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amethystarachnid · 2 months ago

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A COWBOY'S LOVE - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, a lot of angst and some fluff and a tiny bit of spicy

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Read part 2 here!

ᯓ★ Word count: 8k

ᯓ★ Summary: Y/N works in her family saloon, that's where she met Tony Stark, the cowboy with a terrible reputation. She knows she shouldn't be falling in love with him, her parents would never approve, but she does. One day her parents tell her that they found her an husband: Mr. Davis, a rich old man that could be her grandpa. Will Y/N choose her duty as a good daughter over her love for Tony? Or will she put on a fight to stay with the man she loves?

ᯓ★ TW(s): arranged marriage (not with Tony) , reader gives Tony her virginity so it'll be a little spicy, the arranged marriage is with a much older man

ᯓ★ AU: Cowboy, so it's set in the wild west so like 1800s

ᯓ★ Request: Pleaaaaaase, Cowboy AU for Tony? 🤩 (female reader) (@heygoodgirly )

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The heat outside clings to the dusty streets of the small frontier town, but inside your family’s saloon, the air is thick with laughter, conversation, and the smell of whiskey. You stand behind the bar, wiping down glasses with a practiced hand, keeping an eye on the usual crowd. Cowboys, drifters, gamblers—your usual clientele. You’ve seen it all, the rowdy fights, the broken hearts, the deals sealed with a clink of glasses and a whispered promise.

But then he walks in.

Tony Stark.

A cowboy with swagger and a reputation that stretches further than the dusty roads that lead to this small town. You can hear the spurs of his boots jingle with every confident step. He tips his hat back, revealing tousled dark hair and a smirk that seems permanently etched into his face. His eyes are sharp, calculating, like he knows exactly what everyone is thinking the moment he steps in. You’ve heard whispers of his name before—how could you not? He's known for inventing strange contraptions, ones that seem to belong in the future, not out here in the wild.

But it's not just the gadgets. It’s his charm that makes heads turn. And you’re no exception, though you’d never admit it.

He saunters over to the bar, leaning against the counter like he owns the place, his dark leather duster sweeping the floor behind him.

“Well, if it ain’t my favorite saloon,” he drawls, eyes locked on you with that teasing glint that always makes your pulse quicken. “And my favorite bartender.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “You say that to every woman who serves you a drink.”

Tony chuckles, low and warm. “Can’t help it if I’ve got a type.”

You pour him a shot of whiskey, sliding it across the bar, your fingers brushing his for a fleeting moment. The roughness of his calloused hand sends a shiver up your spine. He catches it, of course, because nothing gets by Tony Stark.

“Busy night?” he asks, taking the shot in one smooth motion, setting the glass down with a satisfying clink.

“As busy as it ever is in this little dustbowl.” You lean against the counter, wiping your hands on your apron. “You planning to cause any trouble tonight?”

He grins, all teeth and mischief. “Depends on what kind of trouble you’re talkin’ about, darlin’.”

You shake your head, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. You’ve seen men try to get under your skin before, but Tony? He’s different. Too quick-witted for his own good. Too damn charming.

“Well, as long as it doesn’t involve breaking any more chairs,” you warn, pointing a finger at him. “I’m not fixing another one ‘cause of you.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” he protests, though there’s amusement in his eyes. “The fight started before I even finished my drink. Besides, I was just defending your honor.”

You laugh at that. “Defending my honor? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Tony leans in a little closer, his voice dropping low, so only you can hear. “What can I say? A woman like you deserves a knight in shining... well, in my case, dusty armor.”

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, but you keep your expression neutral. He’s always playing this game, flirting and teasing, but you’ve never let it go beyond that. At least, not yet.

“You ever get tired of trying to charm your way into trouble?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Tony chuckles, his fingers drumming lightly on the bar. “Trouble just finds me, sweetheart. I don’t have to go lookin’ for it.” He leans back, glancing over his shoulder as a group of men at one of the tables starts to get a little too loud. His posture shifts slightly, his eyes narrowing.

You follow his gaze and recognize the men—gamblers who’ve had a little too much to drink. You’re about to go over and calm things down when Tony stands, straightening up with a lazy kind of grace.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, tipping his hat. “I’ll handle it.”

Before you can protest, he’s already crossed the room. Tony Stark might be many things—cocky, reckless, far too handsome for his own good—but he’s also got a way of diffusing a situation without ever pulling his gun. You watch as he approaches the group, his voice smooth and low, disarming the tension with a few quick words. Within moments, the gamblers are laughing again, the fight forgotten.

He returns to the bar, flashing you a grin as if to say I told you so.

“See?” he says, settling back into his seat. “No chairs broken.”

You can’t help but smile, shaking your head. “You’re something else, Tony Stark.”

He leans in closer, his voice dropping again, that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes but don’t move away. There’s something magnetic about him, something that makes it hard to keep your distance. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing worth his time in this dusty, chaotic world.

“Tell me something,” he says after a moment, his tone softer, more serious. “Why are you still here? You could be anywhere. You don’t strike me as someone who’d settle for a small-town life.”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. It’s not like Tony to ask anything so personal.

“This is my family’s place,” you say slowly, glancing around the saloon. “I grew up here. It’s... home.”

Tony nods, but there’s something in his eyes, something that tells you he’s not entirely convinced. “And you’re happy here? Dealing with rowdy cowboys, cleaning up after drunken fights?”

You shrug. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s mine.”

He watches you for a long moment, his gaze intense in a way that makes your heart beat just a little faster. “You deserve more than this, you know.”

There’s something in his voice, something raw and real that you’re not used to hearing from him. And for a moment, just a moment, you let yourself wonder what it would be like—to leave with him. To walk away from this town and its dusty streets.

But then the door to the saloon swings open, and the moment is broken. Another customer, another distraction. You sigh and step back, putting a little distance between you and Tony.

Tony nods, but you can tell he’s not done with this conversation. Not yet. “I’ll be around,” he says, standing up and adjusting his hat. “Don’t go disappearing on me now, darlin’.”

As he walks away, you watch him go, feeling that familiar tug in your chest. Tony Stark might be trouble, but sometimes, trouble is exactly what you need.

And maybe you’ll let yourself fall into it.

The days pass like the slow turn of a wagon wheel, each one blending into the next as you and Tony settle into your usual rhythm. He shows up at the saloon nearly every evening, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, ready with some new quip or story to share. You pretend to be annoyed, rolling your eyes and giving as good as you get, but deep down, you’re starting to look forward to his visits more than you should.

It’s dangerous, letting yourself feel this way. You know that.

Tony Stark isn’t the kind of man who sticks around. He’s restless, always talking about the next adventure, the next town, the next invention. And you? You’re the one who stays. You’ve never known anything else.

Still, when he leans against the bar, hat tipped back, teasing smile in place, it’s hard not to feel a little flutter in your chest. You’ve always been careful with men like him, but with Tony, the line between banter and something more has been getting thinner with each passing night.

Tonight, the saloon is quieter than usual. A few regulars play poker at the corner table, and a group of ranch hands talk in low voices at the other end of the bar. The air outside hums with the approaching dusk, the warm glow of lanterns flickering through the saloon's windows.

Tony strolls in, dusting off his hat as if he’s been out riding all day. He gives you that familiar look—the one that makes it hard to keep a straight face.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you missed me, darlin’,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement.

You snort, pouring him his usual drink. “Miss you? I get enough of you bothering me every night.”

Tony winks, sliding onto the barstool closest to you. “Admit it. Your nights would be pretty dull without me around.”

You lean on the counter, giving him a mock serious look. “I think I’d survive.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Sure, sure. But let’s be honest, you’d miss my charming wit. And this face.”

“You mean the face that gets you into trouble at least twice a week?” you tease, crossing your arms.

Tony tilts his head, flashing you that grin that always seems to disarm you. “Trouble follows me ‘cause life’s too damn boring without it.”

You shake your head, but before you can fire back another retort, the door to the saloon swings open with a loud creak.You glance over, your breath catching in your throat when you see your parents walk in.

Your mother has that tight-lipped expression she wears when something serious is on her mind, and your father’s gaze is fixed on you, the weight of it making your stomach twist. They rarely come into the saloon during working hours—it’s more your domain than theirs. So their presence now? That can only mean one thing.

��Y/N,” your father says, nodding toward the back room. “We need to talk.”

Tony’s gaze flicks between you and your parents, his brow furrowing slightly. “Everything alright?”

You force a smile, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your hands suddenly feel clammy. “Yeah, fine. Just… family stuff. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for Tony’s response, you follow your parents to the back of the saloon, your heart hammering in your chest. You already know what this is about. They’ve been dropping hints for weeks now, and the dread that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind is finally coming to fruition.

Inside the small room, your mother gives you a soft smile, one that’s supposed to be comforting but only makes you feel trapped.

“Y/N,” your father begins, his tone gentle but firm. “We’ve made arrangements. You’re going to marry Mr. Davis.”

The name hangs in the air like a noose. Mr. Davis—a wealthy rancher, old enough to be your grandfather. He’s been visiting your family more often lately, always watching you with that strange, calculating look. You know he’s well-respected, that the marriage will secure your family’s future, but every part of you wants to scream in protest.

Instead, you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I understand.”

Your mother places a hand on your shoulder, her smile widening in approval. “You’ve always been such a good daughter. This is for the best, Y/N. Mr. Davis can provide for you in ways we never could.”

You nod again, the weight of their expectations heavy on your chest. You don’t argue. You don’t cry. You just… accept it. Because that’s what a good daughter does.

When the conversation is over, you return to the bar, your legs feeling like lead. Tony’s still there, watching you with that curious, concerned expression.

“What was that about?” he asks, his voice low, though there’s a hint of playfulness in it, like he’s expecting you to brush it off with a joke like you always do.

You want to. You want to smile and tell him everything’s fine. But the words won’t come.

Instead, you grab a bottle of whiskey and pour yourself a drink, downing it in one go. Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing that something’s wrong.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks again, softer this time.

You force a smile, but it feels hollow. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… family business.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he leans on the bar, his fingers tapping idly against his glass. The silence between you is heavier than usual, the easy banter replaced by something more tense, more uncertain.

You can’t bring yourself to tell him. Not yet. Not when you don’t even know how to make sense of it yourself.

Instead, you go through the motions—serving drinks, wiping down the bar, laughing at his jokes even when your heart isn’t in it. But every time his eyes linger on you, a part of you aches. Because you know, deep down, that whatever this thing is between you and Tony, it can’t last.

You’re going to marry Mr. Davis. You’re going to be someone else’s wife. And Tony… Tony is going to move on, just like he always does.

But for tonight, you pretend. You pretend that everything’s fine, that nothing’s changed, even though you can feel the future closing in on you like a noose.

Tony’s laughter echoes in the saloon, but it’s a bittersweet sound now. Because no matter how much you wish it were different, some things can’t be undone.

The days blur together, each one bringing you closer to the wedding. Closer to the life you never asked for, to a future that feels more like a cage with every passing minute. Mr. Davis has been in and out of the saloon, his presence looming like a shadow. Every time he tips his hat to you, you smile and nod like the good daughter your parents expect you to be.

But inside, the walls are closing in.

Tony, of course, has no idea. You’ve managed to keep the truth from him, though it’s getting harder with each passing day. His visits to the saloon have become the only part of your life that feels normal anymore, the only time you can pretend that things haven’t changed. You can still joke, laugh, and trade barbs like nothing is wrong.

But you can’t escape the dread that knots your stomach every time he walks in.

Tonight, the saloon is almost empty. The regulars have trickled out early, leaving just you and Tony in the dimly lit room. The lanterns flicker, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. It’s quiet, save for the soft creak of a chair and the occasional clink of glasses as you absentmindedly clean up behind the bar.

Tony leans back in his usual spot, hat tipped low, his boots resting on the rung of the stool. He’s been talking for the past hour, spinning some wild tale about a cattle drive gone wrong, but you’ve barely been listening. Your thoughts are too tangled, your heart too heavy.

“You’re awful quiet tonight,” Tony remarks, his voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just tired, I guess.”

Tony watches you, his expression shifting from playful to serious in a heartbeat. He’s always been too perceptive for his own good, and tonight is no exception. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the bar, his dark eyes searching yours.

“You’ve been ‘tired’ for a while now, sweetheart. Somethin’ tells me there’s more to it than that.”

You swallow hard, avoiding his gaze as you busy yourself with cleaning an already spotless glass. “It’s nothing. Just… family stuff.”

He doesn’t buy it, not for a second. He reaches out, gently pulling the glass from your hand and setting it down on the bar. His fingers brush against yours for just a moment, but it’s enough to send a jolt of warmth through you. You bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens.

“Talk to me, Y/N,” he says, his voice low, earnest. “What’s goin’ on?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to say them. How do you tell Tony Stark—the one man who’s made you feel alive in this dusty town—that you’re about to marry someone else? Someone old, someone who doesn’t know you, doesn’t see you the way Tony does?

You look away, blinking back the burn of tears in your eyes. “I’m getting married, Tony,” you finally whisper, the words coming out so softly you’re not sure he even hears them.

But he does.

The silence that follows is deafening. Tony stiffens, his hand still resting on the bar, fingers curling slightly as if he’s trying to hold on to something. When he speaks again, his voice is tight, controlled.

“Married?” he repeats, like the word is foreign to him.

You nod, not trusting yourself to say anything more.

“To who?” he asks, though there’s a strange edge to his voice now. “Because it sure as hell ain’t anyone I’ve seen around here.”

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Mr. Davis.”

Tony’s expression shifts from confusion to disbelief, then something darker. He pushes back from the bar, standing up so abruptly his chair scrapes loudly against the floor.

“Mr. Davis?” He says the name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “That old bastard?”

You wince at the venom in his voice, but you can’t blame him. You feel the same way.

“It’s arranged,” you say quickly, trying to explain. “My parents—he’s… it’s for the family. I didn’t really have a choice.”

Tony laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You didn’t have a choice? Y/N, you always have a choice.”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you again. “Not this time. It’s two weeks away.”

Two weeks. Just saying it out loud feels like a death sentence.

Tony stares at you for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes flashing with something you can’t quite place. Anger, frustration… maybe even hurt. But then, without warning, he steps closer, his voice lowering to a rough whisper.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he says, his eyes burning into yours. “Tell me this isn’t what you want.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, his proximity making it hard to breathe. You open your mouth, but no words come out. Because it isn’t what you want. It’s the last thing you want. But saying that? Admitting it out loud?

You’re not sure you can.

Tony’s hand moves, hesitating for a moment before his fingers brush against your cheek, gently, as if he’s afraid you’ll break if he touches you any harder. His thumb grazes your skin, and you shiver under his touch.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost pleading now. “You don’t have to do this.”

Your breath hitches as his words hang in the air between you. And then, before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s been building for far too long.

For a moment, the world disappears. The saloon, the town, the marriage, all of it fades away as Tony’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. His lips are warm and firm, tasting of whiskey and something distinctly him. The kiss is slow, sweet at first, but it quickly deepens, becoming something more urgent, more desperate, like he’s trying to pour all the unspoken words into it.

You melt into him, your hands sliding up to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. It’s everything you’ve wanted for so long—too long.

But then, reality crashes down on you.

You pull away, breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Tony’s eyes search yours, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration as he reaches for you again.

But you step back, shaking your head. “Tony… we can’t.”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean, we can’t? That kiss sure as hell didn’t feel like we can’t.”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill. “I’m getting married in two weeks.”

Tony’s eyes narrow, his frustration turning to something sharper. “To a man you don’t love,” he growls. “Don’t tell me that’s what you want.”

You close your eyes, fighting the ache in your chest. “It’s what I have to do.”

He stares at you, the tension thick between you both, the silence heavy with everything unsaid. Finally, he lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re really gonna marry that old man and throw this away?” he asks, his voice low, rough with emotion.

Tears prick at your eyes, and you look away, unable to face the pain in his gaze. “It’s not that simple, Tony.”

He exhales sharply, turning away, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, neither of you speak, the air thick with tension. You can still feel the heat of his kiss on your lips, still feel the weight of his hands on your skin. But it doesn’t change anything. Not really.

“I should go,” Tony finally says, his voice tight.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You watch him turn toward the door, the ache in your chest growing with every step he takes away from you.

But as he reaches the threshold, he pauses, glancing over his shoulder one last time.

“You’re making a mistake, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice breaking ever so slightly.

And then, he’s gone, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving you standing alone in the empty saloon with nothing but the weight of your choice pressing down on you.

The wedding day looms closer, suffocating you with every tick of the clock. Mr. Davis has already started making plans—what he expects of you, how you’ll live together on his ranch. Your parents are thrilled, talking about your future like it’s some grand thing, a reward for all their hard work. But to you, it feels like chains being forged, one link at a time.

And then there’s Tony.

You’ve avoided him since that kiss, the memory of his lips on yours haunting you. His words echo in your head, over and over again—You’re making a mistake, Y/N. It should be easy to forget, to bury your feelings like you’ve been taught to do your whole life. But when you lie in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, all you can think about is Tony. The way he looks at you like you’re something more than just a dutiful daughter. The way he touches you like you’re precious, like you matter.

It doesn’t help that every day you grow more certain of one terrifying truth: you love him. You’ve fallen in love with Tony Stark, the wild, stubborn cowboy who showed you a world beyond the one your parents have trapped you in. And now, one week away from being shackled to a man you barely know, you feel like you’re suffocating.

One evening, after the saloon has closed and the town has fallen into its usual sleepy quiet, you find yourself standing on the edge of a decision. The weight of your future is pressing down on you, and you know you can’t keep living in this limbo.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab your shawl and slip out into the night, your feet carrying you down the familiar dirt road toward Tony’s ranch. The cool evening air bites at your skin, but you hardly notice. Your heart hammers in your chest, your mind racing as you rehearse what you’re going to say—if you can even find the words once you see him.

The Stark ranch comes into view, the faint glow of light spilling from the windows of his cabin. His horse is tied up nearby, the quiet snuffle of the animal the only sound besides the soft rustle of the wind. You hesitate for a moment, your stomach twisting with nerves, but then you force yourself to take a deep breath and walk up to the door.

Before you can knock, the door creaks open, and there he is—Tony, standing in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he sees you.

“Y/N?” he asks, stepping outside. “What are you doin’ here? It’s late.”

His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, like he knows something’s wrong. He always knows.

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling suddenly vulnerable under his gaze. “I had to see you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tony’s brow furrows, and he glances behind you, as if expecting someone else to be there. When he sees that you’re alone, he steps closer, his hands resting gently on your arms. “What’s goin’ on? You’re shakin’.”

You hadn’t even realized it until now, but he’s right. Your whole body is trembling, the weight of your emotions finally crashing down on you. You look up at him, your eyes searching his, and for the first time, you let the truth slip past your lips.

“I love you, Tony.”

The words come out in a rush, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s stopped spinning. Tony’s eyes widen in shock, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you keep going, unable to hold it all in any longer.

“I love you,” you repeat, your voice breaking. “I’ve loved you for a long time, but I—I’m still going to marry Mr. Davis. I have to. My parents—they won’t understand. They’ll never let me go against their plans, and I’m—" You choke on the words, struggling to hold back the tears. "I’m scared. I don’t know how to stand up to them.”

Tony’s face softens, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have started to fall. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this. I told you—you have a choice.”

You shake your head, biting your lip. “It’s not that simple. I can’t just… leave everything behind. But there’s one thing I can choose.”

You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you say the words you never thought you’d be brave enough to speak. “I don’t want him to be my first. I don’t want an old man to take that from me, Tony. I want it to be you.”

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. Tony stares at you, his expression unreadable, his breath coming in slow, steady exhales. Then, with a low sigh, he steps back, shaking his head slightly.

“Y/N…” His voice is quiet, conflicted. “You don’t have to do this. Not for me.”

You take a shaky breath, stepping closer, closing the space between you. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for me.” Your voice trembles, but your resolve is firm. “I love you, Tony. And I want my first time to be with someone I love. Someone who cares about me.”

For a long moment, Tony just looks at you, his gaze searching yours. Then, something in his expression softens, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you gently against him. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, his forehead resting against yours.

You nod, your heart racing. “I’m sure.”

Tony’s lips meet yours in a kiss that’s soft, tender, and full of the unspoken words that have been hanging between you for too long. He’s gentle, his hands sliding up to cup your face, cradling you like you’re something fragile, something precious. You melt into him, your fingers tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing the warmth of him against you.

Without breaking the kiss, Tony pulls you inside the cabin, the door closing softly behind you. The fire in the hearth casts a warm glow over the room, the shadows dancing across the walls as he leads you to the bed, his movements slow, careful, like he’s giving you every chance to change your mind.

But you don’t.

When you reach the bed, he pauses, his hands resting on your hips as he looks at you, his gaze full of something deeper than just desire—something that makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

“You’re sure?” he asks again, his voice rough, filled with emotion.

You nod, smiling softly as you reach up to cup his cheek. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With that, Tony kisses you again, this time deeper, more urgent, like he’s been holding back for too long. His hands move slowly, carefully untying the strings of your dress, letting it slip off your shoulders and pool at your feet. You shiver, not from the cold but from the intensity of his gaze as he looks at you, his breath catching in his throat.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before pulling you close again.

You pull at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against yours, and he helps you, shrugging out of it before lifting you gently onto the bed. His touch is soft, reverent, as he leans over you, pressing kisses to your neck, your collarbone, trailing lower with each one. Every kiss sends a thrill through you, your heart racing as you cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

When he finally joins you on the bed, his body pressing against yours, you feel a sense of peace wash over you—a feeling that this is right, that this moment belongs to you, not to Mr. Davis or your parents or anyone else.

It’s slow, tender, every movement filled with care and love. Tony takes his time, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure this is exactly what you want. And when the moment finally comes, when you join together in a way that’s both beautiful and overwhelming, it’s everything you’d hoped it would be.

You hold onto him, your breath hitching as your bodies move together, and in that moment, all the worries and fears melt away. There’s only him—only Tony, his soft murmurs of affection, his gentle touch, his love.

When it’s over, you lie together in the quiet of the cabin, your head resting on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, holding you close. The fire crackles softly in the background, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel… free. Like you’ve finally chosen something for yourself, something real.

Tony presses a soft kiss to your hair, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You smile against his chest, your heart swelling with a mix of happiness and sadness. “I love you too, Tony.”

But as you lie there in the warmth of his embrace, the reality of your situation begins to creep back in. The wedding is still one week away, and while tonight has been perfect, you know that come morning, the weight of your obligations will return.

For now, though, you hold onto him, letting yourself enjoy the moment, the feeling of being with the man you love.

Because no matter what happens next, this night is yours.

The first light of dawn filters through the thin curtains of Tony’s cabin, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink. You lie curled against him, your head resting on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek. His arm is wrapped around you, holding you close, as though he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

You wish you could stay like this forever—wrapped in his warmth, cocooned in the safety of his arms. But reality looms like a shadow, reminding you of what’s coming. The wedding. The promise to your parents. The life that’s been planned for you since before you even knew how to dream of something different.

Tony stirs beside you, shifting slightly as he wakes. His hand strokes your back gently, his fingers tracing soft circles against your skin. You close your eyes, savoring the feeling for just a moment longer, knowing it might be the last time you get to feel this way.

“You don’t have to do it, you know,” Tony’s voice breaks the quiet, low and rough from sleep. His words hang in the air, a soft plea wrapped in the warmth of the morning light. “It’s not too late, Y/N.”

You sigh, the ache in your chest growing with each passing second. You knew this conversation was coming. You could feel it simmering between you last night, even as you lay tangled together in the heat of your love.

“I wish it were that simple,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you press your face closer to him. “But it’s not. The wedding is next Saturday, Tony. In the church. Everyone in town is expecting it. My parents… they’re counting on me.”

Tony shifts, pulling back slightly so he can look down at you, his brow furrowed with frustration and something deeper—something like hurt. His thumb brushes across your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“You don’t have to live for them, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice raw with emotion. “You don’t owe them your whole damn life. Not if it means giving up what you want—giving up us.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you look into his eyes, seeing the pain there, the desperation. You want to tell him he’s right. That you’ll run away with him, leave this town, this life behind. But the weight of your family’s expectations presses down on you like a stone, heavy and unyielding.

“It’s too late, Tony,” you whisper, your heart breaking with every word. “I can’t just walk away from everything I’ve been raised to believe in. My parents… they’ve worked so hard for this. For me. I have to marry Mr. Davis.”

Tony’s jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with frustration, but he doesn’t argue. He just holds you tighter, his breath warm against your skin as the silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken words.

Eventually, you both rise, the morning light spilling across the room as you dress in the quiet. There’s a heaviness in the air now, a finality that neither of you want to acknowledge but can’t escape. Tony watches you, his gaze lingering on you like he’s trying to memorize every detail, every moment, as though this is the last time he’ll see you.

And maybe it is.

When you’re dressed, you stand by the door, your hand resting on the doorknob as you turn to look at him one last time. He’s standing in the middle of the room, his shirt half-buttoned, his hair tousled, his eyes dark and unreadable as he watches you.

“You’re really going to marry him?” Tony’s voice is quiet, almost broken.

You nod, your throat tightening with emotion. “I have to.”

Tony exhales sharply, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re gonna throw away everything we could’ve had?”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them back, forcing yourself to stay strong. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I wish things could be different.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you, the pain in his eyes so raw it cuts through you like a knife.

You turn the doorknob and step outside into the early morning light, the cool air hitting your skin as you walk away from the cabin, away from the man you love. You don’t look back, because you know if you do, you won’t be able to leave.

And leaving is the only thing you can do.

When you return home, the sun has fully risen, casting the town in its usual bustle. You slip through the back door of your house, hoping to avoid your parents. But the moment you step inside, you’re greeted by the sound of their voices—raised, panicked.

“There you are!” your mother’s voice startles you as she rushes into the room, her face a mixture of worry and something else, something harder. “Where have you been all night?”

Your father stands behind her, his arms crossed, his expression grim. They both look at you, their eyes searching, waiting for an explanation.

“I—” you stammer, not knowing what to say. You can’t tell them the truth. You can’t tell them about Tony, about last night.

But then you realize something. The way your mother’s eyes flicker down to your clothes, her lips pressing into a thin line. The way your father’s brow furrows in disapproval. They’re not worried about where you’ve been.

They’re worried about what you’ve done.

“You were out all night,” your father says, his voice cold, accusatory. “Do you know what people will say? What Mr. Davis will think if he finds out?”

Your heart sinks, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut. They don’t care where you were. They don’t care about you. They care about the deal. About the marriage.

About the money.

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, your voice shaking. “I just… needed some air.”

Your mother steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “Air? All night?” She grabs your wrist, her grip tight, almost painful. “Don’t lie to us, Y/N. We raised you better than that.”

You pull your arm free, feeling a swell of anger rising in your chest. “You raised me to do what you want. To be obedient. To be… sold off to the highest bidder.”

The words spill out before you can stop them, and the look on your parents’ faces is enough to break your heart all over again.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” your father snaps, his face reddening. “You’re marrying Mr. Davis because it’s what’s best for this family. It’s a good match. He’s a respectable man with money. You’ll live comfortably.”

Comfortably. The word makes you sick.

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “You don’t care about me at all, do you? You don’t care that I’m miserable, that I don’t love him. You just want the money. You just want to be rid of me.”

Your mother’s face hardens, and she steps back, her arms folding across her chest. “You’re a woman, Y/N. You don’t get to choose. You do what’s best for the family.”

The weight of her words crashes down on you, and for the first time, you see it all clearly. To them, you’re not a daughter. You’re a bargaining chip. Something to be exchanged for status, for comfort, for wealth.

Tears spill down your cheeks, and you don’t bother wiping them away. “I’m nothing to you,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I’ve given up everything for you, for this family. And you don’t even see me.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn and flee up the stairs, slamming the door to your room behind you. You collapse onto the bed, sobbing into the pillow, the weight of your heartbreak pressing down on you with every breath.

You sacrificed your love. You gave up Tony—the only man who has ever truly seen you—for them. For their approval, their pride.

And they don’t even care.

As the tears flow, you clutch the pillow tighter, your body shaking with sobs, feeling like you’ve lost everything.

Because in a way, you have.

The bells of the small town church ring out, echoing through the streets as the townsfolk gather inside. It’s a bright, beautiful day—perfect for a wedding. But as you stand in the back room, staring at your reflection in the mirror, you feel anything but beautiful.

Your wedding dress, a gift from your mother, feels heavy on your body, suffocating you in its lace and satin. The delicate veil drapes over your face, hiding the tears that have been falling for what feels like hours now. Your heart is in shambles, your mind replaying every moment from that night at Tony’s ranch—his hands, his voice, his warmth. You’d given yourself to him, knowing you would never belong to him in the end. And now, here you are, about to marry a man you can hardly bear to look at.

Mr. Davis is already at the altar, waiting for you with that smug, self-satisfied grin. The old man’s wealth, his power, and the promise of a “secure future” are the only reasons this marriage is happening. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t even know you. You’re just another possession to him, another thing he can buy. Your stomach churns at the thought, bile rising in your throat.

“Y/N,” your mother’s voice cuts through your thoughts, sharp and commanding. “Stop fidgeting. You look perfect. Everyone is waiting.”

You nod mechanically, trying to hold back the tears as you glance at your father. He stands by the door, ready to walk you down the aisle, his expression one of pride. Pride for what? Selling his daughter to the highest bidder? The thought makes your heart ache, but you push it aside. You’ve done everything they’ve ever asked of you. Now, you’ll give them this too.

With a deep breath, you plaster a smile onto your face, the kind of smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. The kind of smile that hides the storm inside you.

Your father offers you his arm, and together, you step out of the back room and into the church, where everyone turns to watch you walk down the aisle. You keep the smile on your face, even as your eyes sting with unshed tears. You can’t look at Mr. Davis. You focus on the path ahead, on the steps that lead to a future you don’t want.

Each step feels heavier than the last, like you’re marching toward your own execution. The faces of the townsfolk blur together as you pass them, whispering among themselves, commenting on how beautiful you look, how lucky Mr. Davis is.

Lucky. The word burns in your throat. He’s the lucky one, while you’re the one being sacrificed.

As you reach the altar, Mr. Davis takes your hand, his touch cold and unfeeling. His smile is smug, as though he knows he’s won. You force yourself to smile back, even though your entire body screams to run.

The priest begins speaking, his voice a distant murmur in your ears as you stand there, your hand trembling in Mr. Davis’s grasp. You can barely hear what he’s saying, the weight of your decision pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“And if anyone has any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony,” the priest intones, “speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing, but the church is silent. No one will say anything. No one ever does.

Until suddenly, the heavy church doors burst open.

The room gasps collectively, heads turning in unison, and you whip your head around, your breath catching in your throat.

Tony.

He’s standing in the doorway, out of breath, his chest heaving as though he’s just run the whole way here. His clothes are rumpled, dust clinging to his boots and jacket, but his eyes—those familiar, dark, intense eyes—are locked on you. There’s a fire in them, the same fire you’ve seen every time he’s looked at you, and in that moment, you can’t breathe.

“I oppose,” Tony’s voice rings out, cutting through the stunned silence of the church.

A murmur ripples through the crowd. You hear the shocked whispers, the gasps of disbelief. Everyone in town knows Tony Stark—the wild, reckless cowboy with a bad reputation, the man who never settled down, who was always chasing trouble. He’s the last person anyone would expect to stand up in a church and object to a wedding.

But there he is.

And he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.

“I want to marry her,” Tony says, his voice strong, determined. “I love her. And I think she deserves a damn sight better than this.”

Your heart skips a beat, the smile you’ve been forcing on your face faltering, replaced by something real—something you can’t hold back. A spark of hope flickers inside you, one you thought had been extinguished.

Mr. Davis lets out a low, indignant growl beside you. “This is absurd! You have no right—”

“I have every right,” Tony interrupts, stepping forward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because she deserves a choice. And I’m askin’ her to give me a chance.”

The room is a storm of murmurs, people shaking their heads, some in shock, some in disapproval. Your parents are frozen, your mother’s face pale with rage, your father’s lips pressed into a tight line.

But none of that matters.

Not when Tony’s standing there, looking at you with hope in his eyes, his heart on his sleeve.

“Y/N,” Tony calls softly, his voice cutting through the chaos. “You don’t have to go through with this. Not for them. Not for anyone. Come with me.”

Your hands tremble, your heart pounding in your chest as the reality of the moment crashes down on you. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for your decision. You look over at Mr. Davis, his face red with fury, his hand tightening on your wrist.

You pull away from him, shaking your head slowly, your eyes stinging with fresh tears. You turn toward your parents, who are glaring at you with a mixture of shock and anger, but for the first time in your life, their opinions don’t matter. They don’t get to decide your future anymore.

Tony’s standing at the entrance, his hand outstretched, waiting for you.

Your lips curve into a real, genuine smile, the weight lifting off your chest as you step forward, toward him.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, but your voice is steady, filled with a new kind of strength. “I can’t do this.”

Before anyone can stop you, you lift your skirts and run down the aisle, your heart soaring with every step. The crowd gasps as you pass, but you don’t care. All you can see is Tony, waiting for you, his eyes shining with love and relief.

When you reach him, he pulls you into his arms, lifting you off the ground in a tight embrace, his laughter warm against your skin.

“I knew you’d come,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You laugh through your tears, clinging to him like a lifeline. “I love you, Tony.”

Without another word, the two of you turn and dash out of the church, leaving behind the stunned whispers, the shocked gasps, the world you were so desperate to escape. You run toward freedom, toward the future you’ve chosen, with Tony by your side.

As you burst through the church doors and into the sunlight, the weight that’s been crushing you for so long finally lifts, and for the first time in your life, you feel truly free.

Tony helps you up onto his horse, and you take one last glance at the church behind you, at the life you’ve left behind. Your parents stand in the doorway, their faces a mixture of disbelief and fury, but you turn away from them, focusing on what lies ahead.

With a grin, Tony swings up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he nudges the horse into motion. Together, you ride off into the horizon, the wind whipping through your hair, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you leave everything else behind.

You’ve made your choice. You’ve chosen love. And as you look over your shoulder at Tony, his smile wide and bright, you know you’ve chosen right.

I was (I am) crying while writing this I swear, maybe a part 2 where Tony and y/n are happily together?

If I made you cry don't forget to leave a like, a reblog and even a follow if you want to read more! <3

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moonkake-143 · 6 months ago

Text

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 | Into the Labyrinth

Goblin King!Eddie X AFAB/Fem!Henderson Reader

Edited By the lovey: Jen

Contents: Slow Burn, One sided pining from Eddie turned mutual, love at first sight, fluff, angst, no use of y/n

Summery: Your time starts now and your first challenge awaits.

Chapter 2/? {wc: 5.7k}

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

The walk felt long and arduous, especially with the sun beating down on you as hard as it did. How odd it was that you were just under the cover of darkness back home— it had been cold and stormy, but here the sun was high up in the sky, with clouds only partly covering the land. Below you, the grassy hill felt as if it went on forever, and for a beat, you thought it did— a sick trick already at the start, but one thing remained a constant in your mind.

Find Dustin and get out of there.

You thought those words over and over like a mantra, or hell, even a prayer, pushing yourself forward despite the burning sun. Despite the clock that timed you from the top of that damn hill. Despite the handsome, curly-haired man who brought you here in the first place.

Cursing him, you shook your head and continued your trek, finally reaching the bottom of the hill and landing on a dirt road. The surrounding fields were barren, and crops rotted in tipped-over barrels. The area was devoid of life, and as the smell of charcoal invaded your nostrils, you scrunched your nose in disgust, picking up the pace. With sunken thatch roofs, the houses were charred, and when you came closer, you noticed arrows stuck in the rotting wood. You noticed the claw marks that scarred the doors and the rust-colored stains that marred the sides of the cottages. There had been some sort of struggle; a carnage that had been long forgotten, but there were no bodies in sight— as if they had just up and vanished.

Just what happened here?

As you walked, the ash-stricken houses began to converge the closer you walked towards the forest, as if a village was waiting deep inside. A growing uneasiness followed you until you finally stopped in front of a signpost, realizing that the dirt road forked into two paths— one that went into the forest, and another that continued towards abandoned farmland. Both signs were illegible, written in a language that resembled the scribbles of a two year-old. But even if you could translate them, the wooden signs were so damaged, rotting and falling apart, that you struggled to decide which way to go.

Without warning, a gust of wind swept through you, and you shivered, rubbing your arms to combat the sudden chill. Now you really wished you had a jacket, rather than just a tank top. However, you noticed that the wind whisked a trail of leaves into the woods.

If that wasn't a sign, then you didn't know what was.

Taking a deep breath, you followed them down the path.

Time seemed to stand still as you walked through the damp forest, but then again, time felt a lot different here. The trees provided a much-needed cover from the burning sun, casting gloomy shadows. It seemed to be a logging camp, with a scattering of wooden cabins that looked in better shape then the ones outside, but were still unsettling to walk past. You found more arrows, with rusty axes embedded in the trunks of trees, but nature seemed to overtake them. Grass and daisies grew in the gaps between abandoned machinery, covering the pieces in moss. More houses seemed to go deeper into the forest, all seemingly abandoned and overgrown.

As you walked, the humidity caused your hair to frizz up and covered your entire body in an uncomfortable layer of sweat. You let out a huff and wiped the condensation from your brow, your legs aching.

How long had you been walking for? Was this all for nothing? Had you gone the wrong way? Was there no labyrinth at all? Questions swirled around your mind as your chest swelled, your breath shortening. The heat was not helping— it felt suffocating, as if the entire forest was a damp sauna. What was it with this sudden change in weather?

With a ragged breath, you finally stopped walking, and your vision blurred with tears. Anxiety gnawed at your very core, your body tensing and trembling as you buried your face in your hands, taking deep breaths. Slowly, you tried to steady yourself, your head aching and pulse pounding. As the pain in your chest subsided, you lowered your palms from your eyes, slowly opening them.

In front of you wasn't the dirt path, but a large gate— one that hadn’t been there before. It was tall and deeply ornate, with a stone arch and iron bars that were curled into what looked like bats. Moss and vines twisted along the cobblestone pillars on either side, but what caught your eye was the wide, seemingly endless wall that encompassed the labyrinth. You slowly walked up to it, grabbing onto the iron bars and pulling— but the gate was locked.

"Come on, I've come this far…” you sighed.

"Halt! Who goes there?”

Jumping in surprise, you spun and frantically looked for the source of the voice, bringing your arms up in a defensive position— albeit a rather weak one.

"Who’s there?!” you called out.

The disembodied voice seemed to chuckle at your attempt at intimidation.

"I should be asking you that! What brings a human to my neck of the woods?”

The voice sounded feminine and held a jolly lilt of humor, one that eased your stance slightly. Looking around, you kept your fists up, stepping forward. Maybe those karate classes from elementary school would kick in if something did happen.

Then as swift as the wind, someone from the top of the gate dropped behind you.

"Boo!”

Yelping, you tripped and landed on your bottom, stirring up dust that caused you to cough.

Curse your lack of instincts and balance. Those classes did nothing to prepare you.

When the dust settled, you found a pair of striking blue-green eyes staring you down. You let out a gasp, quickly scooting backwards in a feeble attempt to crabwalk away from her. She was sun-kissed, as if she spent her life outside, with freckles dotted across her nose— or was it dirt? You couldn't tell, but she was studying you like a specimen, her eyebrows married in concentration at the possibility of you being a threat. But then she relaxed and flashed a sharp-toothed smile, her teeth both blinding and scary.

"So it is you! The girl Eddie’s always on about!”

"Wh-What?”

"Oh, sorry for startling you— here, lemme help you up.”

She grabbed your forearm, hoisting you up as if you weighed nothing, and you winced as her sharp claws lightly grazed your skin. Her dirty-blonde hair was chopped just above her shoulders, her eyes crinkling under her wide grin. How could she smile even more?

"Who are you?”

"Oh right, I’m Robin! I watch over this gaudy-looking gate!”

Robin stepped back from you, and it was then that you fully took her in. She wore a similar outfit to Eddie's, dressed in a poet shirt and tight trousers, with gloves fit for an archer. Slung over her back was a longbow and a quiver of arrows, and a dagger was sheathed to her hip. Gold piercings adorned her ears, which were long and pointed— something you had only ever read about in fantasy novels.

"You’re an elf…?”

"Oh hells no! A goblin, actually! Never seen a goblin before? We're nothing like those posh pricks!"

"No, I've never seen a real goblin before..."

"And it's been a while since I've seen a human! They're quite rare around here.”

Shaking your head, you stared at her in awe. Goblins always were depicted as small, evil green things, but Robin— she looked human. It made you wonder what elves really looked like.

"I know, I am quite stunning, but I'm afraid I'm taken!"

You realized you were staring for longer than was socially acceptable, and your face turned bright red as you broke your stare.

"You're really the girl he's always talking about, huh? I can see why he likes you.” The relaxed tone disappeared from her voice, her previous expression returning as she studied you. The goblin woman then began to circle you like a vulture, sizing you up and scanning you from head to toe.

"What? Why are you doing that? Robin, right? Please, can you let me inside?”

"Woah, one question at a time. Start with the most important one.”

"Can you please let me inside?”

"I can, but that’s not the right question.”

"What? What do you mean not the right question?”

"You ask a lot of questions, huh?”

Robin finally stopped in front of you and stared, a smile slowly appearing on her face. She was quiet, letting you stew in your own mind.

What was she talking about? You said please, was that not enough?

You turned your back to her, opening your arms and lifting them to the sky.

"Open Sesame? Abracadabra?”

Robin burst into a fit of laughter, her own face turning red as she clutched her abdomen, her shoulders shaking. You dropped your arms in embarrassment, cheeks flushing as you wracked your brain for what could have been the answer— why wouldn't she open the gate?

Oh wait.

"...Will you please open the gate?”

"Now that’s more like it!”

Robin turned and pushed vines aside to reveal a wooden lever, pulling it down. The mechanisms began to churn, the cranking of the gears becoming louder as you walked closer. Anxiety quickly settled into a permanent place in your stomach.

"How bad is it?”

"The truth? Terrifying. Are you really going in there?” Robin watched you with curious, worried eyes.

"I have to…for my brother.”

"You mean the brother you wished away? How admirable. But here’s your official warning: a mere human like you may not make it out alive. The labyrinth is no game to take lightly— you might forget which way is which, fall into a pit of spikes, or encounter a monster thirsty for blood— you'll never know what you might find.”

Staring wide-eyed at the open gate, you turned to her.

"There are monsters in here? You're not messing with me?“

"Afraid not, but here— you might need this.”

Robin unclipped her dagger, quick to wrap the belt around your waist.

"Promise we’ll be friends if you make it out alive?”

"When I make it out…”

"That's the spirit! Now go get 'em! Don’t die!" Robin’s smile was blinding as she pushed you towards the entrance. "Good luck, and don’t take anything at face value!”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stared at the stone walls, which seemed to beckon you inside. Taking a breath, you crossed under the gate, which quickly fell shut behind you with a loud bang. You jumped, turning to see the goblin woman waving from the other side.

Letting out a surprised huff, you faced ahead once more.

"Alright, I gotta find Dustin," you thought. "I've only got thirteen hours— how am I even going to track that? Robin mentioned monsters...at least she gave me this…"

Pulling the dagger from its place on your belt, you examined it. It was a simple thing wrapped in leather, with a slightly curved blade. Embedded in the hilt was a red stone, possibly a ruby. You held it out and slashed at the air, imagining your target as someone with curly hair and brown doe eyes. Once satisfied with yourself, you sheathed it away and continued your journey.

You walked slowly, taking in your surroundings and keeping a watchful eye out for any traps. Brown roots covered the stone walls and spilled onto the path in thick chunks. You carefully maneuvered around them, but the passage seemed to go on forever, and you slowly went from a walk to a jog, and from a jog to a sprint, running down the path with no end in sight.

Your careless running finally caught up to you when you tripped over a thick, gnarled root, toppling over and tumbling to the ground. Knees digging into dirt, you huffed as you looked up, and from the corner of your eye, you saw it.

The labyrinth was moving.

By the looks of it, it changed ever-so slightly— nothing the careless eye could catch so quickly. The walls shifted in what looked to be a wave of magic, pulsating as if they were alive, and the root you had just tripped over slowly disappeared, rescinding into the stone crevices behind you. Was the labyrinth alive after all? Or was this Eddie’s doing?

You punched the ground in frustration as the pain in your knees became a dull ache. Groaning, you sat up against the wall, your face red not just from exhaustion, but the anger that bubbled to the surface.

"You can’t be serious!" you screamed at the bright blue sky, hoping someone— anyone— would listen. "What the actual fuck am I supposed to do? Hey, Eddie! Yeah, I have a feeling you can hear me, you prick! What the fuck!? You didn't say it fucking moves! Or that there were monsters in here!”

You were met with dead silence as you leaned your head against the stone wall, catching your breath and closing your eyes.

"Alright, this is fine, just breathe. This is like one of those DND campaigns. Yeah, okay, maybe none of this is even real. Did I finally lose it? What if Dustin is dead? Oh god, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself— what if I'm dead too?! What if mom finds me on the side of the road?!” Your ramblings carried through the silence of the labyrinth, hands trembling as you raked your fingers through your hair in anxious panic.

Tears threatened to escape your eyes, and you tried to will them away, but had to shove your palms against your eyes to force them to hide. You wouldn’t cry, not over this, not over hypothetical scenarios. Dustin was alive— he had to be. You remembered his bubbly laugh. You remembered how curious he always was, often getting into trouble. You remembered how he tucked his head of curls under your chin when you watched movies together. Then you thought about how scared he must be without you there, in the dark and surrounded by terrifying monsters who could eat him if they wanted to. You tucked your knees close to your chest, hiccups erupting from your body as the tears you tried so hard to fight back flowed from your eyes.

"Are you alright, dear?”

You jumped at the sudden voice. It was a gentle thing, feminine and holding a motherly lilt that pulled you out of your internal dread. You searched for the source of it, eyes teary.

"Would you like a spot of tea? I believe I have some leaves perfect for brewing.”

The source of the voice finally revealed itself to you, hanging from a vine on the wall. Rubbing the tear stains from your cheeks, you leaned towards the creature. A spotted mushroom sat on its head, and delicate, glistening fairy wings sprouted from its back. You shook your head at the question.

“What troubles you, my dear?”

The fairy was small but seemed wise with age, with pointed ears that stuck out from her dark brown curls. Her skin was golden, as if the sun blessed her, and she wore a dress made of leaves. Her voice was warm and inviting, but her golden eyes looked you over with sorrow and worry— a mother's gaze, no doubt.

"It’s this maze! It moves without warning! How am I supposed to get through it in thirteen hours?! Dustin is probably scared to death and it's all my fault!”

"Oh dear, our king hasn’t properly warned you of the labyrinth, has he? Well, I can tell you with certainty that the brother you shed tears for is safely tucked away in his manor. Our king is kind and always watches over us, including little ol’ me. But in this place, things are not what you expect— for example, take that wall in front of you. It is no ordinary wall.”

The fairy's wings gently fluttered as she lifted herself towards the wall. Placing a small hand against it, she seemed to keep floating forward.

Slowly calming your tears, you picked yourself off the ground and approached the wall. Hand outstretched, you expected yourself to stop short, only you stumbled forward.

"So it’s an illusion...” You walked further and were finally able to place your hand against the cobble, where you saw paths on either side. The fairy slowly settled onto your shoulder, her wings limply hanging downward.

"I’m sorry, dear— my wings don’t quite flutter how they used to. Can you set me down near that mushroom there? Thank you.”

"No, I should be thanking you. I needed your help.” You crouched and held your palm towards your shoulder. The fairy hopped onto it, and you set her on the dirt.

"Oh dearie, it was nothing. Now go, he’s waiting for you!”

"Thank you again.”

The fairy gave you a warm smile before waving you away, her hands sparkling as you straightened up. There were two paths to choose from, both looking nearly identical. You looked to the right first, which was lined with spotted mushrooms, and then to the left, where flowers grew from stone walls. Your feet moved towards the left path, distracted by the flowers, but you stopped.

"Maybe the flowers are a trap. Their smell is so overwhelmingly sweet, it's giving me a headache— I can't go that way.” You shook your head and swiftly turned to the right, following the mushrooms down the path.

You walked and walked for what felt like hours, the pulsating walls shifting from gray cobblestone to green hedges, the changes taking place in your peripheral vision. When you looked over your shoulder, you noticed that shrubbery covered the opening you came through. You pulled the dagger from its sheath and carved an arrow into the ground, marking your path. Keeping the knife out, you trekked through the hedge maze, and when you reached a dead end, you sighed and turned back— only for the arrow mark to be missing.

"What the hell? This is such a sick joke— I swear it was right here! Ugh!” You stomped, and the stone tile beneath your foot clicked. Your breath stalled short as your eyes darted around, but you saw nothing. You heard the sudden rustle of leaves, and turned to find that the dead end had opened into an archway. It could have been some sort of trap, but you were desperate, and hurried through the opening.

The passage slowly opened to a courtyard surrounded by round hedge walls, and you froze as fear took hold of you. Between two pillars, you found a mysterious creature sleeping. It was blocking something— a door.

"This has to be the way. Of course it wouldn’t be so easy. I need to find a way around this thing— whatever it is."

You surveyed the creature from a distance, still frozen in fear and awe. Curled like a sleeping housecat, it resembled a golden lion with feathered wings. How were you going to get around it? Your sweaty fingers gripped the hilt of the dagger Robin had given you. It wasn’t much, but you took comfort in having something to defend yourself with. You inched forward, trying to find a way around the beast.

The animal stirred and you froze immediately, sweat beading on your temple as you defensively held the knife in front of you. The creature then growled and twisted, stretching out in its sleep. A crystal ball rested under its paw, suddenly lighting up, and an all-too-familiar voice shouted through it.

"Chrissy, wake up!”

The creature hummed and swiped at the ball, which rolled its way towards you. Maybe this was your chance for contact— to see if your brother was alright.

You quickly sheathed the dagger and dropped down to hoist the crystal ball into your hands, backing away from the creature. Larger than the one previously offered to you, the orb reflected a man with shaggy curls. You glared at his image, but Eddie's attention was elsewhere as he shouted at someone, his voice muffled by all the noise around him. In the background, you heard the sounds of goblins yelling and knocking each other over as something metal loudly clattered to the floor.

"Eddie, the kid is causing too much trouble! He nearly decapitated little Mike with a sword just now! You watch him, I need a break!”

"Stevie you can't leave now! He likes you!"

"Not my problem! And stop calling me that!

The unknown man huffed in annoyance before walking off and Eddie rolled his eyes before he let out a heavy sigh.

"Some one else was watching over Dustin? And he was around a sword?!"

Eddie's pointed ears twitched at a high-pitched scream and he groaned, before turning his head to face you.

"How many times do I—? Oh hello, Miss Henderson.” His eyes widened, not expecting to see you on the other end of the crystal.

"Where is he?” Your voice was low and angry as you quickly hid behind a pillar, but he seemed distracted.

"Where’s who? Hey!" The ball jostled as it was ripped from his hands. "Get back here!” He started chasing after the thief, and when he seemed close, you heard childish laughter.

"Dustin, is that you!?” Your eyes brimmed with tears as you clutched the ball close, a relieved sigh escaping— none of your fears had come true.

The laughter became louder as your brother’s gummy grin took center stage, his blue eyes crinkled with glee as he ran, the crystal shaking in his hands.

"Dustin! Dustin! Are you okay?!” Your voice shook as you tried to get his attention, lowering it as the sleeping creature stirred. He laughed and joyously called your name.

"I okay, no worry!”

"Are you sure? You're not hurt? Where are you?” Your questions came out quick, but he giggled, his curls bouncing as he ran.

"I at Eddie's house! I like it here and I like Eddie! He play with me and I still eat my veggies, like you say! But Eddie don’t eat.”

"I’m coming to get you, okay? I'll be there soon. Then we’re gonna go home and eat all the ice cream you want. If the goblins do anything bad, then you hit them real hard and run away.”

"Yay!" The boy cheered, but his running slowed, his eyes droopy and tired. "Pinky promise...?”

"Pinky promise…I…I love you.”

"Love you…” he yawned.

Suddenly he was scooped up, laughing sleepily— something you didn’t think you would miss so much.

"I’ll take that back now, you little rascal— time for bed.”

The image shook once again as Eddie plucked the crystal ball from Dustin's grip, holding it out to show the two of them. Dustin dug his face into his shoulder and clung to his neck, legs wrapped around his torso. The man’s eyes were gentle as he shifted his attention from the boy to you, and with a soft voice, he stared you down.

"You have eleven hours— I'll see you soon.”

Red smoke filled the crystal, and when it cleared, he was gone.

"What was all that about? No, forget him, Dustin is okay. He's been eating and now he's going to sleep. See me soon? When I see Eddie, I’m gonna—"

You set the large crystal ball on the ground and turned to the now very-much-awake creature— one that was half-human, dressed in a white and gold toga. Her ocean blue eyes were piercing, her golden hair perfectly framing her soft face.

"It seems you caught me napping— you must be the famous Henderson girl I hear so much about.” The creature's voice was soft and tired, her eyes staring you down as you stood away from her.

How did all of these creatures know you?

You kept still, your heart furiously beating in your ears. You were sure she could hear it too.

"That knife at your hip— I hope you weren't planning on using it on me. Otherwise, you might have been my lunch.” she grinned nonchalantly.

You quickly shook your head— a lie.

"Come closer, don't be shy. I’m Chrissy and I promise I won’t eat you— there are things here that are far worse than me. Now for your test!”

You slowly began to approach her, noticing three large locks on the door behind her.

"Test? What kind of test?”

"It’s really easy, just answer some riddles and unlock the door behind me to continue towards the city. Easy-peasy!”

"Wait, riddles? You're a sphinx?” You wracked your head for the story, remembering the creature from a book of Greek mythology you read for history class.

"Well no, I’m a goblin. We come in all shapes and sizes." Chrissy was a large creature, but she began to shrink, her lion legs shifting into human ones. Her toga reached her ankles, and her bare feet seemed to have been dipped in gold. Her blonde hair fell just past her shoulders as she yawned, arms stretching out above her head.

You watched in awe and she smiled brightly, giving you jazz hands. The golden bangles around her wrists clanked when she did so.

"Alright then, I have three riddles for you. If you can’t solve them, then unfortunately, you'll be...misplaced.”

"Wait, misplaced? Where to?”

"Typically you’d be placed anywhere in the labyrinth, but in this case, I was told to send you back to the beginning.”

Your eyes widened and she laughed, her jewelry jingling as she approached you.

"So, are you ready or not? You don’t have that much time…”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Hopefully all those Dungeons and Dragons sessions would pay off.

"I’m ready…I think.”

She clasped her hands together in prayer and her blue eyes gently closed. When she opened them a few seconds later, they glowed a bright gold. You flinched at the unexpected change, but tried to relax. This was your first true test.

"Your first riddle is this: if given one, you’ll have many or none at all.” Her voice echoed throughout the landing, shaking the hedge walls.

You steadied yourself and delved deep into your mind, stewing in the question. You had to think carefully; if you gave the wrong answer, you would have to start all over again. And if you did, there most likely wouldn't be a kind fairy creature to help you. What would you even choose to say? There were so many choices.

Wait.

Taking a deep breath, you shakily gave your first answer.

"A choice…?”

Chrissy smiled, and a lock from behind her fell to the floor.

"That is correct— your destiny is shaped by the choices you make on your journey through life. Many choices can alter your path, whether they lead you to ruin, or lead you to glory. Choices give the power to challenge your fate. Now your second riddle is this: some are cherished, some are hated, and even if lost, they remain with you.”

You stared at her, taking in her words, imprinting them into your mind. It could be people— maybe it was. But how are lost people still with you? In your heart?

Suddenly you thought of your father, the day he left Hawkins ingrained into your memory. Your mother was pregnant with Dustin at the time— you remembered her crying after work, still in her scrubs. You remembered the day she came home with your brother in a carrier and how she cried for weeks after. You remembered seeing her less often. You remembered waking up to feed Dustin when your mother worked night shifts. You remembered not having a Sweet 16th after he was born. You remembered helping to pay for his racecar bed. You remembered getting him to say your name for the first time. It was his first word. You remembered raising him, and you remembered loving him so much. But you remembered the sleepless nights before tests. You remembered missing school to watch over him when he was sick. You remembered crying when he wouldn’t stop. You remembered having to swallow back the tears when your mother was there. The memories were a cocktail of pain, loss, and happiness.

You remembered…

"Is the answer memories?”

Another of the locks fell to the ground, causing it to shake.

"Correct— memories are powerful. They may hold a person's love or hate, their joy and their grief, and some may choose to block them out. The memories you hold dear will always be imprinted into your heart, even as years pass. Our memories shape us, and you are now stronger because of them. Keep those memories close, for even if they hurt, they are a part of who you are. Now, your last riddle is this: they arrive every night, whether invited or not. They can be seen, but not heard or touched. If one falls, they all keep moving.”

You absorbed her words into your mind— you needed to get this right, or you would be doomed to reset this death trap. Tapping your foot, you tried to wrap your head around the riddle. You looked up at the sky above you, falling into a distant memory.

"Whas in da sky?”

"Those are stars, Dustin. You can only see them clearly out here.”

"Why?”

"Because it's dark here.”

"The dark is scawy...”

"It can be, but the stars will always keep you safe.”

"How?”

"Well, you see that up there? That’s the North Star— when it comes out, you make a wish on it. And guess what? If you follow it, it can take you home.”

You sat on the driveway with Dustin in your lap, staring up into the starry sky. There had been a blackout, and your mother was still working at the hospital. The sudden darkness had scared the boy, and you tried to calm his cries by bringing him outside.

"It can?”

"Yeah, and do you wanna know the coolest thing?”

"Wha?”

"Sometimes stars fall from the sky. They say bye-bye to their mommies and they go on their own adventure. They fly by and spread their magic dust to make you happy.”

"Really? They not scawed?”

"Maybe, but it’s okay to be scared. Their mommies are always watching.”

"And sisters?”

"Yeah buddy, their sisters watch them too.”

Dustin leaned against you, staring up at the sky with awe in his bright blue eyes. The stars, despite the blackout, kept on moving.

"Is Mommy still working?”

"Yeah, the hospital needs a lot of help, so she’s staying late.”

"I sleep with you?”

He looked up at you with pleading puppy-dog eyes, and how could you say no to that? You sighed and gently nodded.

"Yeah, you can sleep in my room 'til Mom gets back.”

He cheered and leaned against you, his eyes starting to close, and for a second, you thought a comet shot through the sky.

You wished things were different.

"Stars— the answer is stars.” Your voice came out shaky and unsure, and you held your breath until finally, after what felt like years, the final lock clicked open and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

"Correct— for centuries, the stars have guided the lost, and today, their memory guides you forward. Whenever you feel lost in your heart, unsure of how to navigate the darkness within, then look to the night sky. Follow the stars and allow them to guide you, just as they guided others long ago. Just as the stars keep moving, so will you. Congratulations— you have passed the test and may continue on your journey.”

You held your breath, your eyes wide with shock. Your heart raced as you stood still, as if one wrong move would send you back to the start of the labyrinth. But your anxiety melted into joy when you realized that you had done it— you had passed the first test. You let out a shaky breath, your trembling hands quickly rubbing away the joyous tears that poured down your cheeks. Breaking into a smile, you turned to the orb, pointing at it with a determined fire in your eyes.

"See that, Eddie?! Fuck you, I did it! Bring it on!”

Chrissy smiled and tried to hide her laugh. She closed her glowing eyes, and when she blinked them open, she was herself again.

"Do watch out for traps, won’t you? I would like to see you at the banquet.”

"Banquet?”

"Yes, I would like to see you there alive and well. We have a celebration coming up and would love to have you there.”

You stared at her with confusion etching your features— as if you would voluntarily spend another second in this godforsaken place.

Chrissy stepped aside as the door swung open, exposing a topiary of a lion on the other side of the passage. You turned to her as she stretched and yawned, her form shifting back to her more animal-like appearance. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you were finally able to voice your concern.

"Are the next trials harder?”

"Well, everything has its difficulties and everything has its solutions. You’ll be fine, just keep looking ahead.”

"Alright, thank you!”

You took a deep breath, and with a newfound excitement, you passed through the doorway, your eyes trained on the topiary ahead. You looked back at Chrissy, who seemed to settle into sleep, and with a wide smile, you began to run. Your shoes pounded against the flagstone floor as you hurried through the passage.

But then the flagstone was gone, there was no ground, and your eyes widened as you fell down a gaping abyss. You clawed at the edge of the stone, but it was too late. Your heart raced as you helplessly flailed your arms, the darkness swallowing the scream you let out as you plummeted into the unknown. Was this the your fate all along? Had you made the wrong choice? Gone the wrong way? Were you going to die?

"I should have looked where I was stepping."

You fell down, down into the abyss, and the darkness consumed you.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I know it took almost a year to get here but it's here! I'm a full time college student and coming up with original puzzles for this was no easy feat I'll tell you what. I promise I haven't given up yet! Don't forget to reblog, like and comment it really helps! (gosh I sound like a Youtuber lol) But anyways thank you again for reading and back to the writing cave I go!

Taglist: (If you want to be placed on it comment under here)

@fan-girl-97 @sh0wthyself @maxstecc @mirkwoodshewolf @bellalillyrose @under-the-clouds @bllshtbel @ali-r3n @darknesseddiem @ladyjbrekker @mewchiili

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m-cristiny · 6 months ago

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nemesyaaa · 5 months ago

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“ DO I MAKE YOU FEEL SICK ? ”

( tw ; cannibalism as a form of love.)

( bones and all (moodboards) au's belong to @starfxkrreloaded )

hope you like it moony !! <333 (bc as i said i will sacrifice my bones and body for him. come, eat me alive. let me be a part of you. consume me.)

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sebastianlynx · 5 days ago

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#blade runner #favourite movies #movie #blade runner 2049 #blade runner fanart #blade runner au #blade runner black lotus #blade runner 1982 #cyberpunk #cyberpunk girl #night city #futuristic #cyberpunk art #cyberpunk aesthetic

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crazymadpassionatelove · 6 months ago

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Notes: 18+ Sex & miscarriage mentioned

All the love and praise to my favorite blonde babe of an editor @ab4eva who holds my hand through it all and @precious-little-scoundrel for her screams of support!

Elvis Presley Quietly Marries At Home

The man with the famous pelvis is now a married man! Colonel Parker confirmed that Elvis married Paramount actress Leona Grace at his home in Memphis on the nineteenth of March. The wedding comes on the heels of rumors that the new Mr. and Mrs. Presley are due for a visit from the stork. The Colonel’s response? “Those are questions for a different day”. The hush hush, spur of the moment wedding did not follow an engagement announcement and no pictures of the happy couple seem to exist beyond set outtake photos. The event reportedly took place in the evening with just family and close friends in attendance totaling about 50 people. A red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting was served for dessert and sources say that Elvis's own music was played late into the night as friends danced in the backyard of Presley's Graceland mansion.

Leona had once heard Joe remark that Graceland was full of ghosts. He had chuckled with a cigar hanging out of his mouth when he had said it, but Leona had believed him. Once in a while she'd get an eerie feeling at night when all the lights were out and the various friends and relatives who occupied the mansion were tucked away in bed. Clad in a white slip with her feet bare, she crept down to the kitchen for a glass of water and a little peace. The master bedroom was dark and cold, Elvis asleep under the black silk sheets. It had been a whirlwind few months and she was only ever able to reflect back on it all when she was alone, which was a rarity since becoming Mrs. Presley. She was still unsure as to where everything was in the kitchen, but glasses and silverware she was sure of. Leona thought she heard creeping footsteps behind her, and kept peering over her shoulder as the sink water ran. She settled on to one of the stools, her petite legs swinging as she sipped her water and tapped her freshly manicured nails on the table. She and Patsy had ventured out to the beauty salon earlier in the day, Elvis's cousin was a sweetheart but her non-stop chattering about the room down the hall that needed decorating seemed to be the only topic of conversation.

Leona’s biggest worries used to be whether she was getting cast in the newest buzzed about picture. Now the big concern was whether to have yellow bunny wallpaper or a toile print with puppies. She was still getting used to the weight of the 6 carat diamond on her hand, soon enough there would be a tiny little hand gripping hers. She let out a sigh she didn't know she had been holding in. Escaping Florida and the kitchy circus-like routine at Mac’s Mermaid Cove in the Florida Keys, Leona had been sending money back home to her mother and Grandma Alice in Orlando and scheming to win her breakout role. She had wanted to be a leading lady, but could never quite make the mark. She had once heard a director refer to her as “Florida trash”. She wasn't one to give up easily though. That persistence and all of the nagging and pleading to the higher ups at Paramount, helped her land a cushy supporting role in one of the newest Elvis Presley films. Paramount had agreed to lend her out for a price, now sitting in the kitchen of Graceland she did feel a bit smug knowing she wouldn't have to pay that price anymore in life.

The role wasn't Oscar worthy, but she felt like a winner the second Elvis had drawled hello to her and gently held her hand. There were flowers and gifts, despite the fact that the blonde leading actress also seemed to be receiving similar gifts from him? He had taken her out for milkshakes on a Friday night after being out with their co-star the night prior. With his buddies mingling about, the owner in awe and basically allowing Elvis to turn the burger joint into his personal hangout, the two had kissed and whispered in the backseat of his car. A little warm up for what was to come. Two days later he took her on the floor of his trailer and filled her full, twice.

What followed were nights of passion, a few tipsy heart to heart confessions where he talked of the loneliness since losing his mother and Leona told him of the loneliness she had been born feeling. She ignored the fact that he seemed to be wooing their co-star, or even the fans who traipsed into his trailer and left with dresses half buttoned or even on backwards. She liked what they had, she was allowed a moment of fun in life. Soon enough, things would wrap when the movie ended and this would be a story for her one day memoir. Her dalliance with the king.

Except - things took a different turn. Three days before shooting wrapped for good, blame all that rain for dragging out production, Leona had collapsed from what everyone thought was “heat exhaustion”. Only she knew, it was a combination of heat exhaustion and a missed period. The studio doctor quietly confirmed with a serious tone that Leona was indeed pregnant. Rather than take the options the studio was pushing, Leona knew that men had the power. And Elvis? Well he had more power than even the president, it seemed. With shaking hands and a face powdered full of blush to hide her pale face, she waved down his car filled with friends. He jumped out and leaned against the driver's side door, flicking a toothpick between his lips as she told him he was to be a father. He took the news shockingly better than most. My baby? He had smirked. He wasn't questioning paternity, more like confirming the news to himself out loud. His smile was big and she had a feeling his eyes were gleaming under those sunglasses. He nodded and placed his giant hands on her shoulders. “Everything is gonna be alright honey, we'll make things right and do the right thing,” he had assured her, topping it off with a tender kiss to her forehead. He wagged a finger and ordered her back to her trailer to rest, he'd be by soon. Then he slid back into the car and she heard him chuckling and announcing something to his pals who in turn all whooped and hollered as the car left the lot.

The water was cool and just what she needed to refresh her dry throat. She hadn't had much of an appetite at dinner despite proddings from Dodger. Everyone had told her she'd feel better as the days passed, she was officially 12 weeks and 2 days pregnant. She was crossing her fingers the better days were now upon her. She had been sick as a dog the day of the wedding. All hastily arranged and shrouded in secrecy as it was. She had settled for a dress the studio had gifted her, it still needed to be let out at the last second courtesy of one of Jerry's flings who was a costume designer. Once she had finished her drink, she placed the glass in the sink and crept back up the stairs. Down below, she heard muffled voices and a flirty female laugh. Probably Charlie and some blonde. They all tended to be blonde, the women who fluttered to the Mafia boys. The next best prize considering the King himself was taken. Leona wondered if he truly was though? They were virtual strangers when they married, but the deeply religious and old fashioned side of Elvis wouldn't take no for an answer. They had to marry, plain and simple.

She cursed herself for not wearing socks, her toes were freezing. They were painted a shade of red that seemed to make Elvis's tongue wag. On their wedding night, the passion he had shown her in his set trailer and in the backseats of cars still seemed to be there. Albeit, he was softer and a bit more gentle given her delicate state. They hadn't been apart for more than a few hours since they said I do. She could say fairly confidently that there weren't other women in his life. He was due to shoot another film in a few months time, Leona was curious if that would still be the case when they were apart. She slowly took each step that led her closer and closer back to the bedroom where he slept with a shy little boy like smile on his face. She was fond of him, sure, and definitely attracted. Maybe love would bloom with time, like her growing body she mused. The door creaked open, the dim light from the hallway flooded the room and Elvis stirred. “Doll? You ok?” His drawl even more pronounced and gruff sounding. “I was just getting a drink, I didn't mean to wake you,” she hushed him. She closed the door, closing the world off and away from Mr. and Mrs. Presley. It was so rare they were truly alone, she realized. He was sitting up, his hair a bit of a mess. He ran a hand through it and then patted the bed beside him, “C’mere pretty baby, come talk to me till my eyes close”. She scurried back into bed and her feet brushed against his. He threw his head back and chuckled in that way that made her heart flutter. “Someone's got cold feet!” he crooned in her ear. Then he was pulling her into his arms and under the covers. Her feet continued to dance with his as she laid on her side, his lips teasing behind her ear. She let out a satisfied hum and burrowed deeper into his embrace.

The dark, silent bedroom gave them more than just privacy. It was easier to joke, open up, and try and make some sense of this situation they found themselves in. He was pressing soft, open mouthed kisses to her neck and shoulders. His hands came to rest on her tits which she was sure had already gone up a cup size or two. He had seemed to notice as well. Her white cotton nightgown would probably be on the floor soon, but she wanted to talk some until that happened. She wasn't sure what to say, she really just wanted to hear him. Steady, calming, reassuring words. He had a knack for making troubles fade away. His raspy voice piped up as he rested his head against her. “Been thinkin’ bout doing a little recording again….not for the public though…wanna sing a couple songs for my baby, you can play em while I'm gone and stop em from fussing”. She felt that cheeky grin of his against her skin. “Oh? What are ya thinking? Adding a little rock n roll to Rock-A-Bye Baby?” Her laughter was met with a rash of kisses to anywhere he could reach. Then slowly, his hands left her breasts and trailed down to her lower belly where things were just beginning to form. “You're doin a real good job darlin’,” she could hear the tell-tale sign of sleep in his voice as his thumbs continued to rub small circles on her womb. She wasn't sure what exactly she was doing a great job at. Being a failed former actress, pregnant and married off in a flash, now resigned to a life that while glitzy and glamorous could also be fairly isolating? Was Elvis himself even aware of the sort of life he lived and how vastly different it was from most people? The thoughts tumbled into her head reminding her of the way she watched the seaweed tumble in the ocean water as a child. She'd pick Memphis and the Presley's over Florida and her own family any day, that's for sure.

She wasn't even sure of when exactly she fell asleep or for how long. That is, until she was awakened in a sweaty instant, she felt like her insides were being rung out like an old rag. She was hot and cold all at once, and her thighs felt soaked? She practically threw herself out of bed, that's when it all began to register. The squeezing, tugging feeling in her stomach seemed to be in sync with the sharp, stabbing in her lower back. Her hands went to her thighs, Had she? No. It was blood. The blood from her thighs stained her hands, it dripped down her feet, and when she spun around on uneasy, shaking legs she noticed it was all over the sheets as well. It was too much blood. Gasping and wailing, she leaned over the edge of the bed as the room began to spin. With all she had left in her, she shoved and begged for him until he shot up. “What's a matter?!” He barked in confusion. “Get me a doctor..get someone…help..” her breathing was coming in spurts as she felt a tingling sweep from her shoulders to her toes as she continued to grip the sheets, hoping this wasn't what she thought it was. She didn't hear his response, she couldn't. Everything went black.

She drifted in and out of consciousness for what felt like days on end. She heard the sounds of the doctor's voice, smooth and sympathetic. Della and Patsy talking softly to her. Dodger pressing a hand to her forehead. Sometimes she'd blink open an eye and catch Vernon in the chair in the very corner of the room. He was always there though. Elvis with his mouth close to her ear, murmuring, praying. His big hands squeezed around hers when he wasn't brushing her chocolate curls out of her face. Slowly, she came to the realization of what had happened. There wasn't going to be a baby Presley arriving in the Fall any longer.

The weeks that followed cemented a hysterical bond of sorts between Leona and Elvis. Every morning, when Mary brought Leona's breakfast up on a silver tray, Elvis would sit with her and make sure she drank her orange juice and take the horse pill looking vitamins the doc had recommended after all that blood loss. She had felt weak, physically and emotionally. With her father having run off when she was a child, and being raised by the overbearing tyrant duo that was her mother and grandmother, Leona had always hoped that her dreams of stardom would also blend well with a white picket fence. Dreams of coming home from movie sets to a shelf lined with little gold statues covered in sticky fingers, T-ball games, and a dog romping with a passel of kids in the sprinkler, an adoring husband by her side. Her hopes and dreams had perished alongside her baby. Elvis had leaped into his faith, reading to her, singing, telling her hope wasn't lost. She wasn't so sure though. They had married because of a baby, did she still have a marriage if she didn't have a baby?

Six weeks and one day after that horrible night, Leona had finally broached the subject. Was he going to cut her loose and they could annul the marriage? After all, they barely knew each other. Plus, Leona wanted her career, she couldn't rest without knowing if she was actually capable of cutting it as an actress. Elvis was aghast and furious. She watched his lips curl up and his face contort in anger in the same way it did when he fought with his father. “My wife ain't leaving my house,” he had snarled in her ear. Was he…hard? He was. This man was getting a hard on from ordering her around and telling her there wasn't going to be a divorce. And there definitely wasn't going to be a career for her like the one she had been used to. She raised her voice and spurred him on. He was hard for her and seemed to want to fight for her? Was Leona twisted for feeling a fluttering in her heart? She backed him into a corner and rambled on about the high possibility of him going on to screw other women in dark corners on movie sets or backstage. Was he really wanting to hang on to this marriage when there were so many pretty blondes desperate to taste him? His nostrils flared and she jammed a finger at him, conveniently landing it just above his cock. His eyes were dark with anger and lust. She gripped his shirt, wrinkling it, and finally pulled him to her mouth for a searing hot kiss. She saw no other way to end this dance at the moment. On the floor of their bedroom, he took with passion, panting into her ear and repeating, “You're my wife for my whole life, ya ain't going nowhere”. Bite marks littered her neck. He was inside her for the first time since it had happened. It made her emotional in more ways than one as he cradled her face and thrust into her desperately. Her orgasm ripped through her violently in perfect sync to his, he didn't withdraw. “This is your job now, being my wife and pleasin’ me,” his voice was smug and cocky as he tenderly tucked her into bed and pressed a soft lingering kiss to her cheek.

Since the dalliance on their bedroom floor, Leona had made it her mission to amp up the drama and theatrics. She had had some bit parts in a couple comedies, and was striving for a perfect sort of dark humor to get under Elvis's skin, convince him that she need be kept busy and not in a princess in a tower situation. Except - it was having the opposite effect it seemed. He found her antics amusing? She had started off strong, first making a trip downtown to Harris department store. She has bought a robins egg blue negligee, sent a sales employee scouring the back stockroom for the perfect pair of white kitten heel slippers with a little feather poof, and a white sheer scarf to tie up her hair. The cherry on top? A pair of cherry red, heart eyed sunglasses that she had once worn as an extra on set. Elvis was due for a lunch meeting with that vile reptile they all called Colonel Parker. Elvis had pressed a kiss to her shoulder as she sat at her dressing table powdering her face. She was clad in just her panties and bra, he had yet to see her little ensemble. She felt goosebumps form as he slid the strap of her bra to the side and pressed a kiss to the bare skin that had been covered.

“See ya in a bit, baby doll, gotta meet with the Colonel about some stuff,” his lips lingered on her skin while he eyed her in the mirror. Leona couldn't suppress the sour look that appeared on her face.

“What sort of stuff?” she questioned cooly.

“Some movie stuff, ain't nothing for you to worry that pretty head about,” his tone was casual yet dismissive. Those were fighting words for Leona, who stomped her foot like a child and demanded to know just exactly why he was allowed to make movies while she had been regulated to pick flowers in the garden with the dogs, lounge in the pool, and shop herself silly with Patsy. She felt like a bird in a cage, albeit a gold-plated diamond-studded cage.

“Oh, ya want me to start calling you my pretty little baby bird?” he teased, those long fingers, perfect for reaching all the right spots, were tickling at her ribs. Leona yanked away from his grasp and pouted. “Baby, you're a wife now, my wife, I'm gonna take care of things. No need for you to stress yourself and slave away to send money back home to your momma and granny, I had my daddy send a check two days ago,” Elvis explained, sliding on a pair of sunglasses that made him look utterly delectable as he shifted his weight from one leg to another in the doorway, seemingly unable to keep still.

Too frustrated to formulate a response that would accurately convey her angst, she took a beat before swerving herself around to face him. With a grin that could only be perfected after years after trying to charm sweaty, fat producers in suits, Leona turned to her husband. Her voice was dripping with a faux sugary sweet tone, “I'll be here waiting for you to get back, baby”. She knew that's exactly what he wanted to hear. Elvis blew her a kiss before he disappeared down the stairs. She heard him below in the kitchen, chatting with Mary, probably grabbing a sweet treat. His pals downstairs playing pool, she knew that'd be his next stop. Rounding them all, lest he ever go anywhere alone. It was the perfect time for Leona to change into her newest purchase and head outside, to the driveway. She examined herself in the mirror, she knew if the sunlight hit just the right way that everyone would be getting a nice view of Mrs. Presley’s chest courtesy of her basically sheer nightie. Her fingers combed through her chocolate curls and then she added an extra coat of lipstick, spritzing herself with some of that perfume Elvis had brought back after a trip away with the guys. With the sunglasses hiding her green eyes, it was now or never. She scurried down the stairs as fast as her kitten heels would carry her, the front door was in her sights and Elvis's booming laughter could be heard on the floor below her.

Suddenly a voice called her name, “Miss Leona where on earth are you headed in that get up? Looks like you belong up there in that bedroom the way you dressed!” Mary, Elvis's long-time housekeeper, was a peach with a spitfire sense of humor. She had been warm and motherly since the minute Leona had walked through the front door. A single finger came to rest on Leona's lips and she pointed to the floor, Mary caught on it seemed. She flung a dish towel over her shoulder and rolled her eyes good naturedly, “Don't you worry, I certainly won't be running and gabbing to Mr. Elvis tellin’ him his wife is half naked in the yard where folks and fancy photographer men might see…girl…you best do whatever it is you planning and fast”. Almost giddy with anticipation and curious to see just exactly how this scheme would land with her husband, Leona’s heels clicked on the driveway. She paused and did her best to look down towards the gates, shockingly, there was no one there. She wasn't sure if she was glad about that or not. Elvis's Cadillac was parked just a little past the front steps. If she was laying in the driveway, Joe wouldn't dare move an inch. Hell, they'd all be too busy averting their eyes and making small talk amongst themselves about what nice weather Memphis was having recently. What was her end game exactly? Leona wasn't completely sure. She just wanted Elvis to see her and hear her, truly. Her grandmother had told her growing up that marriage was a compromise, but if all else fails defer to your husband. When Leona had called home to tell her mother and grandmother she was marrying the Elvis Presley, her grandmother had said in not so many words to forget compromise and keep Elvis happy at all costs. Why should she stifle herself down for him though? Ok, maybe she didn't need to go back to Hollywood full-time. But she needed something, anything, to keep herself busy and fulfilled. If she had to spend the next fifty years praising him and his work, picking out curtains, and entertaining the Memphis Mafia and their various girls of the week she'd absolutely need a sanatorium.

The black asphalt was warm on the backs of her legs as Leona lay like she was making a snow angel. She heard the door open, the rowdy laughter and loud conversation that signaled the arrival of Elvis and co. Then someone spoke up, Leona was a bit too far back to place exactly who, but she thought it might be Charlie. “Uh, EP, that your wife laying down there in front of the car?” his voice sounded nervous. Suddenly the only thing Leona could hear was the sound of the birds and heavy footsteps approaching. It was as if the sun had snuck behind the clouds, everything felt dark as Elvis's shadow engulfed her. She pulled her sunglasses down and batted her eyelashes up at him. “Headin’ out honey?” She purred, she could feel her nipples hard and a hazy sheen of sweat covered her basically naked body. “Was plannin on it…seems to be a little detour though” Elvis crowed. “What are you up to little girl?” He leaned down closer to her face. “Well wouldn't you like to know..” Leona laughed, picking at her cuticles as if this whole scenario playing out was perfectly logical and normal. She watched him shake his head still, still sporting that grin, and motion for the guys to wait in the backyard. Her eyes darted to the side when she realized Elvis was laying down on the pavement beside her, his arms stretched back cradling his head. “I've got time…tell me baby”. He had his sunglasses on and a big toothy smile. Leona didn't expect him to use this tactic.

She crossed her arms over her chest, blocking his view of her hard nipples. He snorted when she did that. Her bottom lip jetted out into a pout. “If I'm here - and I'm certainly not going anywhere, you made that perfectly clear - then you should be too. No movies for me means no movies for you.” She lifted her shades to look at him and see if she could gauge his reaction behind his own sunglasses. His lip twitched and then he nodded slowly. “I'm so utterly bored, if you try and leave you'll just have to run me down, I've got nothing to do. I can afford to lay here practically naked for all your buddies and fans to see if that's what you'd like…honey.” She turned on the charm for the last part. Cooing and dropping her voice into a sweet little starlet tone. “Well ain't you slick”. Suddenly he was sitting up and sliding the sunglasses off. He towered over her from above. “Listen - I know you and half the folks in the house would just love it if I ripped up old Colonel’s contracts but I ain't doing that…I can't. So if you wanna lay on the ground and be a little whiny baby wife, have at it. I might have to punish ya for it though,” his voice was raspy when he spoke that last sentence and it made Leona’s stomach flip flop in the best way. “Or….you can march that pretty little behind back to our bed and wait for me to get home. If you're a good girl maybe I'll bring ya something shiny huh?” He was rising to his feet and held a hand out to her. Leona gripped her fingers into her hair frustrated before cutting her eyes up at him. “Fine..” she scoffed, taking his hand and marching back up the driveway, into the house, and past the family in the living room. Elvis trailed behind her like he was making she she'd do just that. When she reached the bottom of the staircase she yelped when he suddenly slapped her ass. Her plan foiled, she was now back to reality and keenly aware she was half naked in the foyer. She ran up the stairs, she didn't have to look behind her to know he was ogling her barely dressed body. When she reached the top of the stairs she did something that made him chuckle loudly enough that his father asked him what was so funny. Leona turned and winked at him before disappearing to their bedroom.

Just as her husband had suggested, Leona took to their bed. Mary had come up and changed the sheets and the evidence of how Elvis had licked her until she gushed last night was no longer present. Laying on her back like the starfish she remembered collecting as a child, she felt a tad foolish. She hadn't accomplished what she had hoped for and now she was destined to sit and wait for Elvis's return. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and she flicked them away with her finger tips lest she ruin her makeup. Now what? She thought to herself. A melancholy mood washed over her and when Mary came knocking announcing dinner, Leona sent her away claiming she wasn't hungry. She heard the older woman return and leave a tray outside the door but Leona couldn't muster up the energy to rise and feign eating. She caught her reflection in the mirror above the bed, tussling her hair with her fingers and throwing it back. She allowed her thoughts to wander and imagine what life would be like had she not fallen into this marriage. She'd probably be hustling all over via orders from the studio, fittings here, screen tests there. She didn't miss that part. Being on set, delivering perfectly executed monologues in one take, becoming someone entirely different? That's what Leona missed. Proving herself, making a name on her own, those were all things that had once lit a fire under her. All of that jazz about making lemons into lemonade would suggest that Leona try and do some of that here in her married life. Should she be like some of the other wealthy kept women in Memphis and join the garden club? Something told Leona that despite whatever money Elvis threw their way, she wouldn't exactly be welcome. Curling onto her side, Leona came to the realization that if she wanted to act she'd have to consider Graceland her only sound stage. Was there room for two hot shots in this house? Elvis's words from earlier rung in her ears. He had called her a whiny baby wife. Him and his good natured teasing. Maybe that was it though, that could be her new role. She could embrace her new title as leading lady of Graceland and be this whiny baby wife character.....

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