hells version
of Sarah is this? “Very well,” he tries reassuring the woman, a frown gracing his forehead when he
realizes that she’s still whimpering in fear…or is it desire? She’s damn hard to read.

“I may turn into the 40-year-old virgin one day…or someone who develops vicious carpal tunnel
syndrome pleasuring myself, but I will not have sex with you. I won’t give in. YOU HAVE NO
POWER OVER ME.”

Jareth winces—there she goes with that damned phrase again. “I hear you precious thing, you
don’t have to shout.”

Sarah stares at him, her hair covering half her face, full lips parted. She takes in deep breaths, chest
rising up and down with each gasp.

Once again, Jareth looks at the woman before him in confusion. The way she looks right now
makes him want to entangle his hands in her hair and devour her whole. He moves a bit forward…
only to growl and move back as she whimpers again.

“I am going have some breakfast, Sarah—join me if you want.” Jareth stands up, dusting
imaginary lint off his jacket in a huff. He’ll be damned if he lets her torment him any further.

It’s Sarah’s turn to look shocked—her pouty lips parted in a perfect O. “You’re just going to
leave?”

Jareth glares—the woman has the gall to sound offended. “Yes. You’re behaving in a manner that I
find strange—and that’s saying something.”

Letting out an angry sigh, Sarah, or this version of Sarah, rather, glares at the Goblin King—as if
she’s been wronged somehow. “Who is going to fuck me senseless if you leave?”
The King gapes. “I beg your pardon?”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “I have issues okay? Religious parents—fuck all red state community—good
girls don’t have sex. They don’t ‘give in.’ I need you to shove me down while I say no—bury your
face in between my thighs and mouth rape me until I beg you to stop.”

The King remains in a gaping state. “Is this a kink of yours?”

She makes a sound—something between a sigh and a growl. “Not a kink, no. Just plain old sexual
repression. I get to pass my bible instructor’s checklist of ‘what makes a pure woman’ and I get to
fuck you silly, while being a good girl who follows the rules of patriarchy. It’s a win, win.”

Holy fuck—he thinks, using one of her expressions to curse. Backing away slowly, he half runs,
half stumbles, rather inelegantly for a Goblin King, to the entrance of the room. “I shall be back in
a few moments.”

Of course, he doesn’t return.

--

The Submissive Lolita

The Goblin King frowns as he assesses the woman in front of him—she looks…well…very
different than any of the Sarahs he’s encountered. For one, she’s younger. Much younger.

“How old are you, Sarah?” he asks, for curiosity’s sake.

She looks up at him and grins. “Seventeen.”

He gulps. Too young, Jareth—too young, he tells himself. “And what problems do you have?”

Her grin widens. “Problems? Problems are for old people.”

Jareth lets out a breath in relief—a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. After all the
disturbing Sarahs he’s encountered, this one seems to be a breath of fresh air. Now if only she
wasn’t so damned tempting. “Any other…issues?” he asks reluctantly.

Seventeen-year-old Sarah raises a defiant brow. “I was late for breakfast,” she says, her voice
taking on a sing-song-ish quality.

“So?”

The girl gives him a Cheshire cat like grin. “Won’t you punish me, Jareth?”

Jareth notices two things simultaneously—first, he’s as hard as a rock, stupid fucking libido.
Second, this seventeen-year-old seems to be playing him like a fiddle. Still…it wouldn’t harm to
ask her what she means, would it?

“Is that something that happens regularly between us?” Jareth asks, voice lowered by an octave.

She stands up, her shorts barely covering the tops of her thighs, her t-shirt riding up so that it
exposes a band of skin. She walks over to his side of the dining table, feet totally bare and nails
colored with bright, canary yellow nail polish. “I defy you constantly by doing something silly—
you punish me—where is your crop?”

He almost stammers out a response when she sits on his lap, straddling him. Still…it wouldn’t
harm to conjure up his crop as she asked, would it?

“What do you want with my crop?” his voice is lower still.

Getting off of his lap, she makes a dramatic show of bending over his knee—her shorts riding up
higher still. “You alternate between striking me with your crop and making me come with your
fingers—you make me associate agonizing pain with pleasure—a craving for your touch alone.”
Twisting her neck, she looks back up at him. “What are you waiting for, Your Majesty?”

His blood boils with pure, unadulterated lust—it wouldn’t harm to…NO, his conscience kicks in.
Sarah would never forgive him if he fucked a seventeen-year-old version of herself. She wasn’t
into perverts…not that kind of pervert anyway. Still…he looks at the expanse of creamy flesh laid
out before him…so ripe for the taking. It would be so easy to just…NO, don’t even think about it.
But what’s the harm? The girl seems ready—after all, age is only a number…he can’t help it, his
caresses the skin on her thighs in long strokes.

She moans. “Strike me for my disobedience…for my defiance” she begs. “Please…daddy.”

And just like that, the Goblin King’s painfully inflated appendage goes limp. Daddy? He almost
shoves the girl off of his knee and scrambles up to a standing position. “What did you call me?”

The girl doesn’t seem fazed—she grins at him wickedly. “My father spends all his time with my
stepmother…or actually, he’s dead…either scenario works,” she laughs—a deceptively innocent
sound. “Doesn’t matter—I desperately need a father figure Your Majesty…someone to tame my
unruly behavior. Won’t you help a girl out?”

Jareth chokes. “No. I am not your father.” He shouldn’t be attracted to her, not like this—but
dammit, he is. “And I have no desire to be your father.”

She pouts. “Technically, you’re much older than my father…or even my grandfather, what
difference does it make? Buy me clothes and shoes and pay my bills—beat me, fuck me whenever
you feel like it.”

The Goblin King doesn’t bother saying goodbye—this time, he disappears right out of her room…
and into his shower.

The mortal is going to be the death of him, he’s sure of it. Within a span of 20 minutes, the girl had
raised such conflicting desires within his very being…desire, disgust, hunger.

He turns his shower to the coldest setting possible

--

The Author Self-Insert

The Goblin King finds himself pacing the hallway outside Sarah’s allotted room—he runs a
nervous hand through his hair. Curse that mortal woman—no one’s ever made him this
apprehensive in all his existence.

Just as he’s about to knock on the door, the door blasts open and a decidedly different Sarah barges
out. Her skin’s developed just a tiny bit of golden hue, her eyes much darker than their usual shade
of green. Her hair’s more chestnut than sable, with an auburn undertone…and her frame’s…well…
small. She’s shrunk!

“Who the hell kept me in here, locked?” she demands, her voice much higher pitched than normal,
but loud. Gods, she’s loud.

“It is for your own safety, precious thing,” Jareth tries soothing her…he doesn’t know what to
make of this Sarah. She’s like a whirlwind packed into a very petite human.

She gives him a very unladylike ‘pshaw’! “I’ve trekked through the Himalayan foothills, blondie—
I’ve seen the great apes in the Congo while escorted by the UN peace troops because of rebels—
I’ve fucking flown coach in some of the weirdest airlines ever. Your castle doesn’t scare me. In
fact,” she gives him a maniacal grin, “I was thinking of going exploring. Join me if you dare.”
Saying that she runs away, leaving an open mouthed Goblin King behind.

It takes a few seconds for Jareth to process what just happened. Had Sarah called him blondie? Had
she dared him to follow her around? Had she said something about apes? Hold up! He looks
around…where the hell did she go?

Whirlwind Sarah decides to make good use of her time before blondie catches up and places her
back under room-arrest. Within a span of two hours, she teaches an unruly band of goblins about
universal rights and how they’re getting screwed. She raids the Goblin King’s stock of liquor and
finishes a prized bottle of single malt scotch. More than a little drunk, she flits from one formal
room to another writing ‘Jareth’s an unmitigated ass’ in his most expensive tapestries…with
permanent marker. And then she raids the kitchens, finishing an entire chocolate cake before
feeling more than a little sick.

Jareth finds her in the kitchens, clutching her stomach. “You,” he thunders, stalking up to her
crouched figure on the floor. He pulls his shoulders back and stands up, tall. “Do you know-”

Unfortunately, the Goblin King’s rebuke is interrupted as she hurls out chocolate cake and scotch
right onto his prized, dragon leather boots.

--

Interlude

“I’ve had enough of this nonsense, Vita,” Jareth rages at his healer—the expression in his eyes
wilder than his hair. “Trust me, I’m cured of this obsession. Let’s cut our losses and end this agony
for all involved.”

“Your Majesty, it seems most unwise to-”

Vita’s reply is cut short by Jareth’s impatient growl. “I don’t care—half my castle goblins have
started rebelling because I don’t pay them enough or offer health benefits. Those blasted creatures
live in my castle free of rent, eat my food free of charge, and are not inflicted by any disease what-
so-ever.”

“But do you pay them, Your Majesty?”

Jareth’s pale eyes turn biting cold. “Vita,” he says, voice deceptively soft, “Did you just contradict
me?”

The healer pales considerably before shaking her head with much enthusiasm. “Not at all, Your
Majesty. There are only two more versions left—perhaps it would be wise to stay the course as
you’ve already come so far.”

“Perhaps,” Jareth agrees reluctantly. “But if she causes any more rebellions, I shall personally hold
you responsible.”
--

The Socially Awkward, Friendless, Not-so-pretty Girl (AKA The SAFNG)

The next version of Sarah has Jareth wondering whether he should laugh or cry. To see his glorious
nemesis so reduced in stature and wroth is satisfying like nothing else. Yet…he can’t help but feel
extremely offended on her behalf. This had to be the most awful rendition yet…not because Sarah
is unbearable, but because she’s so…well…he doesn’t know quite how to put it, except that she
may as well have been a house plant. A not so attractive one.

“Would you like to listen to me read Wuthering Heights aloud?” she asks, her dull eyes seemingly
excited at the thought.

Jareth shakes his head—this has pretty much been the extent of their conversation. “No, my dear—
I find Heathcliff to be an incompetent fool and Catherine to be, well, possibly an even more
incompetent fool.”

Her face falls. “How about Jane Eyre?”

Jareth lets out an involuntary scoff. “Gods no. That novel’s even more insufferable.” He curses
himself as he sees her eyes fill with tears. “Surely, you don’t wish to spend your time reading aloud
—humans have far more to entertain with in this modern day and age, do they not?”

She makes a face. “Yes, but I don’t watch TV, or read contemporary books—even non-fiction
books on trade and politics, or even listen to contemporary music. I’m special that way—I’m so
much smarter than the rest of the world’s unenlightened population.”

He frowns. “How about your peers, are they as smart as you, or do they fall under the
unenlightened category?”

She smiles, but doesn’t look him in the eye—she has all the self-confidence of an agoraphobic
turtle. “I don’t have any friends…not real ones anyway. That’s why I only keep in touch with
Hoggle and Ludo and Sir Didymus…and now you. That’s why you love me, isn’t it?—I’m so
special and real—not like those fake people who actually have social lives and do things.”

Jareth’s taken aback at that. Special and real? Who is this woman kidding? “How about your
profession? Surely, there are some worthy friends you can make there?”

She sighs. “Everyone looks at me weird because I can barely talk…in front of real people, that is.
Men have never been interested in me because they’re either intimidated by my extreme
intelligence or they actually expect me to have a conversation at some point—can you believe it? I
save my conversations for special beings.”

“Hang on, have you done anything with your life at all?”

“Of course I have!” she cries. “I have an undergraduate degree in English literature—something
only the smartest of people can achieve. I’m not like those stupid, dumb, blond sluts who major in
business and actually make a decent living—who’d want to do that?”

Oh dear gods. Here she goes again—with the blond hate. “Alright, let’s not start with the name
calling, precious thing,” he says in a soothing voice. “I am curious about one thing, though—how
do you know you’re one of the most intelligent humans in your realm?”

She rolls her eyes—that’s easy. “First, I’m not so pretty—I know you’re going to protest
vehemently and say I’m the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on—but that’s only true to
you. But that’s okay because everybody knows pretty girls are the dumbest and sluttiest girls
ever.”

Jareth raises a brow. The logic makes no sense to him—however, he is still intrigued. “Carry on.”

“Second—hello—English undergraduate degree, maybe a master’s degree in the future. Not even
nuclear scientists are as smart as English majors. Third—shy. Shy, awkward people are
automatically super smart. And Fourth—my non-existent social life. I spend hours talking to
myself every day because I have no friends—that’s what makes me the smartest of all.”

He can’t help his mouth from opening wider and wider until his jaw can’t take it anymore. This has
got to be the stupidest logic he’s ever heard.

“I…um…” he thinks of an excuse to run away. “I’m going to get you the ‘smartest human in the
world’ trophy—stay here.”

Jareth goes off to find Vita and give her a piece of his mind. This therapy session is driving him
absolutely mad.

--

The Defiant One

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sarah asks, a frown furrowing her brows.

Jareth looks visibly relieved when she continues eating breakfast like a halfway normal person
would, without any incident. This is the absolute last version of her that he has to withstand—a few
more hours and this surprisingly helpful therapy session will be over. He certainly feels as if he’s
over his obsessive fixation. Hell, he may have developed a Sarah-phobia of sorts in the process.

“Would you like some more orange juice, Sarah?” he asks—no harm in being cordial, the woman
will be out of his castle in a few hours.

Without any warning, Sarah huffs angrily at the Goblin King, her eyes glowing with rage. “I don’t
want orange juice—I don’t drink orange juice Jareth, what is wrong with you?”

Poor Jareth shrinks back, suddenly afraid. “How about coffee then?”

She scoffs derisively. “If it’s you who’s offering it, I won’t drink it.”

He raises a brow. “What if I ask a maid to hand a carafe over to you?”

She laughs now—a harsh sound. “Forget it, Goblin King. You said ‘how about coffee’ and I said
‘no.’ YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME. Whatever you say, I’m going to do the opposite
because I’m fucking defiant. So…in your face!”

Groaning when he hears that goddamned line again, Jareth scrubs his eyes with his hands. When
would this torture finally be over? “Fine, don’t drink coffee.”

“Aha!” she jeers. “Trying to trick me. Now I’m going to drink the coffee just to spite you because
YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME.”

Dear gods, he’s going to go stark raving mad. He signals the attendant to the table.

“Your Majesty?”
“Go to my bar and bring me the bottle of liquor that has the strongest possible alcohol content.”

“But Sire, it’s 10 in the morning.”

“JUST DO IT.”

--

A Switch in Roles

(Two weeks later…)

Vita sits in her office, surprised to find the Goblin King and his former obsession sitting across
from her. “I thought the results were favorable for all involved?” she asks.

The Goblin King looks at his healer with an avidly smug, toothy grin. “To my liking, for sure. I
hold no qualms about letting Sarah enjoy her mortal life without any interference from my end.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

The mortal woman coughs. “I think I may need the treatment now—I’ve been unhealthily attracted
to Jareth ever since he stopped being attracted to me. There’ve been some…embarrassing…
incidents and I’d like to get rid of this feeling.”

The King’s healer gapes. “What kinds of incidents?”

Sarah’s face turns the same, lovely shade of tomato red that the healer had previously witnessed.
“They’re private incidents.”

“My, my precious, I’m beginning to get intrigued. Are you sure this isn’t a ploy to get my
attention…especially now that you don’t hold my interest?”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, before looking at the healer. “Do you think the reverse would work?”

Vita raises her brows. “I don’t know—the King’s alternate forms may be dangerous to you.”

Jareth stands, eyeing Sarah with look of bored disinterest. “Perhaps I’ll help you—I suggest you go
back to your realm and await my presence.”

Sarah seethes, but does as she’s asked—what else can she do? She needs the bastard’s cooperation
for this to work.

As soon as Sarah is out of the room, Jareth grins at his healer. “Vita, my darling healer—I’m going
to send you to an all-expense paid vacation to the Amalfi coast.”

“What—why?” the healer blurts out before she can contain herself. She’s surprised that the King’s
suddenly become so…happy…for the lack of a better word.

His grin turns sharp. “Why indeed. Because of your rather useless therapy technique, I seem to
have obtained what I most desire—Sarah’s interest.”

“But what use would that be, now that you’re cured of your own obsession?” Vita asks, still not
quite getting the full picture.

And just like that, the King’s grin goes from sharp to downright feral. “My obsession was cured
for a few hours, Vita—I’ve accepted my fate that Sarah Williams is the very fire that makes my
 soul burn with life.”

“That…erm…makes no sense.”

“It doesn’t have to—not to you anyway,” comes the King’s cold reply. “In any case, Sarah thinks
I’m going to be spending time with her for exposure therapy—when, in fact, I’ll be doing
other…things, which I’m sure she’ll appreciate.” He completes the thought with an ominous yet
sexy chuckle.

“Your Majesty, are you-”

“Off you go,” he drawls, vanishing the woman into the ether...and right into a villa he’s rented in
the Amalfi coast.

Sarah, Sarah, tempestuous Sarah—he thinks, conjuring up his riding crop. I can’t wait for us to
begin this…session.

--

Fin.

Cue Jareth’s ominous, dark chuckle.

--

End Notes

He’s a crafty one.

We like? We don’t like? A little mean, but funny? A little too mean? Gimme your thoughts.

*Author self-insert Sarah would be 22-ish.

Have started writing original story – is on Ao3 and my Tumblr (maybe easier to read on
Ao3).

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!