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muxshwriting · 5 days ago

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eyes with wings

pete 'maverick' mitchell x reader

summary: as a navy seal, your job often lands you in dangerous positions. but you've always got wings in the air to aid your eyes on the ground, right? || warnings: area of conflict, mentions of war, blood, death, injury, technically murder || word count: 2169 || masterlist

REQUESTED BY @mverickss : may I request a pete mitchell x fem!reader- it can be yk 86 or 2022 whatever your choice- where the reader is just as a sharpshooter as caitlyn from arcane

The first shot rang across the desert plane with a whistle all too familiar for those close. It was clean, especially with undesirable wind conditions and visibility. The stationary target crackled as your bullet striked the metal,

"Ghost," your SEAL commander stood just behind you, watching the shot. "The meeting is in five. Let's move."

You shift you weight to sit upwards once more and dismantling your rifle with precisioned and practised care. It was second nature to you after the years that you had dedicated to your craft. He leaves you there, striding back towards the main base building, not waiting for you to finish but knowing you'll follow as soon as you're done. The corridors wind past you, weaving through as you brush the final specks of sand from your uniform. As the meeting room draws closer, you hear the familiar voices of your commander and an old friend you once worked with.

"You want me to base my entire air strategy off a guy with a rifle and a god complex?"

"She’s a sniper, sir," said the SEAL commander, deadpan. "Not a god. Just very, very good at her job."

Maverick folded his arms, smirk sharp enough to cut a checklist. "Same difference."

You rap your hand againt the doorframe you'd been waiting by, taking pleasure in the jerk of Pete's head towards you. "Let's hope you fly as good as you talk Captain."

His face almost lit up at the sight of you, the only Navy SEAL he had worked with before and actually enjoyed. Most other soldiers looked down on the aviators and commanded him without asking for his opinion, despite his experience. But you? The first time you were paired together, you took the time out of the day to meet with him more casually and ask for his opinion and his views on possible plans.

"Ghost!"

"Mav."

He almost reaches towards you, his arms itching to pull you in for an embrace but holds his ground at the last second. You stalk forward from the door until you're standing directly in front of him, a small smile creeping onto your face. He surges forward, hugging you tightly. Maverick's arms wrapped tightly around you, his embrace bordering on possessive. It was the kind of hug you could feel he had been holding back, needing this, needing you. He took a moment to savor the proximity, breathing in your familiar scent, as if it helped to ground him.

Finally, he pulled back slightly, "It's been too damn long."

"Are you ready for this op? Our target's quite a tricky one." You tease him, knowing this mission falls well within his capabilites.

Mav's smirk returned, a twinkle in his eye. "Oh, I'm always ready for a bit of a challenge." His gaze roved up and down your form, lingering for just a split second longer than necessary. "Besides, I have a feeling you'll be there to keep me in line." His tone was flirtatious, bordering on teasing.

"You forget you're in the sky and I'm on the ground. If anything, you're keeping me in line."

Your conversation is cut short by your commander loudly clearing his throat, looking deeply uncomfortable and as if he isn't quite sure how to react when other people socialise in front of him. "Right, I have your mission details here, anything else you need to discuss... I'll be in my office."

As soon as the door swings shut, you and Pete almost collapse onto each other with stifled laughter. You both compose yourselves quickly, the moment of levity giving way to the sharp edge of what lay ahead. The mission wasn’t just another routine drop or long-range engagement, it was very different. High risk, high reward, like all the best ones are. And deeply personal for reasons you weren’t sure the others fully understood yet…

You stepped closer to the large screen that flickered to life as your SEAL commander keyed in his access code. A topographical map of mountainous terrain in the distant war zone not far from the army base filled the display. Several red markers blinked steadily in a tight grid across a deep valley canyon, enemy encampments, anti-air batteries, and confirmed patrol routes.

At the center, a single blinking yellow icon pulsed faintly.

“Our target,” the commander said, tapping the icon.

You frowned, “It’s not a single target,” you said quietly, already parsing through possibilities. “It’s a network.”

“Correct,” the commander affirmed. “But at the heart of this particular network is a rogue ex-intel officer. He’s been moving classified material to enemy lines and we need to prevent any more sensitive material from being shared. We’ve tracked him through three countries, and this is the first window we’ve had in months. Forty-eight hours from now, he vanishes again, and we may not get another shot.”

Maverick’s easygoing smirk faded, the weight of the situation settling over him like a familiar jacket. “What’s the extraction look like?”

Your commander clicked through a few files, pulling up satellite photos of a makeshift airstrip carved into the canyon. “You’ll be flying through a narrow ravine with limited visual clearance and unpredictable crosswinds. Precision flying is non-negotiable. You’re our eyes in the sky. Ghost will be coordinating from a concealed sniper nest along the north ridge. You’re both the tip of the spear.”

You crossed your arms, scanning the layout with a seasoned eye. “What about air defenses?”

“Two known SAM sites. Intel believes they’re operational. You’ll be flying in low to avoid detection, and Ghost will be in place to neutralize ground threats prior to your ingress. Timing is key.”

Pete nodded, jaw tightening. “Sounds like you’re setting me up to thread a needle at Mach speed while dodging enemy fire and avoiding washing out or hitting the ground.”

You gave him a sly glance. “Good thing you like a challenge.”

“And I trust you’ll be there to clear the way,” he replied, softer this time. His gaze flicked briefly to the map, then to you.

“Always.”

There was a beat of silence between you before the commander stepped in again, voice gruff but resolute. “Get your gear prepped, rest if you can. We launch at dawn.” He didn’t wait for a response, exiting the room in the efficient, silent manner he always preferred.

Once alone again, you and Pete remained by the map, both staring at the blinking yellow icon. The room was quieter now, more intimate, despite the tension. The stakes had never been higher. You weren’t just risking lives. You were gambling trust, history, and the fragile bond between ground and sky.

“This mission,” Pete said after a moment, “could go south real fast.”

You nodded. “That’s why we don’t let it.”

He reached out, just briefly, brushing your shoulder. It was a gesture of trust, of familiarity. “Watch my six,” he murmured.

You met his gaze with steel in your eyes. “Always.”

The desert wind howled through the narrow canyon as you adjusted your scope. From your perch on the north ridge, the world below looked like a chessboard of tension. The convoy was already in motion, dust pluming behind the three armored SUVs. Your job was simple: wait for visual confirmation, then eliminate the ground defenses to clear Maverick’s path so he could eliminate the final target.

The comms crackled in your earpiece.

“Ghost, visual acquired. Target en route. T-minus three minutes to flyby.” Mav’s voice was steady. Confident. Familiar.

You steadied your breathing, letting your body fall into the calm that preceded every shot. The first SAM crew appeared, three men scrambling to mount the launcher but they didn’t move fast enough. You made note of their posture, adjusted for wind, then exhaled.

Your shots cracked through the air, sending jolts of surprise down your spine.

One.

Two.

Three.

The launcher crew slumped over, the threat neutralized. You were moving to the second site when a flicker of motion caught your eye: too fast, and in the wrong direction.

“Command, we’ve got an unmarked drone entering from the east,” you called, already adjusting your scope. The rising run almost hid the drone from view, the glimmers could always be written off as mirages and reflections of light. But you knew better.

“Negative,” came the reply. “No friendly UAVs in the sector.”

You were staring at the goddamn drone, not listening to your command’s word and resisting the urge to rip out your earpiece from frustration. Your instincts screamed a half-second before the drone fired. A streak of light lanced toward the southern ridge, Maverick’s route.

“Mav! Evade! Evade! Missile inbound straight ahead!”

The sky turned to fire as the cliffside behind you erupted. You were thrown off your perch, tumbling across rock and dirt, gun clattering out of your hands, gear skidding out of reach. Alarms blared over comms, voices yelling, but none louder than your own breath coming ragged and shallow.

“Ghost, come in. Say again, do you copy?”

You scrambled for your comm, fingers bleeding and scraped. “I’m hit. The drone hit the ridge. They knew we were coming.”

"Copy. My approach’s compromised. I’ve got heat signatures locking on me from two sides." You could hear the strain in Maverick’s voice, the G-forces pressing on him as he banked and climbed in a desperate evasive pattern.

You reached for you rifle, thanking any greater power watching over that it wasn’t damaged by the attack, dragging it to you with trembling arms. Through the scope, you spotted a scurry of movement, half hidden by a camouflaged tarp that was hiding a second launcher.

The flurry stopped and the vehicle careened out from it’s cover, heading in your direction. “Southwest ravine. Mobile SAM. I’m taking the shot.”

“Negative, Ghost. You’re too exposed-”

You were wide out in the open but you were already zeroing in. The pain in your shoulder from the fall made it hard to steady, but you didn't hesitate. This was what you were made for.

A direct hit. The operator dropped, but not before the missile launched.

“Fox two inbound, I can’t shake it!” Mav’s voice shook and you watched his jet appear in the skies above you, moving with a frantic need for survival.

Your stomach dropped. The sky above you screamed with motion as Maverick’s jet banked sharply, afterburners firing. He dumped countermeasures, one flare, two, three- But it was too late. The missile clipped his tail. Not a kill shot but enough to send him spiraling.

“I’ve lost hydraulic control! I’m going down—trying for emergency landing in the basin, east quadrant!”

You were already on your feet, sprinting. The map in your mind recalculating as you ran, east quadrant was a two-klick descent, rough terrain, enemy territory. Each step was near agony, a shooting pain racing through your body with protest. You pushed the pain aside.

“Stay with me, Mav. Keep talking.”

His voice crackled, weak but fighting. “Don’t suppose… you brought me a landing strip… and a cold beer.”

You bit back emotion. “You land, I’ll bring the beer. Just don’t die before I get there.”

Then silence. Your feet pounded the earth as smoke rose on the horizon, a black column marking the spot where your friend, your partner, had gone down.

You reached the crash zone just as the smoke began to thin, revealing the mangled skeleton of Maverick’s aircraft half-buried in sand and rock. The heat from the engine still shimmered off the wreckage. You dropped into a crouch, weapon raised, scanning the perimeter. Movement, at the far side, almost imperceptible.

“Pete,” you hissed into comms. “Talk to me.”

A low groan crackled through. “Still here. Crashed like a rockstar. Broke something, I’m not sure if it’s the plane or my ribs.”

You sprinted the last ten meters, sliding to your knees beside him. Maverick sat half-upright, blood streaked down his temple and his left arm hanging limp. But he was breathing. Alive.

“Ghost,” he muttered, relief flooding his eyes. “God, I knew you’d come.”

“Save it for later,” you said, pulling him upright with more strength than grace. “You’re not dying out here. We’ve got company.”

Sure enough, the sound of engines echoed faintly—two transport trucks and a technical with a mounted gun cresting the nearby ridge.

“Three vehicles incoming. Ten, maybe twelve hostiles,” you muttered, slinging his arm over your shoulders. “Can you walk?”

“I can limp with flair,” he said, gritting his teeth.

You hauled him into the remains of the fuselage, dragging him behind the engine block for cover. Through the gaps in twisted metal, you watched boots hit sand, fanned out in a combat spread. You slid your last frag grenade from your belt and handed it to Pete.

He blinked at you. “Are we blowing ourselves up now?”

“No,” you said, cocking your rifle. “Just stalling until I’ve thinned the herd. Then you chuck this at the heavy gun and pray it doesn’t bounce back.”

“I love our dates,” he muttered, his grin weak but still there.

this took a lot of focus but i think it was worth it

#peter maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #maverick x reader #maverick #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #topgun #top gun #muxsh #muxshwriting

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muxshwriting · 12 days ago

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more seth clearwater stories plzz!!

hello! this has only taken me *checks notes* too fricking long to do. but the good news is, i have my final a-level exam on monday and will then finally be free for the whole summer!

it’s quite a long one to make up for the long wait :)

a different version

#seth clearwater x reader #seth clearwater #twilight x reader #twilight #muxsh #muxshwriting

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muxshwriting · 12 days ago

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a different version

seth clearwater x reader

summary: a quiet beach boy, a few unshared details, an ancient rivalry and the reveal of all things || warnings: slight miscommunication, not beta read || word count: 2085 || masterlist

tags: @s-kwya

It’s easier to ignore the pelting rain hitting your skin every second when the waves are crashing over and over in front of you. It’s the repetitiveness, the calm serenity and chaos of the ocean that can’t be beaten when you just need to get away from life for a while. It doesn’t matter that your coat stopped protecting you a while ago and your clothes are slowly getting soaked to your skin.

Your family is rather unorthodox, a coven of vampires taking in a teenage human because of a promise. You don’t know what your father did for Carlisle that warranted him taking such good care of your after your parent’s deaths but you were grateful for the chance. It was an easier life than what could have been.

It was easy to ignore the stares at school, keep your head down, have your own group of friends, your own eccentric hobbies. Sometimes it was easy to ignore that your family were literal vampires. Other times, it was painfully obvious. There never seemed to be a moment of quiet in the house, always awake, always doing something. So in moments of overwhelming activity, you would escape and go wherever nature carried you.

The beach was one of the first places you’d found on your travels, a quiet part of Washington where no one else seemed to come or care about. For the moment when your mind and soul were far to busy, it was just yours to have and hold for as long as you needed.

The crunch of pebbles shakes you back to the present moment, the sound of footsteps coming closer. You glance up, wiping rain from your eyes, or maybe they were tears. Everything blended into one.

There’s a boy standing there, seemingly immune to the rain staring at you with concern. “Are you alright?” He asks. He looks around your age, late teens at most but you don’t recognise him from school, most likely going to the local rez school.

“I’m fine. Sorry, is this a private beach?” You ask him, worried you’ve been intruding on a space that you shouldn’t.

The boy shrugs, digging his shoes into the pebbles beside you and sitting down. “It’s part of the reservation but you’re not hunting anything.” His words trailed off.

“But I shouldn’t really be here.” You finish for him, already pulling your soaked coat tighter around yourself and clamouring to your feet. “I won’t come back.”

“Wait-“ The boy hurriedly joins you on his feet. “What’s your name?”

You tell him, omitting your surname because it’s a complicated subject. Was it Cullen now?

“I’m Seth. You’re more than welcome to come back to the beach, honestly. You seem to enjoy it.”

You hide a small smile. “Nature welcomes me home.” You reply cryptically. “The house gets busy and it’s nice to get away.”

Seth’s eyes widen as he seems to completely understand what you’re saying. “Maybe we can run into each other on the beach again?”

“That’s be nice.” You say the words before every thinking them. “I don’t know when I’ll be back…”

“I’ll wait.” He smirks, going to sit back down on the rocks.

You reach out to keep him upright, only succeeding in pulling him closer to you. He’s warm, seemingly radiating heat in the cold but you’re not sure that it’s not your face turning a flaming red. “Do you have a phone number?”

“Yeah.” His face must be a reflection of yours, blushing a pink that suits him more than anything.

You scramble in your pockets for a pen, writing the number on your arm so you don’t forget. “I could ring you next time I’m heading out here?”

“I’d like that.”

You can’t stop the giddy grin that covers you face and sticks around for hours into that evening and night. Your family notice something, of course they do, but they say nothing.

You and Seth started slow, days blending together through secret phone calls and beach meet ups. Then the casual meetings turned into planned walks, a flask of cocoa passed between them as they stared across the sea from cliffs.

Seth never pressed, didn’t push to ask you about your past of your newer family. He knew you were staying with your father’s friends but not much more. But something soft began to settle between you, a connection you’ve never had before. Not with your school friends, not even with your family.

With the Cullens, everything came with layers of meaning and subtext and caution. But Seth was a warmth that drew you in to rest, the break you didn’t know you needed until he was there, sitting beside you with sand between his toes and sunlight in his smile.

One late afternoon, the clouds are dark and threatening to thunder. You were curled at your usual stretch of beach, the beach that had become you and Seth’s, head on his shoulder with his arms wrapped around you. His fingers draw idle circles on your wrist, an innocent touch that made your heart flutter.

“I feel like I’ve known you longer than I have.” You murmur to him without thinking.

Seth didn’t answer at first, his head turning to stare at you. “Yeah. Me too.” There’s a breath that shuffles you on his shoulder. “It feels like I was waiting.”

“For what?” You turn your own head to meet his gaze.

“For you.”

You stay wrapped in his arms until the first drops of rain fall. He holds you in his arms for just a moment more, pressing a kiss against your forehead before pulling away. It was almost perfect, the way he shrugged a jacket off of his waist and wrapped it around your shoulders with a whisper of keeping you warm when he couldn’t.

You keep the jacket close the whole way home, finally taking it off and folding it ever so gently so you can return it when you see him next.

“She smells like them.” Alice says suddenly that evening when the whole family is in the living room, her eyes sharp.

“I didn’t think you were visiting La Push,” Emmett added, barely looking up from his video games. His tone was accusing you of anything, just curious. But the atmosphere shifted, a small thread of tension blooming.

Carlisle, as always, stayed quiet but kind, being the devoted diplomat. “If there’s something you want to tell us, you can. You’re safe here.”

Your first thought was that the Cullens had some kind of prejudice against the tribe. You didn’t know what to say. You hadn’t gone to La Push, that was a different beach that the other boys preferred. “It’s just a beach.”

The very next day, you’d met Seth at the edge of a river, his jacket tossed over your arm to return. During the walk, you’d recounted what your family had said to you about his community and watched the colour drain from his face.

“You’re with the leeches?!” Seth’s voice was thunderous, full of rage and betrayal.

“What?”

“The Cullens!”

You’re head is reeling with the fact that Seth knows the Cullens are vampires. “Yeah. Carlisle took me in after my parents died.”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“I didn’t know it was such a big thing! How do you know?”

“I’m part of the pack.” Seth said it like it was most simple explanation ever.

“The what?”

“You don’t know about the pack?” His voice had calmed as you stared at him, shaking your head softly. “They didn’t tell you anything.”

“They told me what they were when I realised something was off. I don’t get told anything else.”

Seth was completely confused. First, he met a pretty girl at the beach, set eyes on her, realised she was his mate and couldn’t stay away. Second, she was a Cullen, part of the coven of vampires that the pack was sworn to attack. Except she wasn’t a vampire an knew next to nothing about them. Even weirder, when they met, she had no lingering stench of death that people who spent time around vampires were surrounded by. Third, she didn’t know about them pack, and as her mate, Seth was obligated to tell her everything. And for good measure, fourth, Seth was definitely in love with her despite all of it.

“Did you tell the Cullen’s about us?”

“No.”

“Go home. Tell Carlisle about me, tell him that we’ll meet on the border and I will explain everything to you, I promise.”

You nod slowly, coming to terms with everything that’s been mentioned and alluded to. Then, you take a step closer to Seth, the position reminiscent of the first time you met on the beach, barely inches away, breathing each other’s breath. “Are you mad?”

“At you? Never.” He quickly replies. “We’ll figure it out.”

He leans forward, your face almost touching his until he ducks his head and presses a sweet kiss against your lips as if to promise.

“You’re not like them.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means I don’t think you’ve figured out who you are yet.” He said slowly, before turning on his heel and taking off through the woods, leaving you standing there, his jacket still in your hands. You glance at the jacket, still clinging o the warmth of him. Your fingers tighten around the sleeves as the cold creeps back in.

Then at home, the house feels even colder than usual. Everyone is paired off, Emmet and Rosalie in the garage, Jasper and Alice are whispering in their bedroom and Edward is watching you too closely again. He knows something, everything. Of course he does. You don’t make it five steps inside the house until Carlisle is clearing his throat and appearing from around the corner.

“There’s a boy.” He says if softly, not a a question.

You just nod. “Seth. He said you need to explain everything to me, then we’ll all meet at the border.”

His expression is unreadable for a moment, like he’s calculating the truth.

“What’s going on?” You whisper the question, hesitant.

His eyes soften as he pulls you to sit with him. “I made a vow to your father to protect you, even from the truth if I had to. It was wrong, I shouldn’t have knowing how likely it would be that you’d get caught up in everything.”

He sighs, rolls his shoulders back and tells you everything, from the very beginning, to anything that might be tangentially related.

The meeting at the border starts just as the sun starts to set. When you arrive to the clearing, it’s just Seth there, and you with Carlisle. It’s neutral ground, just trees and silence like so much else of the forest, the gentle sound of birds in the distance. You’re not really sure what to expect, but when two other boys, older men, emerge from the tree line to flank Seth, your heart can’t help but lurch. You turn back to Carlisle, unsure what true etiquette was. He nods once to you and steps back. the other boys stay away, seeming to respect him, even if they don’t trust him.

You and Seth meet in the middle, alone.

“You came.” He says, quieter than ever.

“You asked me to.” You reply, voice almost too soft to hear.

There’s a moment of silence before Seth reaches for your hand and presses it against his heart. “They told you everything?” You nod once. “Then I want to show you something.”

Before you can respond, your hand is no longer pressed against skin, but fur. The wolf before you is staring up with bright eyes and soft fur that ruffles in the gentle breeze. There’s almost an instinct telling you to run, but you don’t, slowly, you run your hands across his brow. He gently steps away, returning back as the Seth you know.

“You don’t smell like them.” One of the other men speak up from behind him. “You don’t reek of death like someone whose lives with bloodsuckers. Why?”

“She’s not meant to be one of us.” Carlisle steps slightly forward. “Anyone with eyes can see that.” There’s a silent blessing he gives as the line of truth is fully crossed.

Seth gives you a blinding smile, the one that says he doesn’t care about anything beyond this, because it doesn’t matter. Surrounded by the ancient rivalries and questions bigger than anyone, it feels like the most honest truth you’ve ever heard.

#seth clearwater #seth clearwater x reader #twilight x reader #twilight #muxsh #muxshwriting

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muxshwriting · 19 days ago

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'tis finished. one of the longer fics i've written!

on your side

teaser for a new fic…

Maverick didn’t fly unless his wife was manning the communications tower, everyone at any base he was stationed at knew that. It was a partnership stronger than most camaraderie and friendship within squadrons, the connection of making sure the other got home that night to their shared bed.

Many admirals had tried to forbid the partnership, citing the deeper connection the pair shared but when they got to see the quiet professionalism that the two worked with, they couldn’t deny their requests.

Within Top Gun, there were whispers of how they originally met, an irate air controller waiting on the tarmac for Maverick to get out of his plane, arms crossed and a furious glare aimed towards him. The whispers say that Maverick was besotted when the first insult and beration fell from her lips.

He stared at her for the longest time, letting her tell her frustration to it’s finish without interruption or response. There was a creeping smile on his face, eyes crinkling and bright beneath his aviators. For Mav, it was love at first sight. For you, it would take an unfathomable amount of convincing.

But slowly, Mav was winning you over with witty radio comments and flirtations through corridor passings. Nothing came of it, you were very uptight about keeping your work as professional as you could and Pete Mitchell was the opposite of professional.

Then there was the accident.

And you had to hear Pete’s heartbreaking radio messages about his failing plane and the incident that occurred. You were sat frozen to your seat, headset glued on as you listened again and again to the chatter of rescue helicopters and medics as they brought the pilots back, with only one alive.

It was the moment that Pete touched down on the tarmac and practically fell into your waiting arms that everything seemed to change. Since that day, the pair were never seen apart beyond one being in the sky. You remained by his side, ever devoted, as Pete was cleared of wrongdoing from Goose’s death and found his love of flying again.

You didn’t know Goose very well, only remembering him as the very kind and apologetic RIO of the pilot who drove you up the walls more often than not. His death truly was a loss for the navy and for anyone who had the pleasure of knowing him.

There was a whispered promise one night when you were wrapped in each other’s arms, tightly clinging, afraid of letting go. A question of what the future would hold for both of you. You whisper a promise back, though thick and thin, every choice, every hardship and every smile, you would be there.

#top gun

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muxshwriting · 19 days ago

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on your side

Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x reader

summary: you made a vow when you married pete, that you would stand by him through everything, but now you're not sure he would do the same for you, watching as he flies a deadly mission and takes a hit meant for someone else || warnings: grief, mentions of death, kinda shitty relationships || word count: 1853 || masterlist

Then there was the accident.

Decades fly past, and you do exactly as you promised. Through all his deployments, you’re in his tower, on the other side of his radio ready to do everything you can to bring your husband home safely. Then there’s the rumours of his latest Mach 10 project being shut down and you’re standing beside Hondo as Pete isn’t forcibly retired from the Navy, but instead welcomed back to Top Gun.

“Can you believe it?” He’s asked you that night as you packed up your lives.

Inside your mind, there was a war. If they were bringing Pete back, it was a hard mission, almost impossible. But he got to keep doing what he loved for a little bit longer, so you were thankful for that thought. “You’re not worried?”

Pete shook his head, almost laughing. “Why would I be?”

You didn’t push the subject, zipping shut the last bag. “Have you thanked Ice?” Iceman, Tom, Pete’s best man at your wedding, the man who had kept Pete’s naval career alive for this long by pushing back against every opposing voice.

“I’ll go see him when we’re in Miramar.”

The weeks fly by in a daze, the fact that Pete is training Goose’s son, Ice’s death, the slow and steady realisation that some of the pilots will not come back from this mission. It beats like a heartbeat in the back of your mind, constantly taunting you with the fact. But what’s worse is watching Mav fly through the air better than everyone else and knowing the Navy will have no choice but to let him fly. There’s a final nail in the coffin when he sets off unauthorised and your voice rings out to him over the radio.

“Maverick to range control. Entering point Alpha, confirm green range.”

“Maverick this is range control. Green range is confirmed but you’re not meant to be there.”

“I’m going anyway darling. Setting time to target 2 minutes and 15 seconds.” It was a pure balls move, to prove what the admirals had said was truly impossible, what the admirals were giving the others four minutes and a following dogfight to do. “File attack point, Maverick’s inbound.”

Your sigh is audible over the airwaves. “Flight plan is go. Go get ‘em Maverick.”

The day the newly named dagger squad stands on the deck of the carrier ready to take off, you’re standing with your forehead pressed against Pete’s. You are almost being forced to watch his impending possible death from the centre stage of command because of his dedication to flying with you always. Your heart patters nervously in your chest, a heaviness settling upon you like a dark cloud as you hold steady for just a moment more, hoping for eternity.

“Come back to me. Keep Rooster safe if you can, keep them all safe.” It’s a silent prayer repeated over and over by many of the crew aboard the mission and connected to it.

“Wait for me and I’ll be here.” He mutters back, hearing the sky calling him and being all too ready to answer.

The air is tense as you take your seat and slide the familiar headset over your ears, tuning out the outside world and into the screens and scrolling data in front of you. The mission drags as every breath runs a knife into your lungs. Time is slower, watching the dots of planes travel across the radar towards the target. Then, it’s like everything is happening at once. They fly through the canyon towards the target, succeeding in their attempt and then emerging into what can only be described as hell.

The chatter over the radio gets more and more chaotic as they’re fighting against the missiles sent their way. “Mav! No!”

“Dagger One is hit. I repeat Dagger One is hit. Maverick is down.” Phoenix’s voice rings out through the radio, almost echoing through the control room.

With the simple declaration, you know the screens and data isn’t wrong, that Maverick’s plane isn’t fine. He’s gone down, he’s gone. And in that split sconce, your world shatters, the one constant you have had for countless years has just vanished from your life forever.

“Dagger one status!” Rooster’s voice somehow makes the aching wound split wide open, knowing what regrets the pilot would now have for ever word the pair had exchanged. “Does anyone see him?”

It can only get worse as the enemy deploys aircraft of their own. “Mitchell…” The shared surname seems to echo through the control room, slipping from an Admiral’s mouth as they comprehend the situation. “You’re excused from your position.” He turns to another air control officer. “Get them back to the carrier.”

You practically run from the control room, ripping your headset off and letting your chair rock unsteadily. No one tries to stop you, they know. It’s better to let you go, to let you run and probably never come back to this place, to this time, the moment when your husband died.

The corridors on the ship are a maze that you weave through to find a space where no one will find you. There’s an empty office with the lights off and an empty desk, an office no one will be poking their head into and asking why you were there. You sink to your knees, crawling under the desk just to feel enclosed as the emotions bubble up through your throats and sobs emerge from your mouth.

You’re mourning the man you loved and the future you could have had once this mission was finally over. There’s no future you would share now. The hours pass in a blurry daze, time being irrelevant to you now.

The door slams open, an out of breath Hondo looking relieved at finding you. He calls your name but it’s like you’re underwater, like you can’t even hear him. There’s a ringing that you just need to say something, anything, to get rid of it, to shake your head of the pain and pity you’ll receive the moment you stand.

“My parents told me I was crazy for marrying a Navy man, nevertheless a pilot.” You say, tears streaming down your face as you turn to look up at Hondo. Your voice breaks from all the crying, throat sore. “I told them that’s what love was. And now that love is gone? It’s all gone.”

He says your name once more and this time it breaks through the haze. His face comes into focus and you can’t help but notice the repressed joy that is smattered across. He’s happy, in a time like this, when your husband has been shot down and Rooster disobeyed direct orders to go after him, risking his own life.

“They’re alive.”

It’s two words. Two words that relight the spark that burns with a passion within your soul, two words that give you hope. They’re alive, both of them, both of them are alive. And if Hondo knows they’re alive, it means they’re on their way home, they’re coming home.

Hondo reaches out a hand to pull you to your feet and you gladly accept the support. Your legs still feel shaky as you wipe away your tears. “They’re both alive?”

“They just landed.”

You tear down towards the deck, pushing through the throngs of crowds and personnel all heading the same direction. Those that recognise you step aside to let you pass. When the sun catches your skin and you emerge onto the deck, your eyes scan the crowds searching for the man, ten minutes ago, you thought was dead.

Finally, you lock eyes with Pete, the crowd parting as you rush towards each other, crashing together in fiery embrace. His arms wrap around you with desperate strength, as though afraid you might never feel this again. You feel the tremble in his chest, half laughter, half sobs, as he buries his face in your shoulder.

“I thought I'd lost you,” you whisper, voice breaking.

“I never stopped trying to get back to you,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to search your face, eyes wide with disbelief. “You waited and I promised I’d come back.”

The world fades, the noise, the chaos, the stares of strangers, until it's just the two of you, standing in the wreckage of everything that tried to keep you apart. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you're whole again.

#pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #maverick #pete mitchell x reader #peter maverick mitchell x reader #maverick x reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun x reader #topgun #top gun #top gun maverick #tom cruise #muxsh #muxshwriting

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muxshwriting · 21 days ago

Text

teaser for a new fic…

Then there was the accident.

#pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell x reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun

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muxshwriting · 26 days ago

Text

turned to dust

paul atreides x reader

summary: the attack on arrakeen revealed that you lost far more than you even knew you had. to let go of what flames and fight hadn't already claimed was a mercy || warnings: break up, slight arguments, death, violence || word count: 766 || masterlist

The world still smelled like smoke and blood, burning at the edges with insistence. The wind cuts through the broken landscape of a scarred Arrakeen, bitter and filled with ghosts of what were people only hours before. You sit with Paul on the rocks overlooking the city, having fled into the desert to save his life. The Palace looks like it crumbling, jagged silhouettes across the sunrise and a marred wound across its side.

There are no more enemies out in the desert, only the awful silence that carries the weight of your survival. You carry a tattered piece of fabric with you, wrapped around your head and shoulders to block the sun. It's charred at it's edges, a banner? A tunic? You're not sure what it once was. Just a memory.

Paul slumps against the cracked stone, ground still trembling. His face is streaked with soot, a cut bleeding sluggishly across his hairline, dribbling down the side of his face, it's porcelain now broken. His hands, usually so sure and calm wring together over and over to soothe himself.

Neither of you speak, staring over the destruction.

Finally, Paul's voice breaks the silence, low and rough like sandpaper across his vocal chords. "It's all gone. We saved nothing," he said. "Nothing that mattered."

You can't tear your eyes from the palace, once so full of life and laughter, now a graveyard. Soldiers, servants, friends. All gone. There was the endless corridors you wound through of an evening, the secret alcoves where you and Paul would weave in embrace and stay for hours. All of it would be ash now, burned by the fire of the Harkonnens.

"I don't think we ever had it." You whisper, scared to speak. "The Emperor just let us borrow it, until the Harkonnens or the desert took it back." Your own voice sounds strange to your ears.

Paul's eyes found yours, looking far too old for his age. "I thought if we were careful enough, House Atreides could protect it."

You laugh, a short and sharp sound that takes both of you by surpirse "You can't control the desert Paul. You let it carry you along to where it wants to go, not to where you do. You just try to survive it."

He bowed his head, a shaky breath leaving him. For a moment, he looked like the boy you first met, all hope and fierce light. And for a moment, you hated this, hated that you had lived when so many had not. Hated that you were being asked to begin again when all you wanted was to mourn what had been lost.

"We let go." You said, more to yourself than him. Your voice sounded much more confident than you felt. "Or this fire finishes what it started."

Paul closed his eyes and you see the moment he understands. He doesn't accept it, not yet. But he understands. He reaches out, and for a heartbeat, you let him hold your hand like nothing happened. It's a small thing, a real thing.

"Just like that," his voice turned bitter as he pulled his hand away like you had burned him. "You walk away to what? It's all gone!"

"I'm trying to salvage whatever life I can build next." You raise your voice back, knowing it can't continue this way. "Your destiny is far greater than mine Paul Atreides, you and I both know that. You need to understand that we can never be the same, there's no point in trying."

Paul stumbled backwards, rage rising through his body. "The future is what we make it! I'm not listening to a Bene Gesserit witch tell me what to do!"

"Maybe you should." Your voice calms to an eerie level and he freezes, your words hitting him like a wall.

"What?" His voice is lower than ever, slowly asking you the question.

"Be the messiah, the Lisan Al-Gaib your mother says you can be. Save the Imperium and when you're done, think back on this conversation and tell me I'm wrong. Tell me that nothing has changes and that nothing needs to change."

The looks passed between you two speak volumes.

"Just like that?"

"Just like this." You turn on your heel and leave Paul in the desert to point his own way. You weave back into the walls of Arrakeen, helping civilians back to their feet and back to their lives. There is no future for you, no greater power guiding you, only yourself and your motivation.

There will not be another fire to claim what survived the others.

#paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atredies x reader #dune #dune part two #dune x reader #dune part 2 #timothee chalamet #muxsh #muxshwriting

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muxshwriting · 1 month ago

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pink skies

Daniel Ricciardo x reader

summary: after your husbands retirement from formula one, you take the time to show him how much he matters at home || warnings: i cried writing this, it is inspired by all the sad danny ric edits on tiktok, missing danny ric hours, angst, fluff, starting a family || word count: 1058 || masterlist

Everybody in Singapore that day knew. It wasn’t official, nothing was confirmed, but everyone knew. This was the end for Daniel Ricciardo, the last hurrah, the final race.

You watched as he hovered by the car before heading back to the garage, how he teared up in every interview and didn’t try to hide his emotions anymore when asked about the future. He’s savouring every moment he can in this world before it’s all stripped away from him without so much as an apology.

You can’t help but feel admiration for the man you married as he stumbles into your arms in his driver’s room after all the interviews, clinging to anything he can to keep himself upright. It doesn’t matter how long you have to stay at that track if it means Daniel can leave with a clearer conscience and a bittersweet smile.

He spent the next few hours saying goodbye to every engineer that had created his car across the year. His signature smile remained on his face, even as tears fell. He smiled like a man who could see the storm approaching but refused to run.

It’s well past midnight when Daniel finally takes his first step outside the paddock and admits to himself that this is it. You hold him close that night, closer then most others.

“You deserve so much more.” You whisper into the night air, knowing you could never say this to his face. “You deserve such a perfect goodbye and they are all too self-centred to give you what you’ve earned.”

Daniel holds in a shuddered breath at your words, still pretending to sleep. He hasn’t slept well at all recently, not since people stopped answering his questions about his contract. But he could always count on you. If there was one constant in a rocking sea, you were his land.

You both returned to Australia, to a friends ranch that was far enough in the outback that you could ignore the real world. Slowly and steadily, day by day, you saw your old Daniel peeking through the downtrodden exterior. There was a chance that the restless optimist you had originally fallen in love with could return, ready to chase the next thrill with the confidence of someone who had never doubted the ride in the first place.

Two months later, you’re back at home, curled up on the sofa with Daniel resting his mop of curls on your lap. You reach for the remote and turn on the TV, flicking through channels when the formula one appears, in Las Vegas. At the familiar sound, Daniel perks up before you can change it onto something else.

“Can you turn it up?” He asks quietly, so that you can barely hear him.

It was almost like 2023 again, where you could watch Daniel watching the races but sense his longing for that life back. But this time, there a quiet acceptance that the chapter had closed and he was able to watch someone else’s chapter of the story play out.

Before the race has even started, he’s sitting upright, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Max is gonna win it.” He mutters under his breath. “He’s gonna win it all.”

The race passes with a palpability until it’s all but confirmed. Daniel jumps up as Max crosses the line, shouting at the TV and celebrating like he was the won to win the championship. You’re able to snap a video of his celebration and silently send it to Max before Danny notices your phone in your hand. He’s back wearing mischief like a second skin as he sweeps you into his arms and spins you around.

“Danny!” Your laughter bubbles from beneath the surface and Danny’s joins yours.

“He won it! I knew he would…”

You can’t let the melancholy settle for too long. “You should call him.” You suggest gently. “You know he’d love to hear it from you.”

“Yeah…” He replies. “Yeah.”

The rest of the season passes as a blur, only catching glimpses of the other races and news of results. Danny’s preoccupied by your new domestic life, tending to the animals and watching the sunrises and sunsets. Although, there’s a lot more sunsets than sunrises as sleep claims him long into the mornings.

Summer swells and Christmas draws closer in Australia. You’re surrounded by everyone who loves you and Danny and there’s no place better than this one, in this exact moment.

You settle into the evening, still feeling the buzz in your veins as you settle in the doorway of your home. Danny joins you, an arm wrapped around your waist as you lean into him. Together, you stare in silence as the sun begins to slip below the horizon and the sky becomes a smattering of oranges and yellows and pinks.

“Thank you.” Danny whispers to you.

“For what?”

He takes a breath. “In Singapore, when you thought I was asleep, you told me I deserved better. I didn’t think I did then, but you made me realise that I do now. So… thank you.”

You laugh lightly, realising what he had heard. “You deserve everything.” You grasp his hand, pulling it down to rest on your stomach. Danny’s had one too many glasses of wine to understand what you’re trying to tell him, resting his head in the crook in your neck and nudging it against your skin.

“You’re so drunk Danny.”

Danny scrunched his nose in such an adorable way. “And you’re sober.”

“I know.” You replied, cryptically.

“We should change that.” Danny tries to lead you back inside but you keep his hand pressed against you.

“I can’t.”

“You can!”

“Danny…” You raise an eyebrow at him, motioning for him to look down and finally notice where you’ve been holding his hand. “I can’t.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh my god. You’re- Oh my god! I’m gonna be- You’re-“ He’s stumbling over his words, a smile wider than the sun on his face. it almost makes you think the sunrise has reversed and the day has returned.

“Breathe Danny. You’re gonna be a dad.”

He’s gasping for air as he processes every emotion he can in a fleeting second. “…I love you.”

You grasp him close as he holds you like he never wants to let go.

“You deserve everything…”

#daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #danny ric #dr3 #dr3 x reader #danny ric x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #muxsh #muxshwriting

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muxshwriting · 1 month ago

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casual casualty

Nina Zenik x fem!reader

summary: you and nina shared a summer like no other, even in a place like ketterdam. then it’s all over like it was nothing || warnings: internalised homophobia, angst, heartbreak || word count: 853 || masterlist

From the moment you met Nina, she had something you'd never seen before, never experienced. There was a draw towards her, something that only made you want her more, crave her. Nina would have to hide her smile every time she felt your heart jump after looking at her. Perhaps she could forge a new happily ever after with you, perhaps that was possible.

It started as a whirlwind romance: late night talks, lingering touches that evolved into an ache in your chest every time she kissed you senseless. You practically moved into her room in the Crow Club, yours becoming covered in dust and silence.

Nina drags you out of bed one morning, a smile plastered across her face. You can't help but laugh as she pulls you out of the door. Together, you weave through the muddy streets of Ketterdam until you're out of the city. When tattered buildings give way to rolling fields, you let yourself breathe for the first time since waking.

"Nina." You shout her name as she races ahead of you. "Nina! Wait for me!"

She laughs back at you, slowing down for you to catch up. It's still dark outside and you're stumbling every time you hit a dip in the dirt. But as the sky lightens, you realize why she'd dragged you out so early.

You fall to the ground beside her, wrapped up in her arms and watching the horizon explode into a myriad of color. The reds and yellows feel like an ancient Ravkan painting. In your mind, you're thinking that you could live in this moment forever.

Then, something changed.

It was subtle at first, Nina wouldn't sit next to you during meals. She stayed to her side of the bed, no longer tangled with your limbs. Perhaps she just wasn't feeling well, needed some time to herself? But then Kaz called the meeting that confirmed something else.

"We are breaking Matthias Helvar out of Hellgate." As he spoke, he looked at Nina pointedly.

You knew damn well who Matthias was, a drüskelle that had rescued her from slavers. You knew Nina loved him. But selfishly, part of you thought you could be enough for her.

You lay beside her in the darkness that night, your hand twisted with hers. "What are we?"

The silence that permeated the room made you question if Nina was actually asleep. But then the sheets rustled and her hand slipped from yours. "What do you mean?"

"We just never made anything official…" You're begging her to make it official, but you know that asking means it could end the opposite way. If Matthias was joining the Crows…

Nina sighs slightly, pulling the covers tighter against herself. "Oh." You know she can hear your heartbeat raging in your ears. "There's no official attachment though, not really."

Your heartbeat sinks in your chest but you should've known. "We're just casual, yeah," you said, defeated. This was the end of hope.

You should have seen the signs months ago, the nights where she wouldn't return until morning. She always explained it away as just being out late for Kaz or helping some of the younger Grisha kids that grew up in the shadows. All that time, she was sneaking out to visit him in Hellgate.

Once Kaz had gotten him out, there was nothing stopping them. He and Nina spent every second close to one another, enraptured in each other's company.

You tell yourself it didn't mean anything, but as Nina kisses him with sweet fragility, your mind replays the moments you had shared with her. You wish it had been anything but casual. Being nothing would have been better than this.

But you just had to be casual. And that casual would evolve until it was like nothing had happened. Perhaps to Nina, that's what it was, nothing. But to you?

Why weren't you good enough for her? What did he have that you didn't? Why weren't they just casual?

You doubt that Matthias even knows about what you and Nina were, the time that you had spent together. But you did, you cradled that knowledge in your mind and you knew you would forever.

To you, she could well be the one that got away. To her, you were just some fun for a while, nothing serious. She wasn't affected in any way, just moving on with the upgraded model.

There's nothing more to do than continue with your life, ignoring the stabbing pains in your heart. You curse your body for being so obvious with your pain, a drawn expression covering your face more often than not now. And as the other Crows watch you helplessly, you're still staring at Nina and Matthias, remembering when that was you.

You've read enough stories to know that sometimes love just isn't fair, that the one you want might want someone else entirely. As you watch them together, whispering and laughing like they've never been apart, you silently vow to pull yourself back up. This would all become a distant memory to you, forgotten the same way that Nina had.

#nina zenik #nina zenik x reader #danielle galligan #shadow and bone #grishaverse #shadow and bone x reader #grishaverse x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #muxshwriting #muxsh

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muxshwriting · 2 months ago

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playing parent

bridgerton!reader

summary: you only mean to escape for a moment before dawn, but as the dawn rises on you, being caught could be the best thing that’s happened in a while || warnings: arguing, being stressed, worry, anxiety || word count: 2078 || masterlist

taglist: @eywas-heir

It was just a ride out into the night. It calmed you like nothing else, the sound of pure nature while the rest of the world slept. When the air was whistling past your ears and the ground flying under you, it felt like you could do anything. There was no expectation upon you, no society watching your every move. There was only the sounds of birds as they woke and the gentle glow of a soon-to-be rising sun.

Only on this morning, when you'd returned your horse to its stable and creeped back inside, the house wasn't entirely asleep.

"Where have you been?" Your eldest brother, still in his night shirt, is staring at you from the upstairs balcony. His voice is hushed but it carries.

You can't hope that he doesn't notice your riding attire, of the mud brushed across the bottom of your hem, or the fact that you're holding your riding boots behind you. "Just went for a stroll, in the garden..."

"That's rather a lot of mud for the garden." He had seen through her lie in an instant. "My study, now."

You walk to his study, frustration leaching into your steps. There will be no escaping this lecture. You don’t meet Anthony’s eyes as you take your seat opposite him, keeping your eyes on his desk.

“Do you realise how irresponsible you are?” Anthony began, “What is something happened to you?”

He’s pacing, too wound up to sit but also fighting off the exhaustion of early morning. His hands are on his hips, then running through his hair, then one resting on the desk as the other points at you.

“You disppear before dawn even breaks, no note, no escort.” His voice isn;t raised, just worried and that’s worse. “I wake up and you’re just coming home, what if everyone else woke up and you were gone?”

There’s no right way to respond to this so you just stay silent. The weight of Anthony’s disapproval settles heavily around the room.

“Look at me.”

You finally glance up, seeing the heavy set exhaustion in his eyes.

“I know this family can be a lot but we worry about you. You are not alone in this family. And you are not-“

“Sometimes I need space Anthony.” You interrupt him, your voice sharp as you have to force the words out. “Sometimes I just need to get away from everything and when I’m out riding, there’s nothing and no one there to tell me what I can do. Is that so difficult to understand?”

Anthony was back to combing through his hair, pulling at the strands. “You could’ve gotten hurt, or worse. What would I have to say to Mother?”

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re acting like it.” He pressed. “Adults talk to each other about their feelings, they sort it out logically, not by avoiding everything.”

The silence carries across the room as your eyes fall back to the desk, tears springing. You hadn’t thought what would happen if something went wrong, you just needed to get away for a brief moment. But then there’s a burning embarrassment that threatens to redden your cheeks and reveal itself.

“Are you angry about me going out riding?” You ask carefully, meeting his gaze. “Or are you angry because you didn’t notice?”

His jaw tightens. “Now that’s unfair. If you weren’t being a child before-“

“But it’s true. It’s something you’re not in control of.” Your voice is steady, calm.

Anthony’s hands fall to his sides. His voice, when he finally speaks, is soft. Tired. “You think I enjoy this? Being the one who always worries. Who’s always bracing for something to go wrong?”

“No,” you say, gentler now. “But you don’t get to be angry at me for needing a moment of peace when you give us no room to breathe.”

You both stand there for a moment, two sides of the same coin. Finally, Anthony sighs. “You could’ve told me.”

“I will next time.”

Anthony resigns and nods slowly. It’s a truce, but not quite a full solution. As he watches you leave, he knows there’s only one person who will fully make you see the sense he’s trying to impose: your mother.

Later that afternoon, you join Violet in the drawing room, her stitching lying limp in her lap. She seems very distracted when you walk in but as she meets your gaze, with measured calmness and knowing, you know she knows.

“Come sit.” She pats the seat beside her and your heart skips a beat, it’s not really a request.

She doesn’t speak right away, watching the sun bask the plants outside the window in golden rays.

“You went out riding this morning.” She slowly said, voice soft. “Not for the first time?”

You sigh, “Anthony told you? Of course he did.”

She reaches a hand to your arm. “He was worried about you.”

“He’s overreacting.” You mutter. “I’ll tell him the next time I go out…”

Violet turns to you then, her gaze sharper than her tone. “Was he? Or is that what you tell yourself so you don’t have to think about why you needed to ride out alone in the first place?”

You blink, caught off guard by the quiet precision of her words.

“I’m not angry,” she continues, voice dropping even lower. “But I am… concerned. You don’t slip away like that unless something is aching inside you.”

Your eyes fall down to your twisting hands, a movement getting all too familiar. “I just needed a bit of peace, a but of quiet. Somewhere I don’t have to justify my every action or have every action be watched.”

Violet reaches over and takes your hand, warm and light. “You are part of a very large, very loud family, my darling. I understand the need for solitude. I understand it more than you know.” Her thumb brushes over your knuckles. “But when your father died, all of you became my heartbeat. Every single one. And I dread the day one of those disappears.”

“I’m not trying to frighten anyone.” Your reply, shrinking in your seat.

“I know,” she reassures. “You do not need to earn your space in this family by being perfect. Or helpful. Or quiet. You already belong.”

That’s what finally cracks something in your chest. Not a sob. Just a small exhale, shaky at the edges.

Violet kisses your temple and pulls you in, just enough, not too tight. “Next time, maybe take someone with you? You don’t have to talk, you don’t have to ride side by side but just to have someone there to make sure you come home?”

Your eyes fall nod into her shoulder. “I will Mama, I promise.”

You find Eloise sitting cross-legged on the library floor, surrounded by a chaotic sprawl of books she probably pulled off the shelves five minutes ago and hasn’t actually opened.

She doesn’t look up as you enter. Just flips a page in the book resting on her knee and says, coolly,“So. You’ve joined the club.”

You blink. “What club?”

“The ‘I Can’t Breathe In This House So I Fled Into the Night’ club,” she says, waving a hand dramatically. “Membership: me. Formerly just me.”

You sigh and move to sit in the armchair across from her. “You heard.”

“I have ears. And a very loud brother. And a mother who made tea like someone had died.”

You chuckle despite yourself, and Eloise finally glances up, narrowing her eyes. “So what was it? Crushing weight of societal expectation? Anthony being Anthony? Existential dread?”

“All of the above.”

She hums. “Fair.”

You know, when I used to sneak out, it was different,” she says. “Everyone expected it. I’m the difficult one, the odd one. But you're the dependable one. So no one ever thinks to ask if you’re suffocating.”

You glance at her, startled by how close she’s come to the truth.

“I hated it, when I realized that,” Eloise says. “That you were disappearing in plain sight and no one noticed. Not even me.”

“It’s not your job to notice,” you say quietly.

“Maybe not. But you notice me. Every time. Every mess I make. Every letter I’m afraid to send. Every stupid little spiral I think I’m hiding well.” She pauses. “You’ve always been… safe. And I hate that we’ve made that your job.”

You open your mouth probably to deny it, or joke, or shrug it off but she cuts you off with a look.

“Don’t,” she says, sharper now. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this easier for me.”

You sit back, stunned into silence.

Then she adds, “I think we all forget that you're a person. Not just… the glue.”

You blink fast. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

“I didn’t either,” she admits. “But if you’re not there one morning-“

“Thanks for the guilt Eloise, gosh.”

A long pause stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

Finally, she clears her throat. “So. Next time you’re planning a midnight gallop of self-preservation… can I come?”

You blink. “You want to ride at dawn?”

“I’ll bring biscuits. You bring the existential despair.”

You laugh, and it feels like breathing again.

“Deal.”

It’s the next day when Benedict finds out, sitting in the drawing room, staring out the window at some half-dead grass. The book resting in your lap hasn’t been touched in half an hour.

Benedict doesn’t announce himself. He just walks in, calm and quiet, holding a small wooden case in one hand and a rolled-up piece of linen canvas in the other.

He stops beside you. “You look bored.”

You glance up at him, arching an eyebrow. “That’s a bold accusation.”

“It’s not an accusation,” he says easily, settling beside you on the bench. “It’s an observation. And I’d like to help.”

You eye the items in his hands. “Unless that’s a bottle of gin, I’m not sure how.”

He smirks. “Better. Paint.”

You blink. “You want me to paint?”

“No,” he says, then reconsiders. “Yes. But not in a ‘you must express your inner turmoil’ sort of way. Just… I thought you might want to try something different. Something no one else in this house expects from you.”

“Oh great, did Eloise tell you about our ‘inner turmoil’ talk? Can nothing stay a secret in this family?”

He grins. “No.”

You hesitate to even reach for his supplies. “I’ve never really painted before.”

“Even better,” he grins. “No pressure to be brilliant. Just messy.”

“You think it’ll help?”

He glances over, offering a softer smile now. “It’s not about skill. It’s about the space it gives me to be… unpolished. I thought maybe you could use a little of that too. Besides, if you get paint on the table and cry a little while pretending it’s about colour theory, no one will question you. Which is more than I can say for disappearing on horseback at dawn.”

You make a single streak across the canvas. It’s too dark, a little uneven. But something about it feels good. Tangible. Benedict doesn’t say anything more. He just picks up his own brush, and paints beside you, quiet and content, without expectation.

It’s late. The kind of late where the house has stilled, the hearths are dying down, and even the night has softened into hush. You’re still there, brush in hand, stained with colour.

Benedict’s gone to bed, but he left the supplies—didn’t pack them away, didn’t ask for the space back. He knew you’d return. The canvas in front of you is no longer blank.

It’s not a masterpiece. The colours clash in places. A few brushstrokes are too heavy, others too light. But it’s yours. And for once, it doesn’t matter what it looks like. It matters that it exists. There’s a smudge of green on your wrist. A streak of ochre under your thumbnail.

You stare at the painting—this strange, chaotic thing—and feel something unfamiliar settle in your chest.

Not peace. Not quite. But… stillness. And that’s new.

Painting might not be the god given solace that Benedict believes it is, but it could be the gateway to finding what yours will be.

Silence. Just the rustle of leaves against the glass, the soft tick of the old clock.

You exhale.

And then, without overthinking, you dip your brush into a warm shade of gold and drag your paintbrush across the canvas, adding to the chaos once more.

#bridgerton!reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #muxsh #muxshwriting #anthony bridgerton #violet bridgerton x daughter!reader #violet bridgerton #benedict bridgerton

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muxshwriting · 2 months ago

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hii! i loved doomsday!!! would you consider a part 2?

i saw this ask and immediately got inspired, cranked this out in a couple of hours

hope you enjoy

revelation

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader

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muxshwriting · 2 months ago

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revelation

charles leclerc x reader

summary: it could never work again. could it? you don't know unless you try || warnings: mental health, angst, fluff || word count: 895 || masterlist

part one to this: doomsday

REQUEST: hii! i loved doomsday!!! would you consider a part 2?

You stayed at the hospital until Pascale arrived, gently excusing yourself. You can't escape the fearsome hug Pascale pulls you into, whispering how grateful she was that you had come at all and how she missed your weekly coffee dates. The woman had been so kind to you during your relationship with Charles, meeting you every week for a girls day where you could forget how rocky things had become.

Charles was discharged a day later, a little quieter, a little more strained, Pascale had texted you. You hadn't asked her to but were thankful for the update, the knowledge that he was doing better.

One of the F1 gossip columns had gotten a picture of Charles leaving the hospital, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, hands shoved deep into pockets and eyes tired. The discourse online all seemed to be as worried about Charles as you had been, finally seeing what you had said for months. But you didn't feel vindictive, or proud. It was simply sad.

Weeks passed without a call, without a text, without an update. You weren't sure what you were expecting, a thanks for coming to the hospital that you weren't entitled to. Maybe it didn't matter. You hadn't come back for him, you went because part of you always would have and because if you didn't, who would?

Then there's one night, without warning, where the doorbell of your apartment rings. You're not expecting anyone but having friends drop by isn't unheard of. You open the door just a fraction and it's Charles standing there, soaked to the core.

It's been raining, his hair sticking to his forehead like in all the movies. But his eyes, they look far more miserbale than you'd ever seen them.

"Charles?"

"I shouldn't be here." He says quickly. "I know I shouldn't be here but can you hear me out? Please?"

For a moment you think about saying no, shutting the door, being sane and moving on entirely, not being dragged back to that part of your life. But instead, you take one look at Charles and step aside, "Come in, I don't want you to get pneumonia."

He walks in silently, water dripping from his coat. He glances around the living room like it's a stranger to him, like it wasn't once half his. He notices the empty vase on the sidebard where flowers from him always used to stand. Now it collected dust and just looked sad.

You bustle through the closet in your bedroom, coming back with a towel for Charles that he doesn't immediately use. It's clutched in his hands, knuckles turining white when he rfinally wipes his face from rain.

"I lost you because I was trying not to lose everything else." He finally says, voice low and quiet. "In the end I just lost everything."

You wait for him to keep going, seeing the desire on his face.

Charles looked down at the towel, then back up at you. "I stepped away." His voice shook slightly. "After the hospital, I… I pulled out of every media commitment. I stopped doing double training sessions. I fought the team when they tried to push. I started seeing someone. A doctor." He forced a small, almost broken laugh. "For therapy. For everything."

You blinked, stunned by the admission.

"I didn’t know how to stop," he said. "Until you left. And then it all caught up to me. And I realized… I was doing it for the wrong reasons. Not because I loved it. Because I thought I had to earn it every second. Prove I was worth something."

The tears burning in your eyes weren’t fair, you decided. They weren’t fair at all.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," His voice cracked slightly. "I don't ever expect that but I owe you the fact that I'm trying to be better. I'm trying to be the man you saw in me."

You exhaled slowly. A shaky breath that sounded too much like relief. "I never wanted you to change who you were, Char," you whispered. "I just wanted you to live."

The room was so silent you could pick out the individual raindrops hitting the glass windows. You stare at the man in front of you, the broken but beautiful boy who had finally seen what you'd been begging him to see for so long.

You reach forward to wipe a raindrop from his cheek, or is it a tear? He leans into your touch like he hasn't felt touch for years, like a man starved.

"What if we try something new?" You ask tentatively and see him perk up. "We can't go back, so we make something else, something better?"

He nods, quickly, desperately, "Anything. Anything you'll give me. And I'll give you every-"

"No." The remark is short and sharp and you see Charles recoil slightly. "You don't have to give me everything, just give me you. Keep everything for yourself."

He swallows, hard. "We figure it out. Together."

"We start slow, we see where it goes."

For the first time in a while, Charles smiles. Then, through the cracks, soft and a little tired, you smile too.

Maybe the love you share wasn't about saving someone, but choosing them again once they learned to save themselves. And this time, no one would need saving, so you could just choose.

feel free to send in a request xx

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #muxshwriting #muxsh #formula one

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muxshwriting · 2 months ago

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doomsday

Charles Leclerc x reader

summary: charles has always put others before himself, but you can’t keep watching as he pushes himself too far for people that don’t even care || warnings: charles is too selfless, injuries, overexertion, yelling, arguments, possible ending of relationship, mentions of death, grief, hospitals || word count: 1708 || masterlist

Charles was always passionate about his work. Formula One had been the only dream he had ever had. And now he was here, there was nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice to stay.

He’s a very empathetic person, always wanting to help others and putting them ahead of himself on occasion. But more and more, he was sacrificing his own well-being for other people.

It killed you to watch Charles work himself to the bone, pushing during training sessions, attending more media opportunities, staying late for meetings and cutting every corner to brake later than all the other drivers. There was a sinking feeling in your chest every time you got the text of I’ll be home late.

One night, a night he comes home from the factory late, you’re waiting up in the living room for him. He walks through the door, exhaustion written on his face as he runs a hand down it.

He catches your eye and does a double take, not expecting you to still be awake. “Why are you still up?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I never can when you’re not home.” It’s the truth, a fitful rest is the best you can get when the other side of the bed is cold.

He stops in front of you, pulling you to your feet.

“I’ll always love you Charles. But I cannot keep watching you do this to yourself.”

“Baby, I’m sorry.”

“The late nights don’t do anyone any good.” You try to reason.

“I’m trying.” He replies. “I’m trying but when I can give more, I do. If I can, why wouldn’t I?”

Slowly you shake your head. “You can’t give them everything and leave nothing for yourself. I won’t stay to see you do this.”

“I’m not giving them everything. I have you, don’t I? I’ve got to save something for my love.” He’s trying to sweet talk you and it’s working before you can think to the opposite.

“I love you.” You whisper to him. “But something’s got to change Charles. You can’t keep living like this.”

“I love you too and I won’t. I promise.”

You go to bed with the slimming hope that something will change for the better. But that slim chance only gets smaller as the weeks wane on and nothing seems to change. You have no idea if Charles even tried to cut back his work because it seemed like he didn’t even attempt to. You feel like you’re tearing your hair out just trying to make him understand what you’re seeing. He’s going to kill himself if he keeps going at the rate he is now. And you refuse to stick around and watch him.

“Charles!” The argument started from nothing, a slip of words that sent the annoyance of the past months straight to your soul. “I’m going to be planning a fucking funeral. Tell me, what flowers do you want to be buried with?” You’re making no sense as the argument only gets worse, coming out shouting.

Charles frowns, standing to meet you. “What are you even talking about right now?”

“You’re going to die!” The words tumble out as you yell, trying to get him to understand what you’re seeing. “You’re going to die in that stupid car trying to satisfy everybody else.”

Charles stares at you in silence. There’s no way to know what he’s thinking and you’re not sure you want to know. “…I can’t do this. Not now. I have-“

“You have work, right?” You finish his sentence for him, but your tone is defeated. There doesn’t seem to be a way to get through to him, there is no fighting this.

The anger inside him returns and something snaps. “You have no idea what kind of pressure I am under. I am representing a team that has traditions nothing can change. There are practically two countries breathing down my neck at all times, watching my every move. I have millions of fans critiquing me at every step and you want me to put myself first? I am a man, who is part of something so much bigger than myself. If I put myself first I would never have got into a kart. Is this what you want me to say?”

“Yes!” You shout back to him. “Please! Be angry. Be angry with me if you have to. Anything is better than the monotony you come home with, the lack of anything because it’s all been leached from you.”

“I can’t keep doing this.” He confesses.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“No.” He says sternly. “This-“ He motions between the two of you. “This isn’t working. I can’t keep coming home to someone who doesn’t understand my life.”

Part of you knew this was coming, part of you thought you should’ve done it months ago. But mostly, you just knew it was inevitable. But hey, at least you wouldn’t have to plan the funeral now. Maybe Charles would find time in between all his work to plan his own.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You’re defeated. There’s no fight left. “You’re right. This isn't working. I’ll be back for my things tomorrow. Goodbye Charles.”

He frowns at you, surprised you aren’t fighting him back anymore. He was expecting you to keep pushing him to be better, to be there for you instead of for his team and his work. For him, there was no choice, there couldn’t be. But for you, once, he would have thrown everything away. This is it.

You have no words for him, turning to grab the most important things and leaving for a friends house. You have to move on from him now, it’s all over.

You’ve casted Charles out of your mind and rather hypocritically, thrown yourself back into your work. But it’s never to a point where you have nothing left for yourself, you have to protect what you have. It’s been months, you don’t follow anything from that world anymore.

Then the phone rings.

“Hello? Is this Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yes… this is she.” You tentatively answer. It’s a voice you don’t recognise from an unknown number.

“Hello. I’m calling from the Princess Grace Hospital. You’re listed as the emergency contact for Charles Leclerc. Are you available to talk right now?”

You’ve risen from your couch, slightly in shock as you move to get ready to leave. “Yes. What’s going on?”

“Can you come to the hospital? Mr Leclerc was brought in unconscious and we’re still carrying out tests and examinations.”

“Yes. Yes. I can be there in fifteen minutes?” You’re mind stutters out a response as you’re already moving out of the front door. Why did Charles still have you saved as his emergency contact? Was he alright? What the hell had happened?

When you reach the hospital desk, they lead you up to Charles’ room and leave you at the door. He was brought in after a neighbour heard a crash. He was unconscious, probably dehydrated and over exerted himself to the point of exhaustion. They were doing the best they could for him, mainly just letting his rest and recuperate his strength.

Silently, you slip into the room and take a seat by his bedside, interlacing your fingers with his. His skin is colder than you remember, more lines etched on his forehead and a dullness there never was before. He looks tired, really tired. You fire up your phone again, pulling up Pascale’s number.

“Pascale?”

“Y/N? Is everything alright?”

“The hospital called me. Charles fainted at home, he got brought in but he’s okay, i think. I was listed as his emergency contact but I can send you all the details for where he is.”

“What- Oh my- Please, yes please. He’s okay?”

“He’s just resting. I’m with him now, he’s asleep but he seems alright. The doctor said he didn’t hit his head when he fell, so there shouldn’t be any be anything to worry about.”

“I’m on my way.”

As soon as you hang up the call, Charles’ fingers twitch within yours. Your attention snaps to him as the almost permanent frown returns to his brows.

“Charles?”

Charles thinks he must be dreaming. You’re hear, beside him. Except you left him, he’s lost count of how many months ago it was. But you left and he’d regretted it ever since. Perhaps he could stay in this blissful moment for a while, imagining you were still here, that you were actually beside him.

“Charles? Are you awake?”

He groans. His brain really wanted to make it seem real today.

“How are you feeling?”

His eyes blink open, squinting in the harsh light. There’s a weight on one of his hands and two smells, one clinical and one oddly familiar. His head turns to the side and a mirage of you appears. You’re covered in a concerned look, staring down at him as he comes back to reality. You are there, truly. But he’s not at home. He’s at the hospital.

You’re holding out a glass of water to him, helping him sit upright as his senses return. He misses the weight of your hands in his and he’s half tempted to reach back for it again. “How are you feeling?”

“You’re here.” His voice sounds dead, even to him, and it isn’t just because he just woke up.

“I’m your emergency contact…” You explain. “I called your mother, she’s on her way.”

Charles sighs, a heavy sigh that someone would give after 50 years of work, when your back aches and your muscles shake. Why is he so tired? It’s the first time he’s stopped in months, is it all finally catching up to him?

“You were right.” He whispers the confession, like it’s a secret but anyone with eyes could see it. “You were always right.”

You smile, a sad sort of smile because you knew you were. It just took him landing in the hospital for him to agree. Despite the admission, you know that he doesn’t understand the extent of the truth. He’s too selfless, feels to much guilt to give himself what he truly needs. You got out while you could, but at least you mourned someone who was alive, rather than someone that was dead.

part two for this: revelation

feel free to send in a request xx

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #muxsh #muxshwriting

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muxshwriting · 2 months ago

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Hi! I have a request. Can you please write something Leto Atreides x reader casual and intimate in their bed chambers. It's their early years of marriage, Paul is not born yet. They are trying to get used to each other.

it’s here!!!

in the quiet

#muxsh #muxshwriting #dune #dune part two #leto atreides x reader #leto atreides #dune part 2 #dune x reader

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muxshwriting · 2 months ago

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in the quiet

Leto Atreides x reader

summary: the first years after your marriage, life for you and Leto could not be more blissful || word count: 568 || masterlist

REQUESTED BY @asherlockfandom : Can you please write something Leto Atreides x reader casual and intimate in their bed chambers. It's their early years of marriage, Paul is not born yet. They are trying to get used to each other.

Early mornings are always quiet in Caladan, a cooling breeze sweeps along the coast, the sea whispering its rhythm against the cliffs, and the sun slowly rises over the horizon. It was a pure moment, not yet disturbed by the days agenda of meetings and politics.

You're lying in bed, wrapped up in sheets with Leto’s arms thrown across you. The only sound was the gentle rustle of sheets and the steady breathing of the man beside you. You lay still, wrapped in the cocoon of linen and warmth. His bare chest pressed softly against your back, the heat of him anchoring you more than the mattress ever could.

“Good morning.” His voice in the morning is dripping with sleep.

“Good morning.” You reply, letting your hand fall to his hair and raking your fingers through.

Leto groaned, relaxing even further as his eyes slipped shut once more. “God I love you.”

“I should hope so,” you whisper, teasing him. “You did marry me.”

A chuckle vibrated low in his throat. “And I am grateful every single day.”

Leto was a busy man, burdened by legacy, always thinking ahead, always carrying the weight of something larger than himself. But when he was sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless and barefoot, he was just a man. His mere presence warmed the room more than any fire could.

He caught you staring at him, enamoured by his very being. There was no greater joy in your life than being married to this man. “Like what you see?” he asked slyly, staring back at you with just as much desire.

“Oh, I love what I see.” You stand, walking over to him and placing a hand in his. He let his breath fade over your face, mere millimetres away.

He kissed your wrist first, then your collarbone, moving slow like he was learning your language with touch instead of words. You responded in kind, fingers weaving into his hair, your breath catching as the distance between you vanished.

He didn’t speak, didn’t need to. His hands traced the path his mouth didn’t take, a worshipful kind of gentleness in every movement. You responded in kind, your fingers finding their place in his hair, pulling him just a little closer, grounding the both of you.

When you tumbled back into bed, tangled once more in each other, the sheets twisted around your limbs like they too couldn’t bear to separate you.

Your head rested on his chest, the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear, calming and sure.

Leto whispered, “I want to be worthy of you. Not just as your husband, but as your home.”

You smiled, eyes drifting shut. “Then we’ll build that home together.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then softly said, “Maybe with a few children of our own.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, and found his eyes already on you. There was a vulnerability in them, something fragile behind all the strength. “Our own family.” You agree, pressing a kiss just above his heart.

Leto exhaled like he’d been holding the thought in for far too long. He held you tighter then, pressing a kiss to your temple. The day would come soon enough, bringing its duties and diplomacy. But for now, there was only this: the two of you, the sunrise, and a promise whispered against skin.

#leto atreides x reader #leto atreides #oscar isaac #dune part 2 #dune part two #dune x reader #dune #muxsh #muxshwriting

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muxshwriting · 3 months ago

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sewn together

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: there was an expectation for a viscountess to become a mother within a year of her marriage. but not everything can be perfect || warnings: struggles with infertility, mentions of miscarriages, heartbreak, breakdowns, period typical sexism, ANGST, pregnancy || word count: 1189 || masterlist

this fic covers some very serious topics. please read the warnings carefully and do not read if anything in them triggers you. take care of yourself x

It began as an arranged marriage, birthed from a friendship between your two mothers. But that did not mean there was no space for love and adoration within it.

Anthony comes down stairs one morning to you sitting with Hyacinth on your lap in front of the pianoforte. She’s far too old to be sitting on your lap but you cradle her so gently, your hands over hers as you share the instrument. There’s a softness in your gaze and the way you murmur to her.

In that moment, something clicks. Perhaps it’s the culmination of things that have been occurring for weeks. But he sees you in a way he’d never seen anyone before, with pure unadulterated love. He knows in that moment that his marriage was always meant for more and it needs to mean more if he is to survive another day.

He makes his way over, pressing a good morning kiss into your hair and wishing his sister a good morning. Hyacinth jumped down from your lap and let her attention wander elsewhere but yours remained on her, watching her wistfully.

You could not wait to have children of your own, to cherish them in the way your mother had cherished you. You wanted that for yourself, a child that was yours before they were anyone else’s, even Anthony’s.

Part of you understood the pressure that was placed upon you the moment you said I do in the chapel but the true pressure was felt when the questions began. It was mere months into your union that the question of future children kept cropping up in conversation. Anthony would laugh it off, shutting his mother’s questions down simply and cradling you at night.

It wasn’t for lack of trying either, you and Anthony were in love and enjoyed your youthful love at every opportunity, but nothing seemed to happen. There was no denying the tugging on your heart every month when you’d wake up to bloodied sheets and the confirmation that you weren’t so lucky.

Anthony woke one morning to your silent cries as you sat curled into yourself. Why couldn’t you just do this for him? You were a dutiful wife, why couldn’t you do your duty and provide him an heir?

“I’m so sorry Anthony.”

His concern was palpable. “What for, my love?” You motioned around you, clutching your arms around your midriff and trying not to sob harder. “Oh. Do not fret my love. It’s alright.”

“You need an heir.” You tell him through tears.

Anthony reaches over to hold you in his arms, you practically sitting in his lap. “I have brothers, do not fret yourself.”

“But-“

“I would love to have children with you.” Anthony explains. “But if it is not to be, we shall have a myriad of nieces and nephews to spoil, yes?”

Seeing his point didn’t mean it stung any less. “Yes…”

“If it happens, it happens.”

He holds you until you slip back into sleep and you find yourself more and more grateful for such an amazing husband. If it were to happen, it would be the happiest moment of your life. But if it weren’t, you would live on. There would be another chance at a family, with Anthony’s siblings, your new siblings.

Time continues, life wears on and you try not to burden yourself with moral responsibility beyond your control. Your doubt trickles away and then it’s been almost a year since you married. A year of bliss.

“Are you feeling alright?” Anthony asks you one morning, a hand propping him up.

“Yes… do I not look alright?”

“It’s just-“ He seems nervous to say something. “By my memory, it’s been a few months…”

“A few months? Since wha-“ The revelation dawns on you like cold water in the morning. “Oh my god.”

“Do you think?”

“Oh my god! Anthony…”

He surges forward, capturing your lips with his and pulling you towards him. He pulls back, a look in his eyes only describable as pure love and tenderness. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You reply, settling into the space his body created for you.

Your heart positively sang in the weeks that followed and anyone could see the glow that you carried. There was no denying that your soul was truly fulfilled. This was all you wanted, a baby, a child that was yours and Anthony’s.

But not all things end the way you want them to and there has been a shadow that’s haunted your world for far too long.

You’re just lying in bed one night, doing nothing to strain yourself. Anthony’s beside you, head buried in an accounts book he should’ve completed during the day. Then your perfect world comes crumbling down.

A debilitating pain ricochets through you, bringing your curling into yourself with a cry. Anthony’s by your side in an instant but as you feel the wetness of blood between your thighs, you can’t deny the truth. A million emotions hit you at once, and once one tear falls, the rest follow.

Breath comes out as pants as the pain doesn’t let up for a moment and Anthony knows. Your scream echo in the small room and he knows. All he can do is hold you close, whispering words that have no meaning in this moment and try to make it all okay. But it never will be.

That child, your child, was your shot at happiness, a fulfilment unattainable by another metric. Now, you would have nothing to hold, nothing to raise. Your child was gone, before they could even be born into life.

The doubt creeped back in but there was a resignation in your mind that told you that you would never be a mother. You weren’t worthy. You weren’t deserving of a child of your own. There is no way to convince yourself that this was your destiny when it has been your desire since you were a young girl.

You feel society’s eyes on you at every function, even if no one is looking at you. And you can’t hold in the almost nightly tears that come. Perhaps the pain will lessen, but you’re not sure you want it to. Lessening would also mean forgetting the child that never was. Anthony feels the same pain as you, going about his day with a heaviness of a man far older than his years.

But what can you do? There is nothing except letting time pass, letting it wash over you and pull you along its tide.

You lock the part of you that craves a child away, into the deepest corners of your shadowed soul. You lock it all away and let it go. To survive, you have to let yourself enjoy life outside of children, let the baby rest and find peace wherever they are.

Years later, you never forgot your firstborn, even as you lay exhausted and sweaty in the birthing bed, cradling your eldest son in your arms. Anthony looks on with pride, seeing your dreams come to life and finally being able to hold his whole world in his arms.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #muxsh #muxshwriting

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