meg

19 || she/her || REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND WELCOME || cymru am byth 🏳️‍🌈

[muxshwriting]

muxsh's mixtape

now playing: 𝄞 dan - noah kahan

02:17 ━━━━━━━━━●────────── 05:06

requests are OPEN || want to know who I write for? click here

I also post full fanfic novels on wattpad with my oc s. check that out here

find a full fanfiction universe with ocs set in the heated rivalry universe HERE (@emmy-hollz)

★ BRIDGERTON

★ GRISHAVERSE

★ TOP GUN

★ FORMULA ONE

★ HEATED RIVALRY

★ DUNE

★ WIZARDING WORLD

★ PJO

seeing red (luke castellan x reader)

while fighting monsters, something snaps and luke is the only one to break through and bring you back

stains you can't wash out (luke castellan x reader)

you’ve always stood by luke’s side, through bad and good. but there’s one time being by luke’s side was the worst thing you could do.

sinking loneliness (luke castellan x reader)

you can’t help but feel lonely in camp half blood. despite being surrounded by your siblings and other demigods, you feel forgotten and alone in a world you don’t have much hope in or for

hold me steady (luke castellan x reader)

you get hurt and luke doesn't know what to do. what can he do except watch and wait while others are able to help you?

★ TWILIGHT

in the woods somewhere (jasper whitlock x reader)

when the Major comes out to play, you have to run and hope he doesn't find you

alone together (seth clearwater x reader)

your boyfriend doesn't realise his own strength. it doesn't usually bother you until you realise that he's leaving something more permanent with his hugs

a different version (seth clearwater x reader)

a quiet beach boy, a few unshared details, an ancient rivalry and the reveal of all things

for always (seth clearwater x reader)

seth pulled away, but you can't go without your best friend for that long so it's only a matter of time before all is revealed

★ STAR WARS

slipping through my fingers (obi-wan kenobi x padawan!reader)

Obi-Wan has to let go of his padawan as she grows up and out of his protection and teachings

empire now (ben solo x reader)

you’ve spent every day since the temple attack searching for Ben Solo. he disappeared that night, no body found, no trace

talk (anakin skywalker x reader) [eurydiceandorpheus!au]

the greatest love story ever told, that's simultaneously the most tragic

★ MC(E)U

jackie and wilson (matt murdock x reader)

Matt and you get drunk which leads to the contemplation of future life decisions

swan upon leda (daniel sousa x reader)

you would wait years for him and he would do the same for you

devil town (erik lehnsherr x daughter!reader)

Erik didn't realise he was a father, but as soon as he did, he became the best one

waiting for the end (charles xavier x reader)

you're seeing him in stranger's faces despite not even knowing his face, there’s just a tingle in your mind that says you do (or at least did)

★ OTHER

from eden (will graham x sister!reader)

Will tries to protect his sister from himself and his life, only to push her even closer to it

in a week (finnick odair x reader)

nothing calms Finnick like the feeling of your hand in his

like real people do (spencer reid x reader)

an undercover mission reveal some deep secrets between the two of you

angel of small death and the codeine scene (rebekah mikaelson x reader)

Rebekah was like the drug you couldn't resist. There was only her and to her, there was only you

if you want, send me an ask, comment or a dm. any feedback is greatly appreciated xx

[muxshwriting]

for all time

roselana x reader, rose landry x reader, svetlana vetrova x reader, rose landry x svetlana vetrova

summary: you’re confused, rose and svetlana in front of you at the same time. but who’s telling you that you have to choose? certainly not them || word count: 1.2k || masterlist

series masterlist < pt. 1 -> pt. 2 -> pt. 3 -> pt. 4 -> pt. 5 >

“What’s going on?”

Svetlana and Rose had spent the first five minutes in each other’s company gazing at one another, their conversation happening as if you weren’t even there. You had hardly heard their words, caught the polite exchanging of greetings and small talk before it turned into something Sveta was far more familiar with, flirting.

You stood stranded in the still open doorway of your own apartment, pulse refusing to settle from kissing Rose, then from opening the door and seeing Sveta again, then from the way the two women seem far too calm about it all and that they seem to like each other?

Rose glances over, her mouth twitching, “You look like you’re going to faint.”

Honestly, you feel far too close to it.

Svetlana tears her eyes from Rose to you, frown deepening. “Malyshka, you are pale.”

“Can someone explain why this feels like I’m being psychologically tortured? Am I in a nightmare all of a sudden?” You could feel your breathing quicken, the panic rising higher and higher and tightening in a not-so-comforting weight around your chest.

“She kissed you.” Svetlana says it plainly, eyes fixed on Rose. “And you kissed her back.”

Your face burns immediately. “Sveta-“

Rose straightens slightly, eyes seeking yours, one hand reaching to hold yours and the other reaching back to hold Svetlana’s. “It’s not a problem.” She speaks your name so softly you almost don’t recognise it. “It’s okay, you don’t have to panic, just breathe.”

The room goes quiet. You brace yourself for the jealousy, for Svetlana to shut down entirely the way she always did when emotions got too close to the surface. Instead, she studies Rose with unnerving calm.

“You assume something we did not say.”

You frown, still not understanding, “Which is?”

“That you have to choose.”

Svetlana stands near your dining table in all black and gold and sharp edges, composed in the way that always drew you in despite yourself. Rose stands barefoot in your kitchen wearing one of your old hoodies, soft around the edges, looking at you like she’s trying not to hope for something.

They are so painfully different and somehow, standing here together, they fit. It’s worse than if they hated each other because there’s something else underneath all of this now. It’s curious. It’s a magnetic force pushing and pulling you close and closer until you’re stuck.

Svetlana stepped further into the apartment, resting one shoulder against the counter opposite Rose like they’d unconsciously mirrored each other. “You look at us like we are ultimatum.”

“Who taught you that word?”

“You are beautiful,” Svetlana interrupts simply, like it’s fact. “People will want you.”

Rose’s eyes flick between the two of you carefully, like she’s stepped into a conversation with subtitles missing.

“Is it so surprising that both of us do?”

Your head remains reeling, the feelings only growing and the panic staying right where it landed.

“Malyshka…”

“You should hate each other.” You whisper.

Rose clears her throat. “Would that make this easier?”

“Oh my god,” there’s no other words you can conjure, nothing you can think to say all the thoughts swirling in your brain like a hurricane. “You like each other.”

Rose chokes at your starkness. Svetlana’s brows lift slightly, though she doesn’t look nearly as alarmed.

“You flirt terribly,” she tells Rose.

“You are literally the most intimidating woman I’ve ever met.”

“And yet you keep speaking.”

Rose opens her mouth, closes it again. You watch the flush spread slowly across her cheeks and realise with dawning horror that she’s not denying it. Rose points at Svetlana incredulously. “Have you looked at yourself?”

Svetlana was practically preening herself, smiling so sweetly at Rose, and then at you.

“Are we really going to do this?” Rose asks tentatively, stepping closer to both of you.

You hum, lips parting subconsciously as Svetlana also took another step forward. They’re in your space, they’re all over you, you can feel their breaths against your skin from a meter away, the thrum of your heart threatens to give you away, feeling ten times louder than its echo in your head.

“What’s stopping us?” Svetlana says it so easily, like it’s all normal and nothing is weird and nothing is strange and worst of all, like she’s done it before.

The panic you’d been feeling is suddenly replaced with doubt, the trepidation curling tighter until it can no longer be separated from want. Because you do want to kiss them both, that’s the horrifying part. And they’re telling you you don’t have to choose, they’re saying you can love them both the way they will love each other and you. But it’s new. And new is always scary.

You look between them helplessly, at Rose’s flushed cheeks and quiet hopefulness, at Sveta’s cool confidence masking the tension behind your decision. They wait for you.

“We’re really doing this?”

Svetlana scoffs lightly, “Do you not want to kiss us both?”

“No!-“ The denial comes out too quickly. “That came out wrong.”

Rose bites down on a smile. “A little.”

“I mean no, that’s not the issue.” You point vaguely between them. “The issue is that this is insane.”

Svetlana’s mouth curves slightly. “Most interesting things are.”

“That is not comforting.”

Rose steps closer first this time, careful enough that you could stop her if you wanted to. Her fingers brush yours again, tentative at first before threading properly through your hand when you don’t pull away. The contact steadies something in you immediately, grounding and warm.

Then Svetlana moves too. She stops directly in front of you, close enough that the familiar scent of her perfume wraps around your senses and drags up every memory you’ve spent months trying not to drown in.

“Malyshka,” she murmurs. “Look at me.” Her hand comes up slower than Rose’s had, giving you every opportunity to refuse. Fingertips brushing lightly against your jaw. “You think too much,” she says quietly.

“You don’t think enough.”

Rose snorts beside you. Svetlana ignores her completely. You glance toward her and find her already looking at you. Soft. Open. Terrified in the exact same way you are.

“What if this ruins everything?” you whisper.

Rose exhales slowly. “What if not trying ruins it more?”

Svetlana hums, already decided. “I am deciding to be brave.”

That catches you off guard enough that you stare at her. Brave. Not confident or fearless, or any of the things you’d assumed Sveta was. Rose seems equally affected by it because her expression softens immediately, shoulders dropping slightly like she’s seeing Svetlana clearly for the first time instead of just the impossible, untouchable model she’d built up in her head.

But warmth is blooming in your chest now despite yourself, overtaking the panic inch by inch.

Rose squeezes your hand once. “Can I kiss you again?”

Your breath catches, the feeling in your chest is indescribable.

Svetlana watches you carefully, expression unreadable but soft around the edges now. “And me?” she asks quietly.

Your eyes drift shut for half a second as you laugh breathlessly into the impossible.

“You are both going to kill me.”

Rose smiles first, bright and helpless and fond. Svetlana’s smile follows slower, but somehow even more devastating. “No,” she says softly. “I think maybe we are going to ruin you a little.”

[muxshwriting]

next time

roselana x reader, rose landry x reader, svetlana vetrova x reader, rose landry x svetlana vetrova

summary: svetlana returns just as you and rose realise there’s something hanging between you that you want to reach out and touch || word count: 1.7k || masterlist

series masterlist < pt. 1 -> pt. 2 -> pt. 3 -> pt. 4 -> pt. 5 >

You’re around Rose’s apartment in a brief break from filming for both of you, the time between projects where you’re not under deadlines or trying to learn lines for the next one.

“I met Svetlana at an event last month.”

Rose drops the bomb like it’s casual, like it’s calm and collected and not at all groundbreaking and sending your heart pattering in your chest and your mind spiralling downwards.

“Oh?” It comes out sounding far more confident and relaxed than you feel In the moment.

Rose leant back against her couch, relaxing. “At the gala I told you about? We were sat together and got to talking. I see why you like her.”

The present tense doesn’t fly over your head. It implants upon your skull and makes you feel dizzy and nauseous. Svetlana had been talking about you, to Rose. Rose had been talking about you, to Svetlana. It was too much to compute.

“Did- Did you like her?” You’re asking out of personal curiosity and a bit (a lot) of secret jealously, driven by the need to know and a desire for it to be true.

She thinks for a moment, considers the options and the look on your face, the hopefulness in your eyes. “She was very intense. I- I don’t really know what I like but she was nice enough.”

You take a chance, why not. “Maybe you need to get some experience, find out what you do and don’t like. Find out who you do and don’t like.”

The cryptic look on her face confuses you. It’s a mix of something you can’t quite recognise with questioning eyes and a small smile that is asking you to look deeper.

“Yeah.”

One word. Only a one-word answer to reply to your philosophical question that could’ve changed everything.

“Alright.”

Svetlana Vetrova returns to your life.

There’s no fanfare, no alarms that ring. But flowers. Your favourites, hand-delivered to your apartment in a vase that you immediately recognised because you bought it together on a trip to Milan. There’s no note, there never is with her.

Rose stares at the arrangement from where she’s sat at your kitchen island, coffee growing cold between her hands. You stare too.

“Well,” Rose says eventually, voice painfully light. “That’s ominous.”

You laugh, but it catches halfway out of your throat. Because of course Svetlana would do this. Disappear for months. Reappear without warning. Slot herself back into your life like she’d never left at all.

You hate how your pulse reacts to it. Rose notices, of course she notices.

“You gonna text her?” she asks carefully.

You don’t answer immediately. Your fingers trace the edge of the counter instead, eyes fixed stubbornly on the flowers like they might suddenly explain themselves. “I don’t know.”

And that’s the truth. Because things had become… complicated lately. Not with Svetlana. But with Rose.

It had happened slowly enough that neither of you could pinpoint where it started. Somewhere between late-night phone calls and shared drinks on balconies after events. Somewhere between Rose falling asleep against your shoulder during movie nights and the way you’d started looking for her first in crowded rooms.

Somewhere between almost: almost touching, almost saying something, almost noticing the way Rose looked at you until it became impossible not to.

The flowers sit between you both like a ghost.

Rose exhales quietly, setting her mug down. “She always liked dramatic gestures.”

You smile despite yourself. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I’m starting to.”

Your gaze flickers up to hers. There’s something strange in her expression. Not jealousy exactly. Not bitterness. Something sadder. More resigned, like she knows how it will all end and it won’t be in her favour.

You suddenly become hyperaware of how close she’s standing to you in the kitchen. Of the sleeve of her sweater brushing your arm. Of the fact that Rose has started feeling terrifyingly easy to be around. Dangerously easy.

“She came back fast,” Rose murmurs.

“She’s just trying her luck.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The air feels thick suddenly. Rose looks down at the flowers again before speaking, quieter this time. “Do you still love her?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Because the answer is yes. But it’s also complicated now in ways it never used to be. Because another question has started existing underneath it. A worse question. One you’ve been trying very hard not to touch.

Can you love someone and still want someone else?

You shouldn’t pursue Rose, she hasn’t had experience with female attraction, it wouldn’t be fair. Or would it be fair? To show her all it can be before her view is tainted by a rubbish girlfriend who won’t take care of her the way you can.

Rose watches your silence unfold in real time.

Something flickers across her face before she smooths it away with practiced ease, actress-perfect. “That’s okay,” she says quickly, too quickly. “You don’t have to answer that.”

But you want to. You want to answer honestly. You want to say yes, I love her. I probably always will. You want to say but lately I think about you too much. You should say it all.

Instead, you whisper, “Rose…”

Her eyes lift to yours instantly. And there it is again. That thing between you, that neither of you has touched yet because touching it would make it real. There’s the same thought in your mind that you should reach out before it disappears forever.

Rose has been begging for the change since she came to you the night her and Shane broke up, the night where you showed her what her life could be if she branches out all what and who she could love.

Her eyes cast down to your lips, your eyes doing the exact same thing.

The space between gets smaller and smaller until there’s nothing left to say, only feelings that you don’t want to go away and you wish would stay forever. Svetlana is the furthest thing from your mind as the heat from her skin burns into yours, a reminder of what was right in front of you.

“Rose,” your voice comes out low, a warning before you give up on thought. “Are you-“

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Her response doesn’t even have time to leave her lips before you’re diving the short distance forward and pressing against her. It’s a softness you should’ve expected, a perfection you’d always noticed.

Best of all, you slot together like you were made, lips brushing against lips and your tongue diving forward into her mouth. Rose lets out a whining sound, a breathy response as her hands dance out and land along your sides, wrapping around and holding on tight.

She pulls back for air, her mouth opening to say something when a sharp knock cuts through the apartment before either of you can move.

“Ignore it.” You immediately respond, your own hand moving to cradle her face and bring her eyes back to you.

Another knock follows, firmer this time. It’s almost familiar, the pattern and the pressure ingrained into your brain. You recognise it for who it is just as Rose looks at the door and back at you.

“You should answer that.”

Your heart drops.

It feels like a rock falling off a cliff and the hands wrapped around your waist retract and pull backwards. Rose doesn’t even look wounded, that’s the worst thing, she looks resigned with a spark of hopefulness in the depths of her eyes.

You stand too quickly, your pulse soaring, loud enough that you barely hear your own footsteps crossing the apartment. And as you slip the door open, Svetlana Vetrova stands on the other side looking devastating.

Dark coat. Dark eyes. Gold jewellery glinting softly beneath the hallway light. She looks like she’s stepped out of one of her campaigns and directly into your fucking bloodstream.

But it’s the expression on her face that undoes you, because she looks nervous. You know the slight tension in her jaw. The stiffness in her shoulders. The way her hands flex once at her sides before stilling.

Her gaze lands on you first and softens immediately, then shifts past your shoulder. To Rose.

Both your lips and still swollen, faces flushing red and only growing warmer at the feeling of being observed. Something unreadable flashes across her face, taking in the sight before her.

Rose stands slowly from the kitchen island, suddenly looking very aware of herself. Her sweater hanging off one shoulder because she slept here after too much wine and too many almost-confessions neither of you finished. Her hair is mused from where her hand had dragged through it, chest heaving with breathes she hadn’t caught up on.

Svetlana takes all of it in within seconds. “Did you get my flowers?”

You blink once, and pause before you answer, unsure of exactly why she’s here. “Yes.”

Rose makes a strangled noise somewhere behind you, like she cannot believe this conversation is real. Svetlana’s gaze flicks toward her briefly again before returning to you with laser focus.

“I did not realise you had company.”

You close your eyes for half a second because of course this would happen now. Of course the universe would choose this exact moment to become unbearable.

Rose’s gaze sharpens, “Am I unwelcome now?”

Svetlana steps inside without waiting to be invited, Rose watches her like she’s tracking a predator, Svetlana watches her back with equal intensity and you watch the whole interaction like a stalker, admiring, observing.

“No.” Svetlana smiles, a genuine one, the one that makes Rose feel warm and loved and- “It’s nice to see you again Rose Landry.”

“Svetlana.”

You stand in the middle of them with your heart threatening to claw its way out of your chest because for the first time since the breakup, since Rose, since all of this mess started unravelling, you realise you can’t choose what you want anymore.

And that is far more terrifying than losing either of them.

[muxshwriting]

another time

rose landry x svetlana vetrova, rose landry x reader (mentioned), svetlana vetrova x reader (mentioned)

summary: svetlana and rose meet at an event and realise they have far more in common than just the jealousy they feel for the other || word count: 1.5k || masterlist

series masterlist <pt.1 -> pt. 2 -> pt. 3 -> pt.4 >

“Rose Landry.”

Rose had to admit that her name sounded far more attractive from the Russian’s mouth. Then she turned and was met face-to-face with Svetlana Vetrova and reminded exactly why she should always look twice before she comments on situations.

“Svetlana Vetrova.”

Svetlana doesn’t smile at her, not really. There’s a slight curve to her lips, a sparkle in the corners of her eyes as she looks at Rose. She’s not known for smiling, that’s why she’s such a serious model for the runway. But at events like this she can hold a passable curve that passes for polite.

Rose recognises it for what it is, though. It’s a controlled expression that gives away nothing while pretending to give everything.

But what’s worse, is that up close and personal Svetlana is beautiful.

With Rose’s recent discovery, she’d been thinking and accepting far more than she had ever felt before and let herself understand what it all meant. She’d seen the campaigns, the runways, the magazine stills. She’d seen it all and none of it could compare to how absolutely stunning Svetlana Vetrova was in person.

It was infuriating.

And maybe a little bit dizzying. There was an intenseness in the way she existed in front of the camera and in front of the eyes, like she was made to be gazed upon, made to be admired and worshiped and-

Rose was getting off the point.

The point was that Sveta had broken your heart, almost the same way you’d broken hers, but Rose was loyal to your and your friendship and she cared about keeping you safe. Especially from the siren call of your lost love.

“Did not think you would come tonight.” Svetlana begins, voice smooth and accent curling around the words in a way that makes them feel heavier than they should. They bleed into Rose’s ears like treacle, tempting her to give in and submit to whatever Svetlana wants.

Rose, instead, lifts a shoulder and matches her casual tone, “It’s an industry event. I was invited.”

The Russian’s gaze drifts over her, slow, assessing. It rakes across her dress, settling along her figure. It’s not unkind. It’s almost… admiring. “Yes you do.”

There’s something in the way she says it that makes Rose feel like she’s being sized up for more than just a red carpet. The event hums around them, low music, clinking glasses, voices layered over one another, but it feels distant. Like everything has narrowed down to this one conversation neither of them had planned to have.

“You are friend of hers,” Svetlana continues.

Rose doesn’t flinch. “Yeah.”

Her eyes narrow, staring back. “Close friend.”

This is a question. Even if it doesn’t sound like one.

Rose meets her gaze, steady. “Yes.”

There’s something that flickers across Svetlana’s face then. It was quick, something not dissimilar to irritation, or curiosity, something a little bit in between.

“She used to talk about you.” She says after a moment.

Rose feels her stomach twist before she can stop it. “She did?”

Svetlana nods once, only once. “You were… important. She liked you.”

The words land strangely. It’s not covered in warmth or softness or care, like you would’ve said them. It’s just plain facts.

Rose exhales a quiet breath, willing her legs to keep her upright and crossing her arms loosely like it might anchor her in place. “You sound like you don’t like me because of that.”

Svetlana tilts her head slightly, studying her. “I do not sound like anything.”

That almost makes Rose laugh. “Right,” she mutters. “Of course you don’t.”

A staffer passes between them and for a second it breaks the tension, glasses offered, both of them taking one out of habit more than anything else. When the space clears again, they’re still standing there, still looking at each other.

“You are actress,” Svetlana says, like she’s ticking boxes in her head.

“Last I checked.”

“And model,” she adds.

Rose nods. “Sometimes.”

Svetlana hums again, taking a slow sip of her drink. “She likes that.”

Rose’s brows pull together slightly. “Likes what?”

“The way you move,” Svetlana says simply. “The way you are on camera. She said it is… easy for you.”

She shouldn’t care. Rose tells herself not to care, not to think about it, not to personalise the words and take them to heart. But there’s something about leaning and hearing your descriptions of her through Svetlana, filtered through her voice, that does something.

“She watches your work,” Svetlana adds, almost as an afterthought.

Rose lets out a small, disbelieving laugh and settles to tell herself that Svetlana is making fun of her. “Shut up.”

“I do not joke.” She insists. “I tell you the truth, she used to drag me to watch a new movie of yours.”

The conversation almost feels like two co-parents comparing what their child had done since they last saw them. It felt like a shared space between Rose and Svetlana, of them sharing you.

Rose shifts her weight slightly, glass clinking faintly in her hand. “You don’t seem like the type to sit around watching films.”

Svetlana’s lips twitch, just barely. “I do not.”

“Then why do you know so much about it?”

Sveta doesn’t really have an answer to that, just a rueful look as she moves to walk away. It tears a hole in-

Rose won’t let her. She follows the model as she weaves through the crowd to fins their seats inside. She already knows that her and Svetlana are sat beside one another, her assistant had warned her of her neighbours before she came in.

Sveta sighed as she saw Rose following her, then seemed to give up and turn back to continue their conversation.

“She cared about it.”

Oh.

Rose looks away for a second, jaw tightening before she can stop it. There’s something almost cruel about how simple that answer is. Of course she would know. Of course she would pay attention.

Of course Svetlana Vetrova, perfect Svetlana Vetrova, could still recall what you cared about despite not being together for months.

“She talked about you too, you know,” Rose says after a moment, glancing back at her. “When you were together.”

Svetlana’s gaze sharpens slightly. “Yes?”

“Yeah.” Rose nods. “Not in detail. Not… like that. But-” she shrugs. “You came up.”

“What did she say?” There’s something different in Svetlana’s tone now. Still controlled, still even, but there’s an edge under it. Something that sounds a little too much like wanting.

Rose hesitates. Because the truth is messy. Because the truth sounds a lot like she didn’t know how to love you the way you wanted and she never stopped anyway. Instead, she settles on something safer.

“That you were hard to read,” Rose says.

Svetlana lets out a quiet breath that might be a laugh. “That is not new.”

“And that she loved you,” Rose adds, before she can stop herself.

This time, there’s no hiding it. Svetlana goes very still, the noise of the room seems to drop out completely, like someone’s turned the volume down on the world around them.

For a second, Rose sees it. The crack. It’s small and controlled but there, breaking apart what Svetlana had been telling herself to forget or ignore.

“She did not say that.” Svetlana replies flatly. There’s no emotion behind it, or more accurately, there’s all the emotions she can’t truly convey. It’s a quiet declaration, less certain than what she’d always assumed before.

Rose holds her gaze, “She said it more ways than one.”

They’re not circling each other anymore, not standing in opposition. They’re standing in the same space, looking at the same thing from different angles.

The realisation that they’re not all that different terrifies both women because it goes against most of what they’ve been told to feel and think. Rose had already dismantled so much of her heart to open it further and Svetlana had learned never to be scared of what or who she was.

“You think you know her,” Svetlana says slowly, it’s almost asked as a question but there’s an underlying threat through it.

Rose takes initiative and steps even closer. “I think I know enough.”

Svetlana studies her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes.

“I think,” she says carefully, “you know what she shows you.”

Rose huffs a quiet laugh. “And you don’t?”

Svetlana doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she takes another sip of her drink, gaze drifting somewhere just past Rose’s shoulder like she’s looking at something far more complicated than the woman standing in front of her.

“I know,” she says eventually, “what she does not say.”

Rose’s grip tightens slightly around her glass. “Yeah?” she murmurs. “And why is that?”

Svetlana narrows her eyes, “Because she is more like me than she wants to think. It’s why we work.”

“Worked.” Rose corrects before she can stop herself, then kicks internally for her comment.

The words settle like a challenge.

Svetlana rises to meet it, “Maybe she’s found someone else to work with, hm? Is that what you suggest Rose Landry?”

Rose throws caution to the wind and climbs even higher. “Maybe she’ll find someone. Maybe I’m looking for someone different, someone who works well with me.”

There’s even less space between them than before, the few inches of height difference forcing Rose to gaze upwards. She’s not complaining.

Svetlana smiles, a real smile this time, leaning down to whisper into her ear. “Maybe you’ve found it.”

[muxshwriting]

time and time again (series masterlist)

roselana x reader (rose landry x svetlana vetrova x reader)

<- main masterlist

<- heated rivalry masterlist

a/n: be aware, the timeline in this fic makes no sense whatsoever. just ignore it. please.

last time

you and sveta break up, and you both have to go and find other ways to get over your lost lover or do you?

this time

rose comes to you after a break up of her own, one that's made her rethink a couple of things and made you aware of certain others

another time  

svetlana and rose meet at an event and realise they have far more in common than just the jealousy they feel for the other

next time

svetlana returns just as you and rose realise there's something hanging between you that you want to reach out and touch

for all time

you’re confused, rose and svetlana in front of you at the same time. but who’s telling you that you have to choose? certainly not them

[muxshwriting]

this time

rose landry x reader, svetlana vetrova x reader (mentioned)

summary: rose comes to you after a break up of her own, one that’s made her rethink a couple of things and made you aware of certain others || warnings: slight internalised homophobia, lesbian awakenings, rose comes to her senses, yearning, alcohol || word count: 1.85k || masterlist

series masterlist < pt. 1 -> pt. 2 -> pt. 3 >

The first time Rose turned up at your door, she didn’t knock. Part of her soul was lost, wandering until it bumped into something familiar where she could place herself. It had just so happened to be you.

She knows that if she knocks and you answer, she will not have the words to say what needs to be said or the explanations to process the emotions she is feeling. Rose Landry knows that if she sees you on the other side of the door, she will not be able to figure out all that she needs to figure out. At the same time, she doesn’t really know why she’s ended up here, and at the same time, she definitely does.

So she leaves.

The second time in the same evening that Rose is stood outside your door, she does knock.

It’s softer than she intends, and she half-hopes you didn’t hear it. But the door opens with you smiling on the other side and the raging storm within Rose’s heart and mind is quietened. She’d been wandering the dusk and dark streets waiting for a sign, coming to your door and walking away out of shame or uncertainty, walking everywhere and nowhere only to end up back here.

The door opens anyway.

You look far better than the last time she saw you, still hung up on Sveta and drowning your sorrows in her expensive Russian vodka. Now you look radiant, a light genuinely returned to your eyes. Rose can’t imagine what she looks like through your eyes.

She’s certainly not broken up and crying or anything like that but after an evening of walking, she can’t imagine looking her best.

“Hey.” You answer, slightly surprised but not unwelcoming.

Rose swallows, putting aside all the rampant thoughts in her mind. “Hi.”

There’s a pregnant silence that stretches just a little bit longer than what would be comfortable. A silence filled with the weeks that you hadn’t been able to see one another, caught up in your schedules and your projects and Rose’s new beau.

“Mrs NHL Hollander. How nice to grace my humble abode with your presence.”

Rose tenses, glancing around. “Are you gonna invite me in?” She aims for something light and airy and lands somewhere just shy. “Or am I doing an awkward doorstep thing?”

You pull the door open wider, huffing a laugh. “Come in, come in.”

That small smile you give sticks to Rose like glue, letting her cling to the small sign like it means something other than polite friendship.

Your apartment is different. Clean. There’s no more half-packed boxes or trashed décor that reminded you of Sveta. You’d cleaned and organised and made the space yours and solely yours again.  

She places her purse on the counter like second nature.

“Is everything okay?” You start to ask, then hesitate. “You looked kinda stressed.”

Rose sighed, heavy, the weight-bearing kind of sigh that sits in the air. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind.”

You look at her more carefully now, smile dissipating. “What happened?”

Rose had thought about how to explain all of it, how to tell you things that she wasn’t supposed to say out loud. But she couldn’t hide them from you, not completely.

“Shane and I aren’t seeing each other.”

You blink, hard. “What?” Rose and the NHL’s wonder boy, Shane had been dating very publicly for the past two or three weeks, seen as the perfect couple in the media’s eyes.

“We just weren’t working. It’s better as friends.” She shrugs, like it’s nothing, like the whole situation didn’t change something fundamental inside her. And simultaneously, she mentally jumps off the cliff. “He’s gay.”

“No shit.”

Your response is automatic, a reflection of something you’d been thinking ever since Rose met the guy. You were quite accurate with your queer radar, and Shane Hollander sent it sounding (so did Svetlana’s hockey friend Ilya if you were honest but in a slightly different way).

“No shit?” Rose stands staring.

You cough through the awkwardness, “Sorry, it’s just… he seems kinda gay. He doesn’t date, he’s quite quiet, under a lot of pressure, very quiet in the media, and-“

Rose leaves the silence to hang. “And?”

“He’s got bottom eyes, the begging kind that makes your insides melt.”

She gasped, jumping towards you as you leant back on the counter. “He does! It’s like staring into a doe’s eyes, they’re so dark and deep and soft.”

The space between you two becomes charged, Rose bent across the counter opposite you in her excitement. You’re leant on your elbows, face propped in your hands and watching her.

“You… didn’t know?” You ask her carefully.

Rose lets out another breath. “No, I-“ She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “No. I knew something wasn’t… right. I just thought it was me.”

You push off the counter slightly, crossing your arms. “Rose…”

“I kept thinking,” she continues, words picking up pace now that they’ve started, “if I just tried harder, or if I felt more, or if I was different somehow, then it would click into place, you know? Like everyone always says it does.”

She glances at you then, something sharp and uncertain in her eyes.

“And now?” you ask.

Rose exhales slowly, looking past you, like the answer might be written somewhere in your apartment, tucked between the pieces of a life you’re still putting back together.

“Now I think,” she says carefully, “maybe I’ve been getting it wrong.”

You frown slightly. “Getting what wrong?”

Rose hesitates.

“Everything.”

The realisation that she might be different, or that she wants to be different sits under her skin like a parasite, leeching off her and difficult to ignore or remove. Her gaze flickers to you and stays there.

You stand up straighter, brushing down your clothes of non-existent dust. “Do you want a drink?”

Half a bottle of sprits later, Rose turns to you with an unexpected soberness.

“How did you know you liked girls?”

For a second, you freeze. It’s subtle, easy to miss. But Rose doesn’t. She’s always been good at reading you, at catching things you don’t say out loud no matter how hard you try to hide them.

Your fingers close and open and then close again against the rim of your glass, a nervous tick while you think through your answer. And you don’t answer right away. The question isn’t asked lightly, not asked to be gossiped about. It lands heavy, like she’s placed something fragile in the middle of you and hoping you won’t reach out and break it.

Instead, you take a fortifying sip and let the burn settle in your chest like the ache of the years of memories around the subject.

“I don’t know if there was a single moment.” You admit slowly, voice far quieter than ever before. “Not like a big, obvious thing.”

She watched carefully, catching each micro expression.

“It was more like-“ You pause, searching for the right words. “Realising that I liked girls the way everyone else talked about liking boys. And boys didn’t hold any space in my brain, only other girls.”

“But how do you know?” Rose stares with her brows knitted sharply together.

You huff a small laugh, “I get the butterflies and I dream, and sometimes it’s all I would think about. Svetlana had a way of encapsulating my whole life, that felt like love. People talk about things and some of it’s real and some of it is stupid. But I only ever felt it with girls. I guess I always knew, I always was regardless.”

Rose swallows, “And you didn’t think it was just… friendship?”

You tilt your own head, finally catching up with what she’s really asking. “Friendships don’t usually make you feel like you’re going to lose your mind if they look at you a certain way. Or like you need to be closer to them all the time, because they steady your racing heart and make the world stop spinning.”

Her breath catches, almost imperceptible. But you’re watching her so closely now that you would notice anything. Her gaze drops for a moment before she forces it back up to meet yours.

Oh.

Oh.

You shift slightly, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Why are you asking?”

There’s no accusation in it. Just curiosity, just care. Rose exhales, long and shaky, leaning back into the couch like something inside her has finally started to give way.

“I just-” she stops, pressing her lips together then tries again. “I keep thinking about things. About… people.”

“People?” you echo.

Her gaze flickers to you again, lingers. “Yeah.”

The word sits between you. You don’t push. Not yet. You just watch her, the way she’s picking at the seam of the cushion, the way her foot taps faintly against the floor like she’s trying to outrun her own thoughts.

“After Shane,” she says slowly, “I thought I’d feel… rejected. Or embarrassed, or something like that.”

“But you don’t?” you ask.

She shakes her head. “No,” she admits. “I feel… relieved. And that’s what’s freaking me out,” she adds with a weak, breathy laugh. “Because I shouldn’t feel like that, right? And then he told me about him being gay. He’d never told anyone that before and it just hit something for me. It made me start thinking.”

You lean back slightly, watching her with something softer now. “That’s not a bad thing.”

Rose goes very still at that. The words settle over her, slow and heavy, like they’re slotting into place somewhere deep inside her whether she’s ready for them or not.

“I just keep replaying things,” she murmurs. “Moments. Feelings I brushed off. And now I’m like, was that normal? Or was I just… ignoring it?”

Your heart is beating a little faster now. You don’t like how easily you can guess where her mind is going. You don’t like how much you want to be wrong.

“Rose-”

“Did it ever scare you?” she asks quietly. “When you started realising?”

You hold her gaze. “Yeah,” you admit. “A little. Feeling different about anything feels scary.”

Her throat bobs as she swallows. Her shoulders drop just a fraction, her eyes soften like she’s standing on the edge of something and considering, for the first time, what it would feel like to just… step forward.

Rose lets out a slow breath, her gaze drifting, just briefly, to your lips before snapping back up like she didn’t mean to do that. Like she didn’t even realise she had. “I like guys.”

Your stomach flips. You pretend you didn’t notice.

“But maybe, there’s something else that I’ve ignored. Do you-” she starts, then stops.

You wait.

She shakes her head, laughing under her breath. “This is so stupid.”

“It’s not,” you say immediately.

She looks at you again, something raw flickering across her face.

“It feels like it is,” she admits. “Like I’m late to something everyone else already figured out.”

You soften slightly. “There’s no timeline for this, Rose.”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

But she doesn’t sound convinced. Not yet.

“Just give it time.”

[muxshwriting]

last time

svetlana vetrova x fem!actress!reader

summary: you and sveta break up, and you both find others to comfort yourselves in the darkness || warnings: mutual pining, cheating but they were broken up but still in love, it's complicated, suggestive, basically smut-adjacent, alcohol || word count: 2k || masterlist

Svetlana stands in the darkness of Ilya's Boston home. She's dried the evidence of tears, donned the only piece of clothing that doesn't still smell like you and escaped to somewhere she'd always been welcomed.

You're back in your once-shared apartment, now half empty as Sveta moved all her belongings out. A phone vibrates on the counter, pinging over and over with messages and notifications and calls you won't answer from friends who've heard what happened.

The darkness comforts you both, in a way, a blanket that hides the horrors of reality that you both face without each other.

Ilya flicks on his light, battling with the conflict of his own, the bubbling disappointment of not seeing Shane again and the let down of missing a game of hockey. He expected to come back to a cold and lonely house, not expecting even him to be home this weekend. Instead, when he turns on the light he's met with a smiling Svetlana, dressed in his jersey and already making herself comfortable.

He swears at the intrusion, at the shock of someone else in his home.

"Surprise!" She greets his in Russian, the tension already slipping from her shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" Ilya replies quickly, masking his shock once again and replacing it with stoicism.

Sveta shrugs, stepping closer and trailing a hand from his shoulder to his chest. "You don't have a match so..."

"How do you know?" He's being brash, he knows that but he can't bring himself to care. Sveta would brush is off anyway, forgive him like that.

"It was announced, asshole." Her native tongue slipped so easily from her, twisting through the air and carrying a meaning she could never quite translate into English.

Maybe that's where it all went wrong. Maybe she would blame the whole breakdown of the relationship she still craved on a misunderstanding, a mistranslation of her meanings and a twisting of her words into something they weren't. Maybe she could pretend it was something outside her control that you hadn't even tried to fix or see differently.

"Yes," Ilya was turning the cogs in his brain now. Svetlana was in Boston. Why? "But why are you here? Where's that little girlfriend of yours?"

Svetlana ignores the pang of pain in her chest that his words cause her. She leans even closer, her lips brushing against his jaw. "She left me. Apparently, I am petty and not loving enough and spiteful for her." The second sentence is murmured in English, a reflection of the language it was told to her in, despite not being those exact words. She switches back to Russian, "Do you think I'm petty Ilya? Am I not loving enough for you?"

Ilya can see what she needs, something to forget it all, someone to distract her. She's been that someone for him before. And he wouldn't be lying if he wasn't in the exact same scenario right now.

His mind kept drifting back to Shane fucking Hollander and his stupid freckles and his perfect mouth.

He could use the distraction. "Sveta," He croons her name like you used to, with honey dripping through the words as he closes the gap of their lips. "She is fool to let you go."

Sveta lets herself be lifted onto the counter, to be whisked away into the throes of familiar friendship and joy and pleasure all bounded into one parcel named Ilya Rozanov.

She ignores that through it all, through all the stark differences of you and him, you're the one that stays at the forefront of her mind. The images of you is what brings her to the edge, what relights the spark over and over, endlessly until she can't think anymore and it all fades away.

You've gone for a somewhat different approach. A knock at the apartment door distracts you from the rest of the finest bottle of Sveta's vodka that she had foolishly left behind. What began as full, now barely had 1/3 left.

By the time you've willed yourself to the door and figured out the lock and latch, you're not quite expecting anyone to still be standing there.

Rose Landry, two-time costar and very close friend of yours stands at the other side of the door with a bag of assorted bottles and cartons. As you glance inside the bag, you can see that it's all mixers and no extra alcohol.

"So! I was going to come over here and help you drown your sorrows but it seems you've already beat me to it." She glanced over you, already spotting how your mouth curves into a smile and you're so far gone. "What are you drinking?"

"Sveta left her good vodka, sucks for her." You slur out, leading Rose back into the apartment. "I bet she's already found someone else to keep her warm."

Rose scoffed, already reaching to confiscate the bottle from your reach. "Svetlana loves you. And you love her, even if something happened that made you feel different." She tries her best to comfort you but the words aren't really reaching. "What even happened between you two? Your text was so vague."

"Oh you know."

Rose most certainly did not know.

You wave your hand around the place, gesturing vaguely like the answer is just floating somewhere in the air between you. It isn't.

She shuts the door behind her with her foot, dropping the bag onto the counter with a dull thud. The sound echoes more than it should in the now half-empty apartment, the too empty apartment. Her eyes flick around all the walls, all the corners, all the places where Svetlana Petrova used to be.

"Yeah," she replied sarcastically. "I definitely know. What the fuck happened?"

You laugh, but it comes out all wrong. Too sharp and bitter and hollow and tired. "'S nothing." You try to insist, reaching for where you'd put down the bottle, not remembering that Rose had taken it away. "It was a stupid argument and I said stupid things and then she replied with stupider things."

Your voice slips into a whine as you press your body back into the couch and admit defeat.

"Where's the good vodka gone?"

"You've had enough. Don't do this." She says it softer now, "Don't end it like this."

You look at her, really look at Rose Landry for the first time since she arrived. She’s steady. Grounded. Entirely too present. It makes something in your chest twist.

Rose showed up from a cryptic text about a breakup, not inviting her over or sharing details. She'd come over with mixers and snacks and kind enough words because she knew that would be exactly what you'd need.

“Why does everyone keep acting like it’s fixable?” you mutter. “She didn’t even try to stay.”

That’s not entirely true. And you both know it.

Back in Boston, Svetlana lies curled in Ilya's arms in a house that also feels entirely too big for one person to inhabit. He exhales slowly against her neck, watching a random hockey play by play on the television screen but not paying any attention.

Svetlana, who could easily tell you the score of any MHL game from this year, couldn't even tell you what teams were playing in the match she was currently watching.

Everything about it is familiar.

Her hands know where to go, she knows how he'll react, his own movements are practised, perfect against her skin. It's dangerously easy to fall into something that requires no explanation, no translation, no vulnerability.

She doesn't have to explain herself and Ilya doesn't ask.

But he's also not you.

Her fingers curl tighter against his shirt for a moment and then loosen. Her mind thinks back to you, even if she could fix it all, it would never be the same. She would have to do something different and the mere thought terrified her.

"Are you not watching the game?" Ilya murmurs against her skin, his voice low and knowing.

She almost laughs in response, pushing his face from out of her neck. Of course she's not watching the game, of course she's distracted. "I'm watching the game."

Ilya studies her anyway, tempted to call it out and smirking.

"It is her?"

The question strikes her like a physical blow. Her jaw tightens, just slightly but Ilya can feel the way her body pauses against his.

"She is not relevant."

"You're still in love with her."

Rose states it like it's obvious, halfway through her own tub of ice cream. You're sobering up slightly, wrapped in a blanket and trying to avoid the awkward conversation.

You yank your wrist free from where she's been holding your hand. "Don't." You snap at her, "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't act like you know everything."

Rose raises an eyebrow. "I don't know everything, but I know you. You're still in love with her."

It hit closer than you wanted it to, inching back into your corner to create some space between you and Rose's oppressive questions.

"She-" you start explaining yourself, to get the words out of your heart and soul and into the world. Then stop, because how do you explain someone like Svetlana? How do you solve a problem that you didn't see until it was too late? How can you love someone and explain loving someone who feels like winter and summer and the sun and the moon all at once?

"She doesn't say thing," you try again, thinking the words through carefully. "Not properly. And I kept waiting for her to just feel it the same way I do. Out loud. Where I could actually hear it."

Rose watches you carefully. "And she didn't?"

You laugh again, quieter this time. "“She said she cared," you admit. "She said it in her way."

Her way.

The clipped sentences. The careful phrasing. The intensity hidden behind control.

You should've expected carefree admiration and words of affection all the time from her. By virtue of how she was raised and where she was raised, she would never freely express her love like that.

But you were tired of being a secret from your extended friends and your fans. And you were tired of never feeling as though your love was truly reciprocated.

"If she cared, she would be here."

Your chest tightens but Rose just clicks her tongue in response. "And if you cared, you'd go to her, right? Where is she?"

"Boston, gone to see her Ilya."

Rose frowned. "Who else can she go to? Go back to Russia? You want her to go back to Russia?"

"Of course not."

"Then where?"

You huff, finally staggering up from the couch and walking away. "I want her here."

Sveta is very still now.

Ilya has gone quiet too, watching her the way he studies his opponents in a game, reading every micro expression, every shift in movement.

"You should have stayed." He says suddenly, so matter-of-factly.

Sveta blinks, "What?"

"With her," he clarifies. "You should have stayed."

It's not a judgement, Ilya's certainly done worse than walking out after a fight. She looks away, her gaze dropping to the bed beneath them.

"She asked for things I do not give."

Ilya pauses, "Did you try?"

Her eyes flash, sharp. "I do not pretend to be someone I am not."

"No." He huffs a laugh instead. "We both just lose people instead."

Silence fills the room.

"But not each other." She replies slowly.

Ilya sighs, nodding. "Never each other."

Rose steps closer to you now, slower, more careful.

"And what if she did love you the same way?" she asks gently. "Just… not the way you expected?"

You shake your head immediately. "I don't think it would be enough."

But your voice wavers. And Rose notices.

"Really?" she presses.

You hesitate. And in that hesitation, everything unravels just a little bit more.

Svetlana exhales slowly, her composure slipping, not visibly, not to anyone who doesn’t know her. But Ilya knows. It's there. He sees it.

"I do not regret it," she says.

Ilya tilts his head. "Really?"

She doesn’t. Because she can’t. Because in the quiet, in the stillness, in the space where there’s no distraction left, you’re still there.

Always.

[muxshwriting]

★ HEATED RIVALRY

<- main masterlist

ROSE LANDRY

dual screens || hot seat

at a movie premiere, you meet your favourite actress and discover that she’s also meeting her favourite gaming content creator

rose follows through and joins you on one of your gaming streams

SVETLANA VETROVA

coming soon...

ROSELANA (ROSE X SVETLANA X READER)

time and time again (series)

you and Svetlana try to outrun the hurt by finding comfort in all the wrong places. then Rose comes along with her own heartbreak and somehow makes everything worse, until she and Svetlana meet, realize they have far more in common than jealousy, and you’re left staring at all the unfinished feelings between the three of you

ILYA ROZANOV

coming soon...

[muxshwriting]

Bonjourrrrr. Cannnn u write a maverick x pilot! Reader fic where they meet during TGM and readers an instructorr and they meet at a bar where Mav doesn’t know the reader n he tries to flirt (drunkenly idk) n then the next day boom readers an instructors n Mav’s like oops n they start talking n then they fall in love idk?? Tyyyy

thank you so much for the request xx

unnamed feelings

hope you enjoy!

[muxshwriting]

unnamed feelings

pete 'maverick' mitchell x reader

summary: the morning after meeting at the local navy bar, pete discovers just who you are || warnings: alcohol, stupid men, kinda yearning || word count: 1.6k || masterlist

REQUESTED: Can u write a maverick x pilot! Reader fic where they meet during TGM and readers an instructorr and they meet at a bar where Mav doesn’t know the reader n he tries to flirt (drunkenly idk) n then the next day boom readers an instructors n Mav’s like oops n they start talking n then they fall in love idk??

Music hummed through the floors, pool balls cracked in the corner and somewhere behind you, a recruit was probably spending his money on girls that wouldn't give him the time of day.

You sat at the far end of the bar with a sweating bottle in your hand, flight jacket abandoned beside you, civilian clothes doing an excellent job of hiding your rank.

It was always fun to watch pilots act when they thought nobody important was around. It was even more fun for them to have a full length conversation with you and still not recognise you out of your uniform.

It wasn't hard to notice the newcomers to the bar, it was harder to spot the one that didn't fit in with the crowd.

It was probably easier to notice him when you recognised his face. Captain Pete Mitchell. Maverick. You'd heard stories about him since flight school. Half of them sounded impossible. The other half sounded suicidal.

And somehow, seeing him in person was worse.

Older than the photographs pinned up in briefing rooms. Worn around the edges. Hands rough where they wrapped around the beer Penny slid toward him. Aviators tucked into the collar of his shirt like he’d been born wearing them.

He looked tired. Not physically. Something deeper than that. Then his eyes landed on you.

"Like what you see?" He asks as he slides closer to you.

You lift your beer, "Call it an occupational hazard, sorry for staring."

"And what occupation's that?"

You look him over slowly, deliberately. "I study bad decisions. And then I stop them from becoming worse events."

That got a laugh out of him, something warm and surprised. "That seems harsh."

"I don't know," you muse. "I hear Navy pilots bruise easy."

"So you're Navy." He deduced, "It all depends who's hitting."

It's too cocky, the easy confidence. The kind that should’ve annoyed you instantly. Instead, you found yourself smiling into your drink.

Pete leaned one elbow against the bar beside you. "You stationed here?"

"For now."

"Not very talkative, are you?"

"Maybe I just know enough not to share my intimate employment details with strangers."

You looked at him then, properly, and watched the exact moment he realized you weren’t intimidated by him.

Penny caught your eye from behind the bar, something dangerously close to amusement written across her face. Clearly she recognized you. Clearly she was enjoying this far too much to intervene.

Traitor.

Pete slid his stool closer to yours anyway.

"You fly?" he asks.

You huff a quiet laugh. "Why are you so curious?"

"Fighters?"

"Careful, Captain," you say smoothly. "People might start talking."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, interested, he hadn’t expected you to know who he was. "So you've heard of me?"

"Let's say your name gets around."

"I have a reputation?" he asked.

You almost laughed in his face. "At Top Gun?" Instead you took another sip of beer. "You certainly have something."

Something shifted in his expression then. A flicker of curiosity beneath the charm.

"You gonna tell me your name?"

You considered it. You really did. But there was something deeply entertaining about this entire situation, and maybe that made you a little cruel.

"Maybe tomorrow," you reply.

The next morning, Maverick walked into the hangar running ten minutes late and mildly hungover. Cyclone looked ready to court martial him on sight. The dagger squad sat scattered through the room, all varying degrees of awake.

And standing at the front beside the projector screen... was you.

You turned at the sound of the door opening, your expression remained perfectly neutral. Maverick felt his soul briefly depart his body.

Cyclone noticed immediately. "Nice of you to join us, Captain Mitchell."

Maverick didn’t answer. Because you were in uniform now. Commander insignia. Instructor patch. Flight wings gleaming under fluorescent lights. And you looked entirely too composed for someone who’d spent the previous evening watching him flirt shamelessly across a bar.

You folded your arms. "Captain Mitchell," you greeted calmly.

He spotted your name (finally) on your path. "Commander Y/L/N."

Cyclone narrowed his eyes. “You two know each other?”

Before Maverick could invent a lie, you answered smoothly. "We met breifly last night Admiral. And Captain Mitchell carries a reputation well known to many in the Navy."

One of the pilots made a choking sound that suspiciously resembled laughter.

Cyclone ignored him. "Commander Y/L/N will be assisting with combat maneuver training and terrain navigation."

The breifing continued as normal, Maverick taking the seat next to yours without another word. He refused to meet your gaze but you could practically see the comments and questions brewing under his skin, waiting until he could release them out into the open.

As the crowd disspated, he finally turned to you and managed to speak, "You're an instructor, a Commander."

You tilted your head, not looking up from the stack of papers containing the mission breif that you continued to study. "Observant, aren't you?"

"Why didn't you say anything? You enjoy making a fool out of captains and officers?"

There was the tinge of anger and fustration in his voice and you took a deep breath. "You were drunk. No harm was done. I'm sorry to have bruised your ego."

Cyclone was just within earshot and had to surpress a smile at Maverick finally being beaten.

Maverick glared, "You could've said something."

"And ruin the fun?"

The thought brought out a grin across your face. And god help him, Maverick was lost immediately. His mind was reeling like a pubescent boy seeing pretty girls for the first time, air knocked from his lungs at seeing a genuine smile from you sober.

Then he came to his senses and scoffed, hiding his fluster behind his ever-growing ego and confidence. But for the first time in years, Pete Mitchell genuinely forgot how to speak.

What was worse is that you flew like a maniac. You flew like him. Minus the recklessness and the grit and the nerve, you flew with terrifying precision and manouvered so deliberately that the aircraft wouldn't move an inch unless you willed it.

Maverick watched from the observation deck as your fighter banked sharply through the training course. You would cut low enough to make even the experienced pilots tense but Maverick could only admire.

"Jesus Christ," Payback muttered.

Hangman blinked at the screen. "Are we allowed to do that?"

"No," Maverick answered automatically.

Phoenix snorted. "Pretty sure that’s why they hired them."

You landed smoothly thirty minutes later and strode into the hangar like you hadn’t just violated several laws of physics. Maverick followed you before he could think better of it. "You dropped below safe altitude twice."

You barely glanced at him while pulling off your gloves. "Three times."

"That isn't better." Pete huffed, "There's easier ways to impress people."

That made you pause. You looked at him then, really looked at him, and something in your expression softened unexpectedly. "You think I'm trying to impress someone? I've proved myself Captain, I don't need to show off anymore."

You'd spent every second of your military career proving things, proving you deserved the spots you got, proving your abilities, proving that you could do anything thrown at you. One mistake would've costed you everything back then, so you removed the ability to make mistakes from yourself, and at work, you became perfect.

"Who are you trying to impress Captain?" The repetition of his rank was intentional, a reminder of who he could've been if he didn't desire the skies like a siren's call.

Pete could feel himself shrinking. "I'm not."

"Really?"

"I'm not!"

There's a softness in your eyes he didn't notice before, maybe he just hadn't been close enough.

"Maybe act like it."

Your little discussion had been the catalyst, the spark that ignited the thoughts in his head and the pattering heartbeat in his chest.

There were few things in life that Pete Mitchell was sure of. The number only dwindled the older he got, the more he grew separated from his once-peers and remained stagnant.

Flying had always been constant.

And now he wanted to add you to the list. You, who had come into his life like a whirlwind and who he prayed would stick around. It started small, the things he didn't need you to notice right away. A coffee in the morning, his paperwork filed on time for once. Things that made your life smoother, because he made your life smoother.

Penny caught the pair of you talking in the Hard Deck for another night in a row and cornered Pete on his way out, "You like them."

Pete nearly choked on his beer. "Penny-"

Penny looked unimpressed. "You’re seventy years old, not sixteen."

"I do not-"

Penny was already ready with her retort. "You look at them like they hung the moon."

Pete opened his mouth and closed it, because she was right.

You had somehow settled into his life without asking permission. Late-night mission planning became dinner afterwards. Arguments became teasing. Teasing became touches that lingered too long.

It all seemed easy for you.

While you affected him through everything you did. You could affect his without even being there, through a thought he conjoured up. You would reach over slowly, fingers brushing against his hand before intertwining with it naturally, easily, like you’d done it a hundred times before.

He'd hold you to him softly, cradling the warmth you gave off.

You'd kiss under the Californian sun and all would be right in the world. You could stop worrying about being wrong and Pete wouldn't have to prove he was right.

[muxshwriting]

Hi again! Definitely sticking around! Part 2 was really cute. Glad my request provided enough inspiration to lead to a second part! That's awesome :)

TYSM

i've got some roselana fics in my drafts that should get posted in the next week or two!

[muxshwriting]

Omg! Thanks so much for writing my Rose Landry request! I loved it! Definitely related to Reader because there's no way I could walk past all the cameras at a movie premiere without freaking out a bit lol

I'm so glad you enjoyed it!

If you want to stick around, i've got a part two published today too!

pt. 1: dual screens

pt. 2: hot seat

[muxshwriting]

hot seat

rose landry x fem!gamer!reader

summary: rose follows through and joins you on one of your gaming streams || warnings: physical touch, author can't write flirting, chat bullying them into something more || word count: 1.4k || masterlist

part two to dual screens

Your starting stream screen was kept on for far longer than usual, the chat noticing and spamming questions. And you were kinda-basically-really starting to freak out.

Number one, you'd announced a special guest for this livestream with no other details to your fans. That itself had led to your small corner of the internet going crazy before you'd even fired up your stream. Number two, your special guest was currently sitting in your home, in your gaming and streaming room, sitting just outside of the cameras view. The perfect Rose Landry who refused to be anything less than your friend ever since you'd met at the premiere.

She reaches a gentle hand over, your camera not active yet as you just take a moment to breathe and prepare for the onslaught. "You ready?"

You can't help but smile back at her, "Come on! You don't get to say that. Are you ready for this? It's gonna be quite hectic for a little bit."

"It's your world," she reasoned. "I'm sure it will be perfect."

Finally, you plucked up the courage to click onto your facecam and welcome your chat to the stream.

"Hey guys! Welcome back, hope you've been having an alright day and hope it's gonna get better for being here."

You couldn't help yourself from glancing off to where Rose was stood, where she was watching you in your element.

"We have a very special guest joining us today. As you can see, I have an extra chair at the set-up so yes, this guest is joining us in person."

You risk a glance to the screen where your chat flies at a million miles an hour. It seems positive, many trying to guess who your guest is. Rose is grinning from her place, offering to take her time in the hot seat of the camera lens.

"Okay... chat, behave yourselves please and be nice." You reach a hand to bring Rose into the screen, taking a seat in the chair pressed against yours, "This is Rose. Everyone say hi."

is that ROSE LANDRY omggggg hiii this is so cool hello! roseee OMG ROSEXYN COLLAB YESSSSS i'm so sat

You were slightly scared to look at chat too closely. Then Rose leaned forward, face an inch from yours as she spoke into your microphone, already comfortable.

"Hi chat! I suck at the game we're going to play, but I've been told I've got the best teacher."

i loved you in xsquad yn will protect you lol she's gonna die instantly

The last made you snort, pointing it out to Rose.

"I won't die instantly!"

You frown at her, turning. "You told me you died in the tutorial. The tutorial!"

She gasped loudly, "We talked about this!" (Your chat had, by this point, completely lost it.) "I've been practicing."

You blinked. "You have?"

"…define practicing."

You loaded into the game on a throwaway account, not wanting to tank your stats with whatever was to come. The familiar environment settled you immediately, the familiarity and muscle memory kicking in like second nature.

You set everything up for a match, loading into an easier level just to get used to the controls and such and then handed the reins to Rose.

"Let's see how you do."

The game loaded in, Rose taking control of your keyboard and mouse, and immediately walked into a wall.

You had to press your lips tightly together to stop yourself from laughing, the chat an echo of your sentiment. They spammed messages partly making fun of Rose's ability and partly cheering her on.

She tried again, shifting her character but still couldn't stay away from the wall, backing into it this time.

"I hate this wall." Rose muttered as she adjusted her posture. "Why is it in the way?"

"It's not the wall's fault."

She frowned, "It feels personal."

The chat was going crazy at the little interactions between the two of you, as well as the tweets appearing mentioning the look in your eyes.

You hesitated for a second and then leaned closer, hands reaching for Rose's. "Okay, let me just-"

Rose inhaled sharply, pressing backwards so that her arm pressed against your body, letting you get closer until you were speaking against her own face to reach the micorphone. It was a bad idea. A very bad idea...

"Show me," Rose's voice was soft, not turning but keeping her eyes on the game in front of you and occasionally glancing down where your hands were meeting.

For a second, neither of you breathed.

"Like this," you vlurted out, your own voice gentler than you thought it would be. "You don't need to force it, just small movements to go where you want to."

"...right."

Rose wasn't looking at the screen anymore, her eyes on your hands, her eyes flicking across to meet yours.

"Rose?"

"Yeah?"

You pulled back slightly, maybe for plausible deniability, maybe to give Rose a second to breathe.

"Eyes on the game."

"...yeah, the game."

omg I'M SCREAMING the TENSION???? KISSSSS oh my god! got to scissor city I BEG KISSSSSSSSS

About ten games later, Rose was starting to get the hang of things. She could navigate in game and even target accurately when she wasn't being targeted herself.

But as soon as an opponent got within range and started attacking, Rose forgot everything you'd been trying to teach her. She missed shots, she forgot abilities. At one point, she'd panicked so hard that she used every cooldown all at once and accomplished absolutely nothing.

You'd watched all of this with a shrew smile on your face and the occasional stint of hysterical laughter, head dropping onto her shoulder.

"Okay- Okay! Breathe," you managed. "You don't need to press everything at once-"

"They're looking at me!"

You had to glance away for a moment, "They're always looking at you Rose, that's the game!"

"Exactly," Rose complained. "I hate it!"

"Hey- You're doing great," you said instead, softer now.

She paused. "…I am?"

"No," you admitted. "But you're trying, and that's what matters."

She laughed, quieter this time. "Wow. Inspiring. Truly."

Somewhere between the chaos, something shifted. You pretended you couldn't see it. You pretended you definitely couldn't feel the way her shoulders tensed slightly every time you leaned closer. Or how she kept glancing up at you when she thought you wouldn't notice.

"You're impossible."

"You love it," she shot back instantly.

You froze. "I-"

She turned her head slightly, just enough that if you leaned an inch closer. You straightened instead, clearing your throat.

"Focus," you said weakly.

"Right," she murmured, not sounding convinced.

And then, after an hour or so, she finally got a kill. A clean kill, all on her own merit.

She gasped, half-turning in her chair, directly into you. "Oh my god, did you see that?!"

You were very aware of how close she was. "Yeah," you said, smiling despite yourself. "That was good."

Her grin softened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Did you see that, chat?" she demanded. "I'm incredible."

For a second, neither of you moved away. Your hand was still resting lightly over hers. Her eyes flicked down to it, then back up to your face.

Your heart stuttered. Chat was unreadable at this point. A blur of messages flying too fast to process, the viewer count hitting it's peak.

THE WAY THEY’RE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER I’M GOING TO PASS OUT SHE’S BLUSHING NO THEY’RE BOTH BLUSHING OMGGGGGG

"Okay," you said quickly, pulling your hand back like it had burned you. "Next round."

"Right," she echoed, a little breathless.

You kept playing, kept laughing, kept bumping into each other, shoulders brushing, knees knocking, neither of you quite moving away. At one point, she leaned into you instead of the screen and missed an entire enemy push.

"Rose!"

"What? I was distracted."

"By what?"

She tilted her head, smiling just a little. "You."

Hours later, when the stream finally ended, neither of you moved to turn off the setup immediately.

The room felt quieter without chat.

"That was fun," she said softly.

"Yeah," you replied.

Her lips were so close to yours, it was almsot like you could lean closer and-

"Can we do it like this again?" she asked.

You glanced at the chair, your set-up, the screen where chat had just been spamming. At her.

"…like this?" you repeated.

She smiled.

"Yeah."

Your heart did something dangerously hopeful.

"Yeah," you said. "I'd like that."

[muxshwriting]

Hai. Wud u consider writing for Daniel Kaffee? (A few good men?)

Im not in that fandom 😔

so it would be a no

[muxshwriting]

Saw your post about any possible Heated Rivalry requests and I actually came up with one!

So my idea is Rose Landry x streamer/youtuber Reader! (This idea absolutely came to me because I've gotten back into playing Overwatch and Pokemon lately)

Maybe it's Reader's first time being a VIP of some sort at a convention? Rose and Reader end up meeting (maybe they're both big fans of the other?) and they just hit it off!

That's honestly as much as I've got, hopefully that's enough to stir up some ideas! Thanks!

when I say obsessed... I had this written so quickly and my brain is churning ideas for a sequel.

but it's here!!!

dual screens

[muxshwriting]

dual screens

rose landry x fem!gamer!reader

summary: at a movie premiere, you meet your favourite actress and discover that she’s also meeting her favourite gaming content creator. chaos ensues || warnings: anxiety, panic attacks || word count: 1.6k || masterlist

REQUESTED: Rose Landry x streamer/youtuber Reader! Maybe it's Reader's first time being a VIP of some sort at a convention? Rose and Reader end up meeting (maybe they're both big fans of the other?) and they just hit it off!

The glittering premiere of Rose Landry's most recent blockbuster was the last place you ever expected to find yourself on a Friday night. And yet the invitation had been sitting in your calendar, ever since you'd first had the date confirmed. It was even highlighted in red.

You should have known from the very beginning that you would be invited, the film was based on the very game that you'd poured hours and hours into playing and perfecting. It had built your career and you were widely renowned as the best player on the planet, of course you were invited, especially after being consulted on some of the most iconic parts of the game.

Still, there's quite a big difference between playing and streaming a game through your monitor and headset to thousands of people and standing outside a theatre lined with flashing cameras and screaming fans. And most importantly, people who actually belonged here.

The late nights and the conversations with chatters was never meant to lead here, not to red carpets, not to photographers calling your name and not to being interviewed by legitimate journalists about the film you hadn't even seen yet.

There had been some small talk about the cast, none of which you'd been able to meet yet, and that somehow made every feeling you'd been having even worse.

Because the main blockbuster superstar of this picture was Rose Landry, the same Rose Landry who'd you'd been obsessed with for years. You could quote nearly every line of her most popular role in the X-Squad franchise as well as watching most, if not all, of her filmography.

Rose Landry, who could laugh off anything, any hint of uncomfortableness, who could turn a room of sour executives into a smiling crowd of agreeable donors. The perfect movie star. The perfect girl.

An attendant in front of you calls your name, your real name, the one only said at formal events where a gamer handle was inappropriate. They point forwards and all of a sudden you're posing on a red carpet dressed in the nicest dress you've ever touched, trying to remember what your team had given you as tips before you were all alone again.

It all felt like a different universe, bright lights and names being called as you kept moving along, probably quicker than you had to, just to get it over and done with before the main cast arrived.

"One more here!" "Look this way." "Over here!"

Your chest tightened but you forced a smile anyway.

This was fine. You were fine. You had gone to an all or nothing tournament final with a hundred thousand viewers watching you play. You had won a tournament under those conditions, under that stress. This was just...

Different.

"Hey! Hey? Are you okay?"

You turned, blinking back the bright spots in your vision as you realise you've made your way off the carpet and are now standing in the quieter entrance hall of the venue.

A woman with a headset and clipboard was watching you carefully, a worried look in her eyes.

You nod a little too quickly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm- It's all just a bit-"

Her expression softened immediately. "It's a lot, I know. First premiere?"

You let out a weak laugh. "Is it that obvious? Hopefully it's the last. This isn't my venue."

"A little."

You could feel your hands trembling at your sides, too many people, too much noise, even this far away from the real action. This world was worse than what you had imagined and feared, the truth being an ugly and terrifying reality you were now living.

There was a lump in your throat as you ask, "Is there somewhere I can wait that's quieter? I don't want to go all the way in to greet people yet."

"Of course," she replied gently, already guiding you away from the carpet and the crowd. "I just want to say, I love your streams and videos, it's great that you're out here tonight."

"Thanks."

The word seemed hollow, an automatic response to a compliment that you didn't really know how to justify with genuine gratitude. Part of you still didn't think you deserved the micro-fame you had in the community, especially now, just for being able to play a game well.

Behind the scenes was far quieter, not silent, still with staff running around and planning as more and more celebrities make their way through. But it was quieter, and manageable. And it gave you space to breathe.

You leaned against the wall, pressing the heel of your hand against your sternum.

In and out.

In. Out.

Your lungs wouldn’t cooperate. Usually you could ward off your panic attacks with a few breathes and the reminder that you were somewhere safe and that you weren't actively dying.

There's a voice reaching out to you from where you were drowning underwater, the voice muffled as it reaches your ears and tries to break through the barrier.

It's warm and familiar, a voice you'd heard a hundred times before, a voice you'd fallen asleep to more than once, an impossible voice.

It sends a chill down your spine as you manage to control your breathing enough to panic about something else.

Because the voice belonged to Rose Landry.

"Are you okay? Can I help with anything?"

Rose Landry.

Not on a screen. Not in a clip. Not paused mid-scene while you rewatched your favourite moments for the hundredth time. She looked… different. Still stunning, obviously. That hadn’t changed. But there was something softer in person. Less polished. A little nervous, even.

Which didn’t make any sense.

Because she was Rose Landry.

Rose Landry had slid down the wall opposite you, basically blocking off the backstage corridor. And you were- "Oh my god," you breathed. Your brain short-circuited.

This was worse than your nightmares. This was so much worse.

She blinked at you, catching full sight of your face and then lighting up with recognition. "Wait, you're-" She paused at the panic still prevalent on your face, pressing her lips together like she was trying not to embarrass herself.

You stare at her, she stares right back at you.

Then, at the exact same time, you both blurt-

"Oh my god, I'm such a huge fan-"

You both freeze, back to staring.

"...Wait."

Rose let out a disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand through her perfectly styled hair (it bounded back immediately where it had always been, perfect). (It drove you crazy). "No, no, hold on!" She pointed at you like you might disappear if she didn't. "You don't get to say that. I was going to say that."

Your brain simply refused to process that sentence, or the situation. "What?"

She shuffled closer, "You're- Don't freak out again, but you're literally my favourite streamer."

You made a noise that wasn’t quite a word. "I- no, that’s- no, you’re- you’re you."

"Yeah, and you’re you," she shot back, grinning now, a little breathless. "Do you have any idea how many hours I’ve spent watching your streams? Like unhealthy amounts."

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. It stays open with your jaw aching from dropping open so much in the last few minutes.

"I- what?" That seemed to be your new catchphrase.

"I tried to play the game before filming," she continues, gesturing animatedly now. "Thought it would help me get into character? It did not. I was terrible. Like, painfully bad."

A hysterical laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it. "Oh my god."

"I’m serious," she says, delighted that you were reacting. "I kept dying in the tutorial. The tutorial."

"That’s-" you pressed a hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking. "That’s actually impressive."

"Rude."

"Accurate."

She laughs, and just like that your panic is forgotten. The sharp edges had dulled, the white spots in your vision cleared and the weight removed from your chest.

Rose tilts her head, studying you. "You okay?" She asks again, softer now.

You hesitate, then nod, moving to your feet. "Yeah, it's- this isn't really my environment."

"Same." She instantly admits.

That throws you for another loop, "What?" (Definitely your catchphrase now).

She shrugs, gesturing back to the screaming photographers and press. "I mean, I'm used to it but that doesn't mean I like it. It's a lot. That's why my staff will let me hide out in the backstage areas before heading in to the theatres, it gives me a chance to catch my breath and mentally prepare."

Your shoulders loosen. "Yeah, I get that."

"Of course you do!" She said like it was obvious. "You have thousands watching you live, watching you play."

"That's different."

Rose raises an eyebrow. "How?"

"They're not really there." You explain. "It's just a screen. I can mute the donations, I can close the chat. I can at least pretend they're not there."

"…okay, yeah, that sounds nice."

Rose found her eyes unintentionally glanced across your body, admiring while still in awe of meeting you. Then she shifts on her feet, suddenly looking a little unsure. "Can I- uh, ask you something?"

"Sure."

Her eyes lit up again. "Would you ever, like, play with me?"

You blink. "You mean-"

"Off-stream," she clarifies quickly. "Or on-stream! Whatever. I just- I think it’d be really fun. And maybe you could teach me how to not die immediately?"

You stare at her. This was not how you thought tonight would go. You were supposed to panic, maybe survive the premiere, go home, and decompress for three days straight.

Not-

"Yeah," you say, before you could overthink it. "Yeah, I’d like that."

Her smile widens. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

[muxshwriting]

i'm officially obsessed with heated rivalry

watched it finally back in february and thought I'd have gotten over it by now but NOPE.

so... any requests? I've got a couple of svetlana and rose x readers drafted and ready to post in the next couple weeks so if there's anything you want to see... lmk!