fickle_obsessed: (Tucker is more awesome than you)
[personal profile] fickle_obsessed
Malcolm still remembers the first time he saw her - an almost teenager with bleached blonde hair tottering on kitten heels when she looked like she’d be much more comfortable in Doc Marten’s, then again who wouldn’t? She had to air, back then, of someone wearing a professional costume - awkward and uncomfortable like she was wearing the wrong skin. He’d had a bet on with Hugh at the time that she wouldn’t make it past her first day, let alone her first week, before going arse over tits in those stupid heels you could tell she hadn’t mastered walking in.

He won that bet, of course, not even making it to lunchtime before the unceremoniously tripped, presumably over her own feet, papers flying everywhere as she went. He hadn’t even tried not to laugh at her - if she was going to work here she couldn’t expect people to try and spare her feelings after all. When she told him to fuck off everyone within earshot had held their breath and waited for the bollcoking. It never came - sometimes you just had to reward someone for having the guts to say that to him.

They call in a career but that’s a huge understatement - it isn’t a career it’s your entire fucking life. Or his entire life at least. He lost everything to that job - a wife, his friends the possibility of ever having a family. He should’ve known better, should’ve ducked out before it was too late instead of letting himself get promoted year by year, rising up in the rank while everything else dropped away left behind. And it’s not like didn’t see the warning signs, watched bigger, stronger men than him get eaten away by it. Bigger maybe but not more driven, not more passionate and definitely not more stubborn. So what if it cost him his entire life? Wasn’t making the country a better place worth that sacrifice?

and too hot for him. And it still feels weird, not working 20 hours a day and having a constant headache (both literal and metaphorical), he still finds himself a bit too interested in what’s going on with the party, but it isn’t his problem anymore, is it? No, they took care of that by forcing him to resign, but it can’t be too angry, not anymore, not when he gets to wake someone up with coffee and breakfast in bed and actually spend time with them. She waited long enough for him after all, the least he can do is attempt to make up for it now.

Sarah had started having the dreams again, they’d felt like nightmares when she was younger but these days not so much, then again the dreams were quite different than they’d been back then. She was no longer searching for her baby brother, no longer running and being tricked and laughed at by a man whose name she could never quite grasp,

The place was still the same - the underground city full of fairies and goblins and neverending pathways, but these days she knew her way around, She wasn’t scared, or angry, or even frustrated. She was happy, loved even, something she always felt in those dreams, leaving her disappointed when she awoke and that feeling faded all too fast.

She remembered his name now - the beautiful man she’d once fought against. Jareth - now he waited for her in that castle she had so much trouble finding before. Now she was just as eager to get there, but there was job in her heart as she ran to get there, finding him on the steps with a smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around her, called her his queen.

It was starting to feel real.

And the owl at her window sill was starting to seem oddly familiar,

Grey had a type - skinny emo boys who wore more make-up that she did and were easy to dominate Iconsenually, obviously. She’d never had a thing for authority figures or older men, she wasn’t exactly close to her dad, but she definitely didn’t have daddy issues thank you very much. It came as pretty big surprise to her then, when she realised she was starting to develop a thing for Malcolm Tucker - not her boss exactly, more the boss of the entire fucking government from what she could see - he was twice her age, and a million miles away for the submissive pretty boys she was usually attracted to.

It took her a while to work out what it was and then she realised while she sat at her desjj listening as he bollocked Ollie for something she’d missed the details of, not that they mattered - what mattered was the incredibly creative, perverse and illustrative way he swore at him. It wasn’t difficult to imagine that creativity being twisted to more fun activities, and now it was rare that she went to bed without imagining that Scottish accent hissing curses and suggestions in her ear. It was just kind of a shame she was too junior to ever warrant a bollocking of her own.

They’d gone out in London post-gig, somewhere they knew no one would give a shit who they were so they get drunk and dance and snog like any normal couple, not that they didn’t do that a lot anyway, it was just that a lot of the time people liked to interrupt them for selfies or autographs. At The Underworld they could really relax, which meant getting that bit too drunk and clinging to each other in a dark booth in between songs,

Charlotte was in his lap now, not caring who saw them, not even thinking about it, because what it matter? His hand was under her skirt, too high on her thigh, fingers slipping between the holes of her fishnet while they made out. She could feel him hard underneath her, as his hand tangled in her hair, holding her close.

The words had been in her head for weeks, constant and nagging like a headache, waiting on her tongue to be spewed out the second she stopped concentrating on holding them back.

“Fuckin’ love ya,” he mumbled against her lips, beating her to the punch.

She grinned, pulling back to get a proper look at him, so pretty it made her heart hurt. “Fucking love you too, you wanna take me home so I can show you how much?”

Dom’s grin was devilish as he looked up at her. “Why go that far? Ain’t like anyone’d notice.”
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