#oc: josephine harris

[blakelysco-pilot]

You Belong To Me

From the Love Letter Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

The revelation that Robert Rosenthal does in fact love his best friend, Josephine Harris, comes too little too late as he’s getting ready to ship out to England. With a promise to write exchanged on the train platform, and an even bigger pinky promise that he come home to her, Rosie and Jo forge a romance detailed in their letters. Now that he’s returned home, he intends to make good on his promises.

“I’d better see you at Minton’s…”

He remembered the good natured teasing in his own voice as he began his semi-goodbye to Crosby on the hardstand the day they left Thorpe Abbotts. Croz had chuckled and promised he’d see him there; a sense of familiarity between the two as they felt their lives back home creeping upon them.

Now… well, now he was standing in front of the bar at Minton’s, fingers tapping idly on the short rocks glass in his hand, eyes sweeping over the sea of people. Men in their dress uniforms, pressed sharp; women wearing their favorite red lipstick and best stockings, all crowded together on the dance floor while the band played on.

New York was still swept up in the victory of the war; sweethearts who couldn’t get enough of dancing with their soldier who had just come home. Men looking to meet someone, to quell the ache of the last few years with a female companion.

Bringing the glass to his lips, Rosie let the familiar taste of the scotch soothe him, as he continued his people watching. Thinking back on it, sure, he had told Crosby that in no uncertain terms he’d be at Minton’s upon getting home; but it was a sentence almost identical to the one he had spoken moments before he shipped out, that resonated with him like the aftershocks of ringing a bell.

He couldn’t help but conjure up his own vision of red lips, smooth skin and a bright smile; the piece of home he had taken with him to East Anglia, and carried close to his heart (in the breast pocket of his uniform) on every single mission.

Josephine.

They had been childhood friends who grew up on the same block. Their moms were almost always having coffee together or, if the weather was nice, out on the stoop of their homes while Robert and Josephine played on the sidewalk. As kids, he had called her Jo, and she affectionately called him Robbie; and his Ma, well, his Ma would just shake her head with a fond smile and chuckle, muttering about how one day he would see it.

He’s twenty-eight now and he finally sees it, though, he supposes he saw it long before he shipped out. He had wanted to run down the block, knock on her door until her mother answered with a scowl on her face at all the noise, but something had stopped him. His Ma had said he thinks too much, but the laundry list of what-if’s had violently plagued him before deciding no, on his behalf. How could he drop that revelation on her, and then leave for god knows how long? His Ma had taught him better than that.

What he had asked her instead, was if he could write to her; but when the words tumbled forth past his lips, one or two getting tangled in his wiry mustache, she was already asking him the same thing.

“Would it be alright if I wrote to you?”

The pair both fell silent, before a soft laugh escaped Jo’s lips, and he knew he would be counting the days until he was able to hear it again.

“Should have known you’d beat me to the punch.” He grinned, head shaking in jest.

Jo just smiled and threw her arms around him, holding him close for as many minutes as she could before the conductor at Grand Central Station called for the ‘All Aboard.”

“Robbie…” She had looked up at him, big brown eyes filled with unshed tears for him; for this war, and if he had to guess, herself.

“I’ll meet you at Minton’s as soon as I’m back.” He had assured her, thumb swiping under her cheek to catch the first tear.

“You promise?”

He hated to make promises when the future was so uncertain for them, but, this was Josephine and he would be damned if he didn’t attempt to make her smile one more time before he got on that train.

“I’ll do you one better,” He grinned, holding out his right hand. “I pinky promise you, I’ll be at Minton’s, waiting for you.”

It was as close as he could get to saying ‘I Love You’.

Jo grinned, hooking the pinky of her own hand with his, just as the conductor yelled the last call for passengers.

“I’ll be waiting for your letters…” he had whispered, pulling her close once more. “With bated breath, Jo.”

“Not nearly as much as I’ll be waiting for yours,” She sniffled softly before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Come home to me in one piece, Robbie, please.”

That had been then. Before Thorpe Abbotts, Rosie's Riveters, twenty-five successful missions and reupping for a second tour. Before he had bailed out over Russia, before the horrors of Nuremberg and a hell of a journey back to base. He often thought back to that night after he had returned to East Anglia, sitting in the Officers Club with Croz, wondering if they were becoming the monsters they had been sent to fight.

No, they hadn’t become the monsters, but he had felt that the longer he was away from home the more he lost bits and pieces of himself from the ‘before’ and had to learn to live with the Robert Rosenthal of ‘after’. Would she like the ‘after’. The thought entered his mind so quickly, he almost missed it. Hell, he was still processing it all, and as he turned back to face the bar for a refill, his gaze caught on the entrance of the club.

There she was, his Jo, purse clutched in her hands as she looked around the crowded room for a familiar face. Dark brown eyes scanning over the bodies packed in like sardines, brown curls immaculately pinned up, bright red lips pursed in concentration. Abandoning his empty glass, he smoothed a hand over his curls, straightened his jacket, and pushed off the bar. Weaving his way through the throngs of people, he kept his gaze locked on her, as his feet carried him across the floor.

Rosie felt everything around him fade into a dull buzz as soon as her eyes found his. He pushed his way to the edge of the crowd, finally coming to a stop in front of her. Now, face to face, Rosie and Jo could do nothing more than stare at each other. Neither wanted to be the first to speak, to break the bubble around them, but both felt compelled to do something.

“I promised, didn’t I?” Rosie broke the silence with a smile.

He just barely made out his name falling from her lips before she was in his arms. He caught her with ease and held on tight. It was proof that she was real, that he was home, and there was nothing to fear as they stood at the entrance to Minton’s. Nobody spared them a glance as they sidestepped the couple, a sort of mutual understanding as so many others reunited under the same roof.

“Let me look at you,” Jo had pulled away first, but only letting go of him enough to let her hands slide down his arms to take his. “Home in one piece I see.

“As requested,” Rosie grinned, giving her delicate hands a squeeze. “And as promised.”

“You know better than anyone, that to break a pinky promise is as good as treason, Robert Rosenthal.”

“And you should know that I don’t make pinky promises with just anyone, Josephine Harris.”

“Well, now that we’ve settled that…” she trailed off, a teasing grin on her lips as Rosie began to guide her towards where he had spotted an empty table near the back. Close enough to get to the dance floor when they were ready, but far enough back that they could talk and still hear each other over the din of music and other patrons.

“Are dirty martinis still your poison, or did that change while I was gone?”

“Nothing’s changed,” she looked up at him as if to reassure him that it wasn’t just her cocktail order that remained the same, but the sentiments they exchanged in their numerous letters while he had been over in England. “Everything is exactly as you left it.”

In lieu of a response, he pulled out the chair for her, holding it steady as she slid gracefully into the offered seat, before moving to the chair across from hers.

Instead of sitting, Rosie moved the empty chair next to the one Jo was currently occupying, so that he could sit closer to her, as opposed to having the table between them. Once he was happy with the placement, he lowered himself into the vacant space, body turned at an angle so he could face his companion. He just barely caught a waiter moving in their direction, and flagged the gentleman down, promptly ordering Jo her aforementioned martini, and another scotch for himself. Once the waiter was gone, Rosie’s warm, much larger hand, covered Jo’s, his palms still rough from countless hours behind the yolk, causing him to internally wince as he felt her soft skin against his. The thought was quickly snuffed out as her hand turned upward to his, their palms meeting before her fingers intertwined with his on the table top.

“I missed you,” Jo spoke first this time, breaking the silence. “So much, Robbie.”

“I missed you too. Like you wouldn’t believe,” He admitted. “Your letters, they were the only thing I looked forward to. Just don’t tell my Ma that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Major.” She teased.

Rosie made a show of wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, mustache twitching upward as he smiled at Jo, stopping only when the waiter returned with their drinks. He watched as she lifted the martini glass to her lips; delicate fingers holding the top of the glass, nails painted a bright red, her eyes watching him over the rim as she took her first sip. He felt parched, regardless of the drink in front of him, as he watched her move with such precision and grace. Something he had missed sorely over the last few years, and fully intended on appreciating now that he could.

“Did they make it right?” He asked.

“Perfect,” She nodded, placing the glass back on the table. “Just as good as I remember.”

“It can’t have been that long since the last time you were here.” Rosie spoke, lifting his own glass to his lips.

“I haven’t been since… well, since the night before you left.”

“Minton’s is your favorite place! You mean to tell me you haven’t been here since–”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Jo finished for him.

Her confession hung in the air, Rosie both shocked but warmed at the thought that she hadn’t been here without him and that the last time she was here had been with him. That she reserved this place as something that belonged to just them. He felt there was no better time than to drop his own truth bomb; he only hoped it didn’t send her running back out the door.

“Since we’re confessing things,” He started carefully. “I uh.. I want you to know that I carried your picture with me while I was gone.”

“…you did?”

“Every day,” he nodded. “I took you on every mission with me.”

He wasn’t sure what to expect after confessing all of that to her, but the glistening of her own eyes as she looked back at him wasn’t it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what… I didn’t mean to make you cry, Jo.”

“Shush,” She spoke quickly, one finger over his lips. “You wonderful, handsome man.”

His eyebrow quirked in response. It was all he could do given that her finger was still over his lips, and she had asked him to stop talking. But he wanted to do more than just keep talking. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her silly, and then take her on the dance floor and spin her around until they were both giddy and dizzy and drunk on each other. And then he wanted to kiss her some more. All too gently, he took her hand in his, moved it away from his lips, and carefully tugged her towards him until she was close enough for him to wrap her up in his arms.

“I should have kissed you that day at the train station,” Rosie started. “I was convinced you wouldn’t want me the same way I wanted you, and there were so many what-if’s, and then I was leaving. Truth be told, I should have kissed you long before the train station.”

“I’ve always been yours, Robbie,” She smiled. “We just took the scenic route.”

And then there was silence, save for the gasp that Jo let loose as Rosie’s lips finally descended on hers. Firm, yet gentle, and with the slight tickle of his mustache, he poured every ounce of himself into making sure she knew just how much he loved her without words. Because the words had been written in many letters over the course of years; phrased with care and longing for each other, a desire that grew much like stoking the flames of a campfire until it reached the point of blazing uncontrollably and there was no turning back. For Rosie and Jo, the fire burned and neither cared to put it out, or attempt to quell the flames.

When they finally pulled apart, the need for oxygen too great to withstand, neither could stop their smiles from growing. There it was. Their love for the ages, that they had planted, grown and nurtured during the days of war, was finally seen blooming under the dim lighting of Minton’s Jazz Club.

“I love you, Jo.”

“I love you too,” She grinned. “More than I could have ever said in any letter.”

“Yet somehow, I always knew. I wonder how that happened.” He teased her, leaning forward to press his lips to hers again.

The smart remark she had been ready to dish his way died on her lips as the band began playing a song that had Rosie tapping out a beat, eyes widening with mirth as he grabbed Jo’s hand and stood, pulling her up with him.

“Come on, pretty girl, let's dance!”

He led them through the crowd of people until they reached the dance floor, and then he found them a spot where he could hold her close and spin her in his arms until his heart's content. The band played on, an Artie Shaw tune that had Rosie laughing to himself as he thought back to the sound of his crew imitating him as they sat around the poker table at the Flak House, way back when. It was a story he had only briefly shared in a letter that he had written from Coombe House during a night he couldn’t find sleep. But now, the sounds of Artie Shaw brought him a smile, as the woman in his arms smiled back at him.

The band moved into a slower song, and Rosie pulled Jo closer, pressing their bodies together as they moved together, cheek to cheek.

“You really took my picture with you on every flight?” She spoke quietly, her voice for his ears only.

“I did,” Rosie nodded. “I kept it in my jacket, close to me. Except for that one time.”

“You know… when your mother got that telegram from the War Department that you had gone down, she ran down the block to our house so I could read it.”

“Oh honey…”

“I refused to believe you had left me without a proper chance at us. Selfish as it may seem, I couldn’t picture my life without you.”

“You won’t have to; not now, or ever. I promise, I’m not going anywhere ever again where you can’t go too.”

“Pinky promise?”

“More than that,” He grinned, before pressing his lips to her own. When they pulled apart they couldn’t help the smiles that took hold. “We can seal this one with a kiss.”

Read Part 2 Here

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

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@winniemaywebber @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @rowdy-redhead @sagesolsticewrites @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd

[winniemaywebber]

It's Been A Long, Long Time: Lover, Come Back

Harry Crosby x Jean Crosby

There's a surprise waiting in the mail for Jean Crosby - the news of her husband returning home a four week furlough. How ever much happiness this brings her, she must contend with the sadness of her best friend and roommate, Jo, who is facing the harsh realities of her own sweetheart, Rosie, reupping rather than returning home to her.

A warm evening breeze sweeps past Jean and Josephine as they begin the short walk home from the bus stop. It was finally Friday, the two girls looking forward to a couple days of rest over the weekend. They liked to keep one weekend a month free of any plans, where they could just laze about the house in their pajamas and rejuvenate before entering the workforce reality again on Monday morning - this weekend, the final one of June, was the one they’d chosen for the month, both of them greatly looking forward to it.

As they approach the brown brick house in the middle of a neat cul-de-sac, Jean spots the flag at mast on the mailbox. “Get the mail, doll,” she smirks, knowing Jo was practically chomping at the bit for the next letter from her love. Robert Rosenthal had just re-upped, separating the couple for much longer than Jo had initially envisioned, the subject always covered with disdain and sharp words whenever it was brought up. Jean knew by now to avoid it unless Jo herself sounded off about it.

With a heavy sigh, she silently hands the stack of mail to her companion after quickly rifling through it, hoping to spot that familiar scrawled penmanship on an envelope. “Not today,” Jo says through subtly gritted teeth, holding her hand out for the keys and unlocking the door before throwing her purse on to the telephone table. “It’s been two weeks, what on Earth could he be doing? Do you think the letter simply got lost?”

“No, dear,” she sighs. “You know mail has been a little slow lately, maybe it’s just taking its time to get here from England.”

“You don’t think…” she gulps, pausing with the fear that grips her throat, “you don’t think he’s the one that is lost, do you?”

“Goodness, Jo, darling,” Jean comforts, wrapping her arm around her friend’s heaving shoulders as she sits down on one of the dining chairs. “Sweetheart, you know Binger would contact us at the first sign of any trouble like that, hm?”

“I guess,” Jo shrugs. “Get it over with then. What do you have?”

Jean flips through the envelopes, spotting the only other handwriting that’s familiar to her. Jo sees it too, her eyes widening with fear as they fill with tears.

“Now, doll,” Jean says, trying her best to keep a calm voice. “I’m sure it’s just him writing to me to tell me the goings on on base. Breathe, Josephine.”

“Mhm,” she nods, her brow furrowed with the effort of speaking through a closed throat. Jean tears the letter from its envelope and begins to read.

“Mrs Crosby,

I’ll be on my way home to you next week. I’ll be with you for four weeks and I can hardly wait.

See you in New York.

Binger.”

Jean’s mouth drops open, trying to formulate words that won’t come out.

“Well?” Jo urges, eyes darting across her friend’s face to gauge any emotion. “What is it?!”

“He’s–he’s…”

“Spit it out, Mrs Croz.”

“He’s coming home!” Jean squeals, the information finally sinking in and causing her to emphatically jump up and down, her heels clacking on the kitchen floor. It’s when she stops to smile at Jo that she sees her face fall, hand on her chest to steady the ragged breaths she’s pushing from her body. “Jo? Oh, darling. Come here.”

“Should be me hugging you, not the other way around,” she sobs, dampening Jean’s dress. She gulps and sniffs, Jean pulling a chair from the head of the table to sit next to her. “I’m sorry, I really am happy for you, it’s just–”

“I wasn’t being fair,” she says with a shake of her head. “Being that excited wasn’t right of me.”

“No! You should be excited; you’re about to see your husband after two years. It’s just…I don’t know, Jean. I’m so…”

“Angry?”

“Yes!” she blurts out, wiping at her face angrily. “How could he sacrifice the future we’ve been planning together because he’s just so prideful? It makes me so mad. So disgustingly mad.”

“I know,” Jean soothes, holding Jo’s head to her. “But at least you’ll worry less with Bing around.”

“How?” Jo replies, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“He won’t lie to you. He’ll tell you what’s what. The truth about how Robert is truly coping.”

“That’ll help, I guess, but–”

“But you’d rather have him home,” Jean interjects. “To dance with at Minton’s and go home together.”

Jo nods sadly, fresh tears springing into her eyes. “I just want my Robbie home with me,” she weeps, whimpering like a small child.

“I know, darling. I know.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Jo sniffs. “I really am happy for you, Jean. When will he be here?”

Jean pulls the letter out again, eyes rushing over the words. “Next week,” she nods. “Wants me to meet him in the city.”

Jo looks over at the note in her hand, scanning over it herself. She inhales, bracing herself for the reaction to what she’s about to suggest. “I’ll call Jules in the morning.”

“Whatever for?” Jean screeches, eyes narrowing.

“I can’t be here while you and Harry, you know…” she pauses, lips purse to try and hold in a juvenile giggle. “Make up for lost time.”

Jean releases the most girlish little giggle that causes Jo to break into the same laughter, the two girls holding each other as the amusement peels off them.

“While you’re correct - we absolutely will be doing that - it isn’t fair that you should have to go somewhere else. This is your home, Jo.”

“I’ll come right back after Harry has returned, mark my words. But, I don’t want to hear, well…all that making up for lost time!”

“No, no, I get it. You have to promise me you’ll come home though. Please?”

“Darling, I promise. Aside from Robbie, you are my person.”

“And you’re mine, too.”

***

With a heavy sigh, Jean exits her eerily empty house. When she had asked Jo to move in with her all those months ago, she could never have imagined an outcome where she was alone again after so long. Part of her understood why Jo had left, agreeing with the idea that the Crosbys needed some much deserved alone time after much time apart. However, the part that she hated was this; the underlying, constant loneliness until Bing was home with her again.

Josephine had kept to her word, calling Jules the day after the pair had received Jean’s good news. She had also received a call from Vika - the girl now an integral part of their little group since they’d met at the beach - offering Josephine a few nights at her family’s hotel.

“It’ll be like a holiday,” Vika had teased, sipping at a weak martini. “It’ll be fun, a way for us to get to know each other a little better.” Jo had agreed emphatically, Jean even spending a night there with her to have a little time with the girls before the big day.

Jean spots the girls waiting at the bus stop the moment the brakes of the vehicle hiss, them all waving at one another so enthusiastically that Jean is sure all their arms may drop off. They greet one another with a girlish, juvenile squeal, the girls pulling Jean into a tight embrace. Shouts of “Hi, Mrs Crosby!” and “Eeee, the big day is tomorrow,” echo across the busy city streets as they begin their jaunt to their favorite dress shop.

***

“Remind me again which ones you liked best in the magazine?” Jo asks as she picks through racks of beautiful dresses. She finds one that Jean falls in love with instantly: a mulberry swing dress with a sweetheart neckline.

“I don’t think I need to,” Jean exhales, taking the dress from her friend. “This is gorgeous.”

“So very you, my girl,” she smiles, going back to the rack in front of her. The hangars scrape as she leafs through, a furrow upon her concentrated brow. “Is it too premature to find one for when Robbie comes home?”

Jules seems to have the same idea, rifling through a discount rack at the back of the store as Jean scouts around to find where the dressing rooms are located. Jules holds a dress up to her body, sashaying this way and that in front of Vika.

“What do you think?” she asked, a worried tone to her voice.

“Hm, not really your color, Juliet. How about…” Vika rifles through the rack herself, finding a beautiful light green a-line dress that she knows will compliment her friend perfectly. “This?”

“Vika, you’re a dream,” she compliments, admiring how the color brings out her eyes. “Aren’t you looking for something?”

“Me?” she laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t have a sweetheart to dress up for, you know that.”

“Why don’t we find you one?” Jean asks, pulling the velvet curtain back on an unoccupied stall. “I’m sure one of the boys’ friends will be raring to have a date with you.”

“My goodness, yes!” Jo replies, eyes lighting up for the first time in a week. “Say, who was the man Olive mentioned in her first letter to you, Jules? Douglass and someone? Benjamin?”

“Bernard. Benny Demarco.”

“That’s the one!”

“I’m sure he’d love that. He’s with Johnny right now…” At the mention of his name, the reminder of where he is waiting out the remainder of this dreadful war, Jules suddenly lets out a little weep. “Sorry, girls, it’s just…sometimes I just forget and it all comes flooding back to me.”

“Oh, darling,” Jo coos, holding her. “I understand.”

“We all do,” Jean squeaks, making herself scarce behind the heavy drape. Once in there, she herself lets a thick cry escape her throat, covering her mouth to muffle the sound. Of course she understands; those endless nights without her husband, waiting for a phone call or a sweet love letter - though those had become scarce these last few months. She can’t stop the tears falling down her rouged cheeks, mascara falling down her face in thick, black trails as she pulls her chosen gown on her tense body.

“Jean?” Jo calls, her voice still wavering with emotion.

“Yeah?” Jean croaks in reply, her voice cracking again. “Be right out.”

Before she can wipe her face and make her exit, Jo scrapes back the curtain to find her friend in a hell of a mess: eyes puffy and swollen, lips red from where she had bitten them to keep the wails at bay, a stress rash attacking her pale neck. “Jean, whatever is it?”

“I don’t know, I just feel–I feel like an imposter. And I feel like I’ve let you all down and–”

“Oh my goodness, darling, come here.” Jo scoops Jean up from almost falling, sitting down with her on the dressing room floor.

“I feel like I’ve failed you all.”

“Now, what on Earth are you talking about?”

“Here’s me saying I understand how you and Jules feel, yet what are we here for? To find me a pretty dress for my husband’s furlough. I feel like I just should keep my mouth shut. I feel so unfair towards you both and–”

“Now, Jean, that’s enough,” Jo replies sternly. “You are not to feel this way, do you understand? We are so happy for you, can’t you see that?” Jean nods, sniffing and wiping her tears away. “Of course we are a little envious - as would you be if it was Robbie coming home, not your Bing. The same would be said for if John were still with the fellas and he got furlough. You see?” There is a pause as Jean nods along, trying to formulate a sentence without her voice faltering. “While I am excited to see Croz, I do wish it were Robbie. I keep thinking about the life we were meant to start and he chose–”

It is Jean’s turn to comfort her friend, holding her close as they both weep together. “Look at the state of us,” Jean laughs, sniffling. “What a sight.”

“Yeah, well,” Jo weeps, pulling a handkerchief from her purse. “Nobody else I’d rather cry with, hon.”

“Me, too.”

“You’re my other half, Jean. Robbie is absolutely my soul mate, but you? Well, I thank this ghastly war for putting us together. You’re my person, Mrs Crosby. I am so blissfully happy for you.”

“Ditto. Jo?”

“Yes?”

“Love you.”

“Softie…I love you, too.”

***

Jean almost collapses all over again when she hears the price of the dress. After she and Jo had calmed down, Jo had buttoned her into it. It had fit her like a glove, the material clinging to her perfectly. “Jean!” Jo had gasped, hands on her cheeks. “You’ve got to have it!”

Now checking out, the price had taken Mrs Crosby aback just a tad. Rummaging in her purse for extra cash, Jo pointedly lays down a stack of notes. “Had a bit of a whip round,” she winks, placing a hand on top of Jean’s to stop her panicking. “It’s from all of us.”

“Josephine!” she gasps, clinging to her. “And girls, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, doll,” Jules replies. “I know Harry will fall to his knees the moment he sees you in that. Dare I say, you won’t be wearing it for long.”

“Juliet!” Vika urges, giggling nonetheless.

“What? Am I wrong?”

“Let’s hope not!” Jean replies, taking the dress’ garment bag from the teller. “Come on, I need a drink.”

***

The girls arrive back at Vika's family’s hotel just before nightfall, Jean carefully uncovering the hidden martini ingredients from her suitcase. “Sure is hard to keep cocktail making quiet,” she laughs as there is a sudden rap on the door.

“Shit,” Juliet giggles, stashing the bottles under the blankets. The four of them laugh like schoolgirls at a sleepover, Jean laying across the smuggled alcohol as Vika answers the door, shushing her friends.

“You need to stop!” she whispers, trying to be stern but the tone is cracked with a fit of giggles, Vika covering her mouth to stifle the laughter. “Girls, stop it, I’m going to crack a rib!” She waves her hand in front of them all, them all hushing immediately.

“Mammi,” she greets, her voice going an octave higher.

“Ruthvika,” she says, nodding towards the girls. “Please remember to keep it down, yes? We still have guests.”

“Yes, mammi, of course.”

Mrs Patel looks between her daughter and the girls, beginning to speak in Gujarati as her glance carries on going between them all. “Okay?” she finishes, walking towards the door. Vika nods again, running to open the door for her.

“Goodnight, Mrs Patel,” the girls all chorus, their warmth seeming to envelope the room. Jean can see that Vika feels it, her body seeming to relax the moment they speak.

“Goodnight, girls,” she replies, smiling at them.

Vika closes the door before leaning against it, exhaling and holding her chest dramatically. “That was close.”

“Sure was, doll,” Jules giggles, the bottles clanging as she pulls the blanket back. “Now, who’s up for a drink? We need to have one for our Mrs Crosby, who we are so excited for.”

“We certainly are,” Jules replies, holding on to Jean’s hand and grinning at her. “We love you, Mrs Croz. Truly.”

“And I love you all, too. So much.”

***

“This is it,” Jo says, as she and the group hear the whistle of a train in the distance. “Now, have you got everything?”

“I think so,” Jean replies, her voice tiny, tight and anxious. She chews at the inside of her mouth with worry, the nausea beginning to settle in with each moment the train draws closer.

“Enough of that, Mrs Croz,” Jo scolds as she sees her friend's eyes glaze over and continuously bite her lips. “You'll make yourself bleed.”

“Speaking of having everything,” Jules perks up, “do you have a book for the journey, doll?”

“I don't,” she squeaks, remembering the rushed packing she had done days ago. “I didn't even think of anything like that.”

“Well, luckily for you, I did!” She triumphantly smiles, pulling a small paperback out of her purse. “Thought you'd enjoy this one. It's one of my favorites - Olive’s too.”

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Jean reads, stroking the titled cover. “Thank you, Juliet. So much.”

“And this is from Mammi,” Vika joins, handing her a small paper bag. “In case you get hungry on the way.”

“Oh, girls. Thanks ever so.”

The four of them look between one another, an awkward silence hanging in the air as Jean and Jo catch each other's eye.

“Come on, Ruthie,” Jules says, taking her by the arm. “Let's go wait inside, yes?”

“Fantastic idea. Bye, Jean!”

With Jean and Jo left alone for the first time in days, it takes everything in Jean to not break out into sobs. A moment of silence passes between them, the pair seemingly lost for words for the first time their entire friendship. Jean opens her mouth to say something, distracted by Jo pulling her into a tight hug.

“Have the most wonderful time, Mrs Croz.”

“Jo…I–I'm so sorry.”

“Enough of that, darling. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But…”

“No buts, lady. I'll see you soon, okay?”

“I'll miss you so much.”

“I'll miss you, too. But, believe me, this is a good thing,” she sighs, pulling out of the hug, but keeping her hands on Jean’s shoulders. “For both of us.”

“All aboard!”

Jo hands Jean her suitcases, Jean planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Love you, doll.”

“Love you more.”

***

The train carriage feels stiflingly hot, Jean removing every layer she possibly can while trying her best to look calm. Her jacket is flung onto the seat next to her, followed by her silk scarf and pretty gloves, sweat dripping down her back and making her unable to get comfortable in the plush seat. She tells herself to try and keep breathing, taking shaky inhales and exhaling them as the train chugs on. Jean pays no mind to the scenery zooming past. It has all suddenly become so real, the reality weighing on her that she is about to see her husband for the first time in years.

Would he still love her? she wonders, as she pulls the book Jules gave her from her bag. Would he still think she’s pretty? Would he even be the same man? She wasn’t the same woman, that much was certain - she felt she had grown in great strides since he had shipped out, learning so much about herself in the time they had been apart.

The words begin to blur together on the page, Jean barely able to make a sentence string together in her mind by the time the train stops. The conductor calls out their location: “This is Grand Central Station. This stop is Grand Central Station.”

She feels the nerves bubbling up in her gut, the butterflies causing her to become weak at the knees and she hopes they can hold her up long enough to disembark the train carriage. As her foot touches the ground of the platform, she cranes her head up in the hopes of spotting Bing on the platform, the station seemingly the busiest it’s ever been on today of all days.

It’s when she cuts through a group congregating around a bench that she spots him in the distance - his hair looks different: slicked back to the side, his usually tousled curls combed into some new found submission, not tumbling down his forehead carelessly like they used to. He stands taller, hands less fidgety and his aura less anxious. Jean finds herself frozen to the spot, jagged breaths leaving her parted lips as she takes him in for the first time in what feels like forever. She’s not even sure she recognizes him at first; his sweet face is a little more aged from the stress and horrors he’s endured since leaving for England. But it’s his eyes - those big, brown, downturned cow eyes that send her heart aflutter and make her brain register that it’s really him. Those same eyes light up in recognition, his mouth slightly agape as she sees his chest fall at the sight of her after all these years.

She begins to run, closing the smallest space that’s been between them in years and leaps into his arms.

“Darling,” she weeps, her throat closing as tears fall onto him. “Darling, darling,” she repeats, her arms wound tightly around his neck.

“Jean…oh, Jean,” he murmurs into her, holding her just as tightly. “Let me look at you.”

He places her down on the ground gently, as if he were touching a precious antique. “My goodness, Mrs Crosby,” he says, taking her chin in his hand. “I could just kiss the face off you.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she giggles, the sound cut off by her husband’s mouth capturing hers in a tender kiss, neither of them wanting it to cease.

“I love you,” he murmurs into her mouth, never breaking the affection. “I’m sorry I ever went away.”

“I love you, Binger,” she replies, kissing him over and over, not caring who is watching. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @blakelysco-pilot @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @archival-hogwash @lestweforget5 @butterfly9012 @ptvstvrrr

[sagesolsticewrites]

Meet Ruthvika “Ruthie” Patel 🪔

Name: Ruthvika Patel

Age: 26

Birthplace: Harlem, Manhattan

Home: Lynbrook, New York

Star Sign: Virgo

Born to immigrant parents from India, Ruthvika Patel— Ruthie to… well, pretty much everyone with a (ahem) lighter complexion—  is doing her best to find happiness in a life stuck working to keep her parents’ hotel afloat. Her one solace is coming back in contact with her old school friend, Juliet Thompson. And when Juliet invites her along to a celebration of her engagement to one John Brady, who is she to refuse?

A certain husky barreling into her legs as she wanders the streets of New York, utterly lost, leads to a chance encounter with pilot Bernard “Benny” DeMarco. Swept off her feet by his charm and kindness, quiet Ruthie is lovingly tugged along into her friend’s little family, and she has… absolutely no idea what to do.

A fairly sheltered life has left her unprepared for the friendships she finds in the girls— her new friends Olive, Val, Jo, and Jean all seem eager to fit her into their little gang, though with her accent and noticeably caramel complexion, fitting in in 1940’s New York has never been her strong suit. And she has even less of a clue how to handle the attentions of a certain pilot; how does she know that the fluttering in her chest isn’t how all girls feel around a good male friend? It’s not as if she has any experience in that area. And even if she could admit her feelings to herself, she has no guarantee he feels the same. The true obstacle, though, are her parents: traditional, conservative, Gujarati, the Patels will have no part of a white man attempting to court their good Indian daughter.

In stepping out from the shadows of her quiet life, Ruthie is pulled along into the sunshine with her new friends, with a guarantee that no matter what happens, her little life will never be the same.

Part 1 of Ruthie’s story is coming soon! 👀

@winniemaywebber @ginabaker1666

[blakelysco-pilot]

Book Club gals doing book club things!

Come on by and meet the ladies of the men of the 100th BG.

Meet Josephine Harris

Meet Valencia DiRosano

Come on down to sagesolsticewrites for a proper introduction to my darling OCs! A labor of love with my besties (@winniemaywebber @ginabaker1666) I’ve loved creating this little universe with them 🥰 make sure to check out their girlies’ bios as well to meet the entire Book Club gang!

Juliet’s intro 🤍

Ruthie’s intro 🪔

[creeppiest]

josephine aldane, b. 19 october 1980 ➝ daughter of joseph and evangeline aldane, the spare

[bowlerhatwearer]

OC Ship List

Ships between @pan-fried-autism's OCs and mine

Grementine Mewton x Nikolai Akdow

Jack Harris x Leonid Akdow

Julie Harris x Leonid Akdow (Swap AU)

Ships between @northerngrail's OCs and mine

Alistair Byron x Ian Snapshot

Blitz Krieg x Weregeld Schein

Devi Brillianti x Nikolai Akdow (formerly)

Devi Brillianti x Kathrina Akdow

Blitz Krieg x Phil and Flint Morisson x Aeolus Piston x Page x Weregeld Schein

Blitz Krieg x Weregeld Schein

Floyd Sigma x Quintus Imperium

Josephine Krieg x Lupus Bytes

Keith Whitehead x Horace Wings

Maryjane Doe x Albert Clear

Peng Li x Vasily Akdow

Phil and Flint Morrison x Weregeld Schein

[hyzenthlayroseart]

Eileen and Cleo with their daughters, Cleo's parents and Jojo celebrating Christmas together.

[usuallythebadguy]

Seeking RP or collaborative fanficing!

Looking for RP partners/new pals, SFW/NSFW/Evolving, Short/Long term, play by post or chat form. These are my favourite worlds and characters to play AS or AGAINST. Of course, I'm open to many other characters also. I have no hard limits, can play dominantly or submissively as any oc and am adaptable to any ideas, concepts or pairings.

I have plenty of plot ideas, but I'm just as excited about catering to yours. Likewise, as much as I love canon pairings, I also love OCs and will happily romance or befriend your characters of any kind.

I love playing morally ambiguous bad guys and crazies but can be a perfect angel when needed. I'm nonbinary and in my thirties. While not necessary, would love to rp with people my age. Like mentioned, sfw and nsfw rps are fine! I have no hard limits, but am respectful of my rp partners! Also, potentially interested in doing fanfics with others, cuz that's cool too. I especially love slow burn long term rp <3

Arcane: Silco, Victor, Sevika, Singed, Vi, Jynx Deathnote: L, Light, Mastuda, Mikami, Mass Effect: Mordin, Jack, Wrex, Jaal Skyrim: Cicero, Derkeethus, Veezara, Lucian, Vicente Dragon Age: Cole, Varric, Sten, Josephine, Merrill Baldur’s Gate: Astarion, Abdirak, Kar'niss, Lae'zel, Karlach, Gale Steven Universe: Jasper Detroit Become Human: Connor, Hank, Inside Job: Rand, Reagan Hannibal TV Series: Will, Hannibal She Ra: Hordak, Entrapta, Scorpia Horizon Zero Dawn: Aloy, Erand, Kotallo, Nil Encanto: Bruno, Camilo Kipo: Jamack, Kipo, Hugo Simpsons: Flanders, Smithers, Bob, Skinner Rick & Morty: Rick, Morty, Jerry, Summer, Beth MLP: Discord, Queen Chrysalis Avatar: Zuco, Lin Beifong, Soka Harry Potter: Snape, Fallout: Cooper Howard, Norm, Lucy, Farcry: Joseph Seed, Supernatural: Castiel, Sam, Dean Snow Piercer: Melanie, Bess The Witcher: Geralt, Yennefer, Jaskier Vikings: Ragnar, Athelstan, Lagertha Stardew: Shane, Linus, Sebastian

[cutesykeito]

My OCs in Yaelokre

(They're originally side-by-side in the same drawing, but I don't like how it looks enough to post it. They also look a lot better in person.)

These are my OCs, Virgil with the raccoon mask, and Josephine with the rabbit. They are not Yaelokre OCs.

Here is a simplified version of an explanation to some of the story, and why I spent about ten hours drawing them as Yaelokre.

But first, please note that while I enjoy Marvel, this was not inspired by the MCU, as at the time of creation (around 2019-2020), I had no idea that the MCU multiverse was a thing.

In this story I've created, the multiverse is a thing. The universe that Virgil and Josephine are from is the only universe where they exist. Virgil discovered he has the ability to travel between universes, but for now, he only can when he's asleep. In each universe, Virgil and Josephine's outfits and sometimes appearances change to fit what they would've been like had they been born there. However, Virgil's purple and black striped scarf is the only thing that never changes.

While I'm still working on the main story, I like to take my characters and picture what they would look like in other fandoms, aka, universes. It's really fun to imagine that in one universe where Harry Potter is just a series, it's a reality in another, and these two are the only ones who travel around and accidentally find these things out.

[ofxendless]

Oooop have another post

Hi! You can call me C, I go by she/her, and below is some info about me.

• I’m 25 and I will only interact with those over 21.

• My tumblr will seemingly always and forever screw me over and not show me messages properly, so please feel free to head straight to my discord at cee98x

• I’ve been roleplaying since what feels like forever. I started super young one summer before school started up, and I’ve been on-and-off ever since. I began in roleplay groups roleplaying Harry Potter, then got really into The Vampire Diaries-verse, and have also enjoyed Percy Jackson, supernatural town, royal rpgs, and a bunch I’ve popped into over the years so am open to different things.

• I do come from a land down under *cue the flute*. So AEST timezone, but my schedule is alll over a lot of the time.

• I’m looking to rp over discord. Fair warning, I am still getting the hang of rping on there and I have no idea how to do real fancy stuff but I’m a quick learner so we’ll be fine. I still feel like it was yesterday when I dragged my feet big time transferring from roleplaying on facebook to tumblr. Ah, time flies.

• I’m a very easy going person! Your length, I’ll match. Your ideas? I’ll pretty much lap up everything. Hate fandom rp? Cool not an issue at all! Hate oc rps and prefer fandom? Wicked! If I don’t know the lore well, I can try to wing it! Struggling to get a reply out? No stress! I’m well passed putting so much pressure onto things that they feel like a chore. I’d love to chat about our ships and discuss fc’s and get excited and really have some fun!

• I play mostly female muses! I know, I’m so terribly cliche, but I am pretty meh with male muses. Although, it’s been a long time since I’ve given it a go and I’m always happy to compromise! Very much wanting sapphic plots too!!

• I’m open to smut and most ideas! Don’t like super dark kinks or anything too out there but, again, always willing to try new things within reason! Plot and smut should be balanced. I also have no triggers.

• Some fandoms I’d be interested to rp if that was your jam would include The Vampire Diaries, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, True Blood, Teen Wolf, The Umbrella Academy, Bridgerton, The Sandman, Doctor Who, and I’m sureee there’s more I am forgetting. This also includes creating OC’s set in any of these universes.

• Some themes I’d loveee to explore include supernatural/fantasy/paranormal, enemies to lovers, best friends to lovers, boss/employee or professor/student, soul mate/ride or die/meant to be, fwb, ewb, age gap (legal!), horror, crime, mystery, and soo much more honestly

• Face claims I’d die to use include Renee Rapp, Emily Bader, Maia Reficco, Madison Iseman, Anya Taylor Joy, Camila Mendes, Elisha Applebaum, Hannah Dodd, Sadie Soverall, Adelaide Kane, Anya Chalotra, Simone Ashley, Josephine Langford, Danielle Rose Russell, Abigail Cowen, Conor Leslie and Zaria Simone

• Fave opposites include all of the above and more, Matthew Daddario, Noah Centineo, Robbie Amell, Henry Cavill, Rege-Jean Page, Aria Shaghasemi, Ross Butler, Jacob Elordi, Glen Powell

I’m really after some big romance plots, open to literally an array of ideas!! Love supernatural/fantasy plots, enemies to lovers, best friends to lovers, soul mate, slice of life, and anything that will give me something to obsess over thanks xxx

[blakelysco-pilot]

These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)

From the Love Letter Series Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

The realities of Rosie's choice to reup for a second tour hit hard for Jo when Harry Crosby is granted furlough. She must learn to navigate the ugly emotions that come with the situation while simultaneously being there for Jean who is going through her own set of emotions at her husbands temporary return. With the help of friends, Jo is able to find the brighter side of it all, with a renewed hope for her future. Meanwhile, Rosie must deal with the guilt of his decision.

Read part 7 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

It comes in many forms; jealousy isn’t always the green eyed demon that’s depicted in books and movies. Sometimes, it comes as pain. As sadness. Desire, strangely enough. Jo could feel the emotions taking turns, and after they had all run their course, guilt would take over.  

The guilt that she was a terrible friend to Jean, who was over the moon with the news of Harry’s impending furlough. Her best friend who had desired no more than to be in the arms of her husband for the duration of his time away at war, was getting her wish. So then why was she having to remind herself every day to be happy for her? Because it was Harry on his way to New York, and not Rosie? Because she couldn’t understand how after devoting himself to the cause, to signing up for a second tour of duty, didn’t he also deserve a moment of reprieve in the safety of his own home. 

The last letter she had received from him had come shortly after the mail that had included news of Harry’s temporary return. It was clouded in sadness, despite his happiness for his friend. She could feel his desire to be home, the emotions palpable on the page. So much that she hadn’t told Jean of the letter. She had simply read it in the quiet of her room at night, hoping to keep her tears from falling too loudly. 

Could she stand to be here while Harry was home? To see them reuniting, softly, sweet nothings whispered to Jean in passing, her gentle laughter as Harry pulled her into a hug just because he was close. Because he could. She had decided she would leave for the duration of Harry’s furlough. She could return to her parents for the four weeks, but something in her kept saying that four weeks would crawl if she were to go home. So, she had resolved to call Juliet Thompson in the morning. Her friend upstate was still on summer holiday, and she had a feeling she could use the company as much as she could- John Brady was still being held POW, and whenever the thought crossed her mind, Jo couldn’t help but feel guilt all over again. Rosie was safe in England, and she was beyond grateful for it. 

The next morning felt like you could cut the tension with a knife. The days to Harry’s return were drawing near, and while Jo tried her best, she could feel the inevitable dark cloud looming overhead; she had begged for it to not creep in onJean’s good mood, but when she joined her friend for coffee, it seemed it was looming over both of them. 

“Sleep well?” Jean looked over from the stove where the coffee was perking, a half smile on her face. 

“Alright, all things considered.”

“Humid last night…” Jean mused. 

“Slept on top of the duvet again.” Jo half laughed, knowing even if they weren’t tiptoeing around the inevitable, she’d have been a tad grumpy over the heat. 

“Me too…” Jean turned, bringing the now finished pot to the table, placing it on the trivet. “Not even a breeze.”

“We want a breeze, we need to go back to Brooklyn, Jean.”

“That’s a hike,” she had set about pouring their coffee, hands staying busy. “Don’t know how you did it for so long before moving in here.”

Jo blanches at the mention of her living there, still not quite sure how to tell Jean that she’s going to be leaving while her husband is home. Guilt, again. 

“Jo?”

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t touched your coffee, are you okay?”

“Oh, yes…no… I’m fine.”

“Yes no?”

“Jean… I think it's best that while Harry is home, I’m not here.”

“What! Josephine, this is your home!”

“When Harry is away, yes, but your husband is coming home, Jean, and that does not require a third party awkwardly bumbling around.”

“You could never,” Jean practically cried from her seat across from Jo. “You would never be an awkward third party to me, or Bing! We both love you Jo.”

“I love you both terribly,” Jo was trying so hard to keep the tears at bay. “But he’s your husband. You both have been apart for so long, Jean. You deserve privacy.”

“But…what if he doesn’t…” Jean burst into tears, the Harry that had left for the war was someone Jean Crosby wasn’t sure she knew anymore, and it scared her. 

“Oh honey, no, don’t think that! You know Harry is so thrilled to be coming back to you, even if it is only temporary.”

“I’m not sure what to do anymore… I’m a wife but; I haven’t felt like one in so long.”

“You will both just have to take some time to get reacquainted.”

“And you? Will you go back to your parents?”

“I think I’ll call Jules first, and pay her a visit if she’s up to it.”

“Oh she’d love that!”

“Besides, the idea of four weeks at home with my parents after being here seems dreadfully boring.”

“Your mother would dote on you being home, you know that.”

“Dote or smother?” Jo raised a challenging eyebrow at her friend, their laughter somehow finding a place amongst their tears. 

“Maybe a little bit of both.” Jean agreed, knowing that Jo’s mother would undoubtedly be worried from the moment she left the house each day to the moment she came home from work. 

“We still have some time before Harry gets here,” Jo gave Jean’s hands a squeeze. “Why don’t you come with me to see Jules, and we can sneak Vika away from the hotel for a day and go shopping.”

“Wonderful!”

“We can get you all sorted out for your husband, Mrs. Crosby.” 

The phone call to Jules had been easier than Jo initially thought; already missing John Brady terribly, she understood Jo’s feelings on not wanting to encroach on Jean once Harry arrived, and was happy to have the company of a friend nearby. She was thrilled to know Jean would be accompanying Jo on the journey up, and to make the two days with Jean enjoyable for all, she had called Ruthvika and asked if the three girls could stay at the hotel, promising Vika a weekend of fun and martinis. Jules’ childhood friend had been more than happy to set up a room for the girls, and even happier to know she was included in the slumber party. This would be good; it would be a bit of sunshine after a dark cloud, laughter and friendship, and just what Jo knew she needed. 

My dearest Robbie,

My sweetheart, I miss you, and I hope you’re taking care of yourself over there. We’re in quite the heatwave here in the city, and from what you’ve told me, English summers are cooler than here at home, so with that, my love I envy you. It's not all bad, though. Jean and I have taken many trips to Coney Island on the weekends, and we brought your sister with us this last time. The fourth of July fireworks were spectacular as always, and I was so glad Jeannie was able to come with us for that. 

I’m sorry to say I haven’t seen much of her since you’ve left, and even less so after I moved in with Jean. She calls on occasion, and I know she’s keeping busy with school. Your mother says she’s trying to distract herself with you being away and so, she buries herself in her coursework. I do know how that feels. Work helps to serve as a distraction during the day, but when the day is done, and Jean and I have both gone to bed, I feel that is when I miss you most. We all miss you something terrible, and in our own different ways. 

I wanted to let you know that I’ll be heading upstate for a little while, to spend some time with Juliet and Vika. I must admit, I’m not very proud of myself, but it appears I have a bit of a jealous bug as of late, hearing that Harry is on his way home to Jean for a furlough. So, to make myself scarce and not be in their way, I’ve decided to pay a visit to Juliet for two weeks, before she has to return to her classroom to get ready for the school year ahead. I will go back to my parents for the second half of the time; I do miss them and I would love to see your mother as well. 

I think being away from Jean and Harry might be for the best. Please, don’t misunderstand, I cannot wait to meet him, he’s not only my best friend's husband but he's your best friend as well, (we won’t tell Pappy I said that) so that makes him special. But Robbie, what have we done so wrong to not be granted the same good fortune? Why is it not you coming home? You’ve sacrificed so much, giving more of yourself and your life to this damn war, and yet, they can’t let you go, can they? Haven’t you done enough? Haven’t I waited long enough? Your mother and sister, don’t they deserve to have you home too? 

I feel so guilty for feeling this way, but I can’t help but want the same happiness and excitement that Jean is feeling. I regret waiting so long to tell you I love you, Robbie. Why did we wait so long? We could have been spending time in each other's arms long before, and yet we were both too stubborn to admit how we felt. Do I sound silly? I’m sure I do, all of this griping and crying when you’re over there fighting and missing home. I should be checking on you and asking how you are, and instead I’m staining this paper with tears and going on about how envious and sad I am. 

Please, love, tell me how you really are over there, or I will have to seek out Val for the truth. Has it been terribly difficult now that the invasion has passed and the fighting is well underway? I know you’re working and fighting hard, as are the rest of our friends that are with you over there. 

Love, have you written to your mother lately? I know she’s missing you as much as I am, if not more, and would do with knowing that you’re alright. Last week she was worried they weren’t feeding you enough, and had it been anyone else who said that, I may have rolled my eyes, but the way she said it had left me in stitches, Robbie. You know how your mother can be. She comes by at least once a week with my mother to check in on me and Jean, and they bring covered dishes and baked goods that they’ve managed with the rations. I think they’re afraid Jean and I are only consuming martinis. They’re half right, and I will only admit this to you, a chocolate chip cookie does pair best with the infamous Jean Crosby martini. 

We are leaving for upstate tomorrow, so I will post this first thing on my way out the door and hope it finds you soon. I’m counting down the days until this war is behind us. Until we can begin our days next to each other, and end them the same way. There is a future waiting for us, I just wish I knew when we could begin living it. Come home to me soon. 

My heart is yours forever, with all of my love always 

Jo

They packed light; still summertime and incredibly warm, they were able to get away with comfortable sundresses, and some swimsuits. They didn’t need much when they were together- Jules had said it’s the company that counts most. Vika had been a lifesaver and secured a room at her family’s hotel for Jo and Jean for the two nights that Jean would be with them before returning home. Not one to miss out, Jules had stayed as well. Squeezing into one of the beds with Vika while Jo and Jean occupied the other, it had been a slumber party just like the night at Jean and Jo’s home. Four friends laughing until their stomachs hurt, it had taken a visit from Vika’s mother to quiet them down, Jean rushing to hide the evidence of martinis that were scattered around the room. 

It had been so much fun, that Jo had begun to forget why she had made the journey in the first place; until there were three, and they were waving Jean off from the train platform, two with tears in their eyes. The realization of not knowing when their boys would be home striking hard and fast. 

“Two weeks and you’ll be back in the city, right?” Jean looked absolutely riddled with fear as she stood with her bag on the platform, Jo doing all she could to reassure her. 

“Yes,” Jo sniffled, wiping at her eyes and trying in vain not to smudge her makeup. “I promise.”

“Please, Jo. Promise you’ll be there to meet Binger.” Jean gripped her hands so tightly, her eyes wild and nervous. The last time she had seen her so scared was when news of Bubbles’ death reached home, and worry for Harry had begun seeping in like a crack in the roof. 

“I’ll be there,” she winked. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. I’ll ring Jules once I’m back home. Bing doesn’t get in until tonight… gosh I’m so nervous!”

“You’re going to see that man and forget all about how nervous you were. Now go, before you miss your train.” 

“Jo…”

She pulled her into a hug so fast, and so fiercely, that Jo barely had a moment to catch her footing before hugging Jean back. This friendship, forged in a dark time, was more than two women finding companionship while their men were away fighting. This was sisterhood, and as an only child, Jo had never known it before. The closest person in her life had always been Rosie, and now that his role in her life had shifted, Jean had seamlessly filled in that space. 

“I will see you soon, yea?”

“Yea… yes, yes you will. I’ll have a martini waiting for you.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” Jo grinned, pulling back to give her friend a smile. “Now go on, otherwise Harry will have my head for making you late.”

“Your Robbie would never forgive him.” Jean laughed, wiping at her eyes just as the conductor hollered for All Aboard! 

As the train pulled away, Jean Crosby waving from the window of the car, Jo felt herself become utterly depleted. The sadness that she had tried to ebb away at home, not divulging all of it for fear of guilt, slammed into her full force, and had it not been for Jules and Vika wrapping her up in their arms, she’d have collapsed on the spot. 

“Come now, let’s get back to the hotel,” Vika urged her, gently steering her out of the train station and back towards the car. “Mammi can make us some chai, and we can have a rest.”

“I feel terrible…”

“Terrible, sick?”

“Terrible like I’m riddled with guilt and anger and sadness.”

She doesn’t catch Vika looking over at Jules, knowing that this is more than what Mrs. Patel’s chai can fix, because only Jules knows how she’s feeling, and only Jules can be the one to talk this through with her.  

The hotel is quiet when they arrive back, and Mrs. Patel is at the front desk, a smile on her face as she watches her daughter and friends walk in, but the smile soon fades as she sees the look on Vika’s face. 

“Did Jean get off alright?” She asks, nerves lacing her normally stoic and motherly disposition. 

“She did, Mammi,” Vika replies kindly, joining her mother at the desk while Jo and Jules take a seat on the sofa meant for guests. “Can Juliet and Josephine use the apartment for a little while? I think they…well, Jean’s husband coming home hasn’t been easy for them.”

“Of course, you take them up. I will be behind with some chai and bhel puri.”

“Thank you Mammi.”

The pair on the couch sit quietly as Vika approaches, her voice soft as she speaks to both of them, but her eyes trained on Juliet. 

“Jules, why don’t you two go up to the apartment?”

“Is that…okay with your mother?”

“It’s fine,” Vika’s eyes softened at Jules’ worry over possibly invading the Patel’s personal space, the phrase bundled in her simple question. “Mammi is going to bring up some chai and snacks.”

“Oh Vika, that’s not necessary!” Jo turned to her friend, knowing full well that the hotel needed their full attention. 

“You and Jules need a moment, and I can cover the desk while Mammi is gone.”

“Yes, now you two go right up, and I’ll follow in a moment.” Mrs. Patel is standing next to them, and suddenly it’s as if their own mothers are there, ordering them to eat. 

Nodding, Jo follows Jean upstairs to the apartment, and once inside, she takes in just what it is that makes her friend Vika who she is. The decor, the smells, the homey feel, and photos. It’s all very like Vika, and Jo somehow feels like she’s invading a space not meant for her at all, despite the protests of both Vika and her mother. 

“Jules…”

“It’s just us, Jo. You can say whatever you need to.”

“I just,” the words felt trapped, caught in her throat with no way out unless she forced them up and out into the space between them. “I’m so angry!”

“You’re angry at Rosie?”

“So angry! He should be home, he flew twenty five missions. He was safe, and The Brass pulled the rug out from under all of them!”

“So that’s what happened…”

“Everyone after him needed to fly thirty missions, but his crew was safe at twenty five. He could go home, and he didn’t… he stayed… he signed up for a second tour.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s too good, and doing the right thing is what Robert Rosenthal does, and he can’t help himself. People are dying and can’t fight for themselves, so he’s doing it for them.”

“Oh Jo…” Jules rushed towards her friend. Instantly, her arms are tight around her friend as Jo  finally allowed herself the chance to let go of everything that had been welling up. Things she knew she couldn’t say to Rosie’s mother, or her own mother. Things that somehow, right now, only Jules could understand. 

“Harry getting a furlough…” Jules started, the words dying halfway as she felt Jo shudder a deep breath. 

“When Harry got a furlough, I just… I wanted to be happy for Jean. I am happy for Jean! But I also wish it was Robbie coming home instead.”

“Honey, you’re allowed to feel angry about it,” Jules took a step back, taking Jo’s hands and giving them a gentle squeeze, leading her towards the sofa in the living room. “He’s been gone so long, and all you want to do is start a life that this war has put on hold for you, and you can’t.”

“Jean was so happy, and there I am playing pretend happy over coffee and then feeling guilty, while the poor thing, she’s so nervous that Harry won’t feel the same for her-”

“Oh I doubt that!”

“That’s what I told her,” Jo shook her head, the beginnings of a melancholy smile taking hold. “But since Bubbles’ death, Harry’s been…distant.”

“Oh you don’t think…”

“I don’t know. And if Robbie knows anything, he’s not saying.”

Jules was quiet for a moment, taking a seat on the sofa wordlessly. She seemed far off, her mind somewhere else entirely; if Jo had to wager a guess it was on a certain pilot serving the rest of his war as a prisoner in Germany. 

“I haven’t had a letter from Johnny in a few weeks…” the words are nothing more than a broken whisper. 

“Jules, honey…”

“I know that letters aren’t as frequent now that he’s,” she stopped herself from speaking the rest out loud, Jo not needing to hear it to know what she was thinking. “Olive writes, and promises updates, but I can’t help but be constantly worried.”

“When did you last hear from him?”

“The start of June, and now, August is on the horizon and I’m scared, Jo.”

She’s beside her in an instant, her arms mimicking Jules’ earlier movements, pulling her close and hugging her tight. Somehow, Jo thinks she can will all of their broken pieces back together just by being there for each other, in hopes that if they love their boys enough from a distance, it will help bring them home faster. 

“Oh Jules, I’m sure Olive would have written if anything happened.”

“I know,” she sniffled, swiping under her eyes quickly. “No news is good news and all that.”

“And bad news travels fast.” 

“Yes, you’re right,” she took a deep and shaky breath, exhaling forcefully to try and clear the fog that seemed to have settled around her. “I just… I miss him so much Jo. I don’t have to explain to you how that part of it feels.”

“We worry for different reasons but we worry just the same.” 

The door of the apartment opened then, and both girls looked up through bleary eyes as Mrs. Patel stepped into the living room. She was holding a tray from the hotel, complete with two steaming mugs of chai and a bowl filled with snacks for them. Her gaze, normally hard and all business, seemed to soften at the sight of them. Crossing the room quickly, she placed the tray down on the table beside the sofa before coming to stand in front of them. Wordlessly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a simple white handkerchief, handing it to Jules. 

“Thank you Mrs. Patel,” Juliet accepts the handkerchief and gently dabs at her eyes, careful not to get too much of her makeup on the clean, white fabric. Afraid to leave a stain, a reminder of this moment. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to get this dirty.”

“That is what the washing is for, Juliet. Go on, both of you.”

Nodding, Jules continues to wipe her tears before passing it to Jo, who is in the same state as she is. Quietly letting the pain escape like rivers down her cheeks. 

“Thank you for being so good to Ruthvika, ” Mrs. Patel speaks quietly, unsure of what she should exactly be saying, but knowing that she must offer something to her daughter's oldest friend, and now, Josephine. “Remember, we must continue to fight here every day; our own wars, they are painful, but keep hope, both of you, that they will come home to you safe.”

They were words that only a mother could speak. And because only a mother could offer that comfort, when she leaned forward to pull both girls close to her for the briefest of moments, it was the gauze over a wound that had spread so deep, neither Jo nor Jules were sure it would ever heal. Hope, it seemed, would fill the deep, painful space over time, and it would close the gap until one day, hopefully, the wound did not exist at all. 

——————————————————————————————————

It felt longer coming home from upstate this time. Jo had attributed that to not having Jean for companionship. But she was in her home, now with Harry, who had arrived in New York safely, two weeks ago. The jealousy had seemed to fizzle and sit on the backburner of her heart now. Jean deserved every moment with Harry; but Jo couldn’t help the sadness that crept in when it was quiet, knowing that Rosie was still over there.

It had been a wonderful two week reprieve with Juliet, but now Jo was back home in Brooklyn. She had called Jean to let her know that she was coming back, and was promptly given a date and time to meet her and Harry for dinner and drinks. She was excited on one hand, to finally meet not just Jean’s husband but Rosie’s closet friend. 

When the taxi pulled up to her parents home in Flatbush, she quickly paid the driver after he had pulled her suitcase from the trunk. The gentleman tipped his hat and drove off quickly, leaving her standing on the sidewalk, gaze fixed on the house. With a deep sigh, she made her way up the steps to the porch and pushed the door open. Once in the foyer, she dropped her suitcase to the floor and swiftly removed her gloves and hat, depositing them on the credenza by the door. 

“I’m back!” She called, stepping further into the house. She could hear her mother rustling around, before she appeared in the foyer with an almost frantic look in her eye.

“Josephine!” Hugging her tightly, she stepped back, appraising her daughter and sensing the sadness immediately. “Sweetheart, welcome back!”

“Thanks,” she forced a grin, thankful her mother chose not to ask if she was okay. She knew there would be minimal gossip and cocktails that night, however. “Are you okay? Mom, you look worried.”

“You have a visitor. A gentleman is waiting in the living room for you.”

“Oh god, is he, is it… did something happen to Robbie?”

“He says his name is Mr. Lewis?”

“Lewis?” the name rolled over in her mind for a moment, before it dawned on her. “Pappy!”

Jo rushed from the foyer into the living room, any ladylike behavior thrown out the window as she came skidding to a stop in the doorway. There, on the sofa, sat a man who had been described to her in numerous letters from Rosie. The only person she had ever trusted sitting in the Co-Pilot’s seat of Rosie’s fort, and in his own words Rosie’s best friend. 

“Hiya Jo!” Pappy grinned, standing from the sofa as he saw her.

“Pappy! Oh my- what are you doing here!”

“Rosie sent me,” he grinned, coming to greet her properly, the pair finally able to put names to faces, more than just a picture on Rosie’s side table on base or a name in a letter. “He thought with Croz home, you might need some cheering up.”

“You came all the way here just to cheer me up?” that couldn’t possibly be right, could it? Had Rosie sent him all this way just to keep her company for the second half of Harry Crosby’s furlough? 

“Well, you’re Rosie’s sweetheart, plus Val would give me a wallop if she knew I didn’t come see you when you needed it. She sends her regards by the way, boy, wait till you meet her! Have you met Croz yet? I’m sure he’ll want to meet you too, you’re very popular amongst the Riveters crew you know? We all-”

“Pappy, slow down!” she laughed, and for the first time in weeks, she didn’t have to force the sound from her chest. 

“Right! Sorry, but I am really glad to finally meet ya!”

“I’m so glad to meet you too.” she grinned. 

Guiding him back down to the sofa so they could talk. She just caught her mother peeking around the doorframe, a smile giving way as she noticed Jo’s own. 

“How did he even get in touch with you so quickly, the mail takes ages these days!”

“He’s a big shot Major now,” Pappy chuckled. “You know him, he finds a way.”

“He does find a way, doesn’t he…” she mused. 

“How have you been doing? Your mother said you were upstate?”

“Oh! Yes, well with Harry home, I didn’t want to impose on them by staying with Jean-”

“Oh right, I forgot about that! Rosie did tell me you had moved in with Croz’s wife!”

“Yes, a few months ago, and we took jobs on the switchboard at the War Department.”

“Look at you! That’s great!”

“It’s been a lot of fun,” Jo nodded, and she realized she rather liked talking with Pappy. “So, when Harry sent the date of his arrival, I went upstate to visit with John Brady’s girlfriend, Juliet.”

“How’s she? Must be worried sick over Brady…”

“She’s handling it as well as can be expected, but she gets letters when the mail is cooperative, and Olive sends mail to her in the inbetween.”

“Cousin Olive,” he sounds almost wistful. “I miss her…”

“Wait, she’s your cousin? Robbie never mentioned that…”

“Well, we’re both Lewis’.”

“Does that automatically make you cousins, Pappy?”

“Sure it does! Make your own family, right? That’s what we’re all doing to get by.”

“You’re right about that. And how have you been doing since coming home?”

“Oh, my Ma is fussing over me one minute and the next she’s praying I meet someone and get married so I can be her problem.”

“Well, this is New York, you never know. Your mother might get her wish.”

“Rosie would love that wouldn’t he, hell, I’d love it if I were closer.”

Pappy stayed all afternoon, happy to chat with Jo and enjoy some lunch with her and her parents, before they moved outside to sit on the front steps. It was just bordering on early evening and the kids who lived on the block were still running through the streets, soaking up every second of the summer they could. The fire hydrant on the corner was spraying water, turning her little corner of Flatbush Brooklyn into a water park. 

They had skirted around talk of the war and Rosie in detail, but now the sun was setting and Pappy would have to leave, and Jo wasn’t sure she wanted him to before she was able to ask him what she needed to. 

“Pappy, where are you staying?”

“Oh! With Rosie’s Ma actually, yea, just down the block.”

“Of course you are,” she shook her head, a smile on her face at Robbie's generous heart. “You went there first, right? Before coming here I mean.”

“Oh sure, yea I didn’t want her getting worried. She’s sweet, I see where Rosie gets it from…”

“His father was kind. Robbie gets his determination from him; but his heart, his love of jazz, the kind look in his eyes, all that comes from Mrs. Rosenthal.”

“He’s alright, Jo, you know?”

“Are you saying that to placate me, or is he really alright?”

“I mean it, he’s really alright. And he’s not alone either…”

“I don’t like the idea of him flying without you, Pappy.”

“I considered it, ya know?”

“Staying?”

“He told me to go home, in the end when I couldn’t make up my mind, he did it for me.”

“And now?”

“Some days I wish I had stayed, finished what he and I started,” Pappy pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering one to Jo first, who politely declined. “And then I think of guys like Nash and Speas who didn’t get to come home, and I think I gotta grab it while it’s hot.”

“I don’t resent you for coming home, I hope you know that.”

“Oh, I know, I wouldn’t be here if I thought you did.”

“I just always felt like he was safer with you in that plane, and you with him,” she sighed, taking the cigarette from Pappy and taking a long pull. “This damn war.”

“He’d balk at you if he saw you do that.”

“Then it’ll be our secret.” Jo grinned, passing the cigarette back to Pappy. 

They sat quietly while Pappy continued to smoke. The playful shrieks of the kids playing filled the companionable silence. She thought of a day when Rosie would be next to her, pressed shoulder to shoulder and her hand in his, possibly watching their own children play in the street. 

They had done the same when they were young. Her father and Mr. Rosenthal would pop the fire hydrant open and they would run in the cool water while the August sun beat down on the street, Rosie’s curls plastered to his forehead, his blue eyes rivaling the clear skies they played under. As they got older, he had picked up a paper route for the summers and Jo would ride on the handlebars of his bicycle, much to her mothers dismay, and help him deliver papers to the neighbors before seeking shade on the front porch of her home. Now, she was on the same porch, and the person next to her was doing their best to fill the void of her usual companion. 

————————————————————

Pappy had proved to be excellent company, not just for Jo but Mrs. Rosenthal as well. It seemed Rosie’s mother perked up quite a bit at having a young man to dote on as she would with her son. Pappy brought a sense of humor back to their block, and had Mrs. Rosenthal cooking up a storm once again, the need to feed him until her heart's content much as it was before her son left for war. 

Jo had been at the house for dinner almost every night, after spending the days taking Pappy around New York City. 

The phone had rang in the middle of breakfast, Mr. Harris stood to pick it up, allowing his wife and daughter to continue their conversation. When he stepped into the room with a smile on his face, Jo knew it was for her. 

“Josephine, it’s Jean Crosby.”

“Oh! Wonderful, thank you!”

“Jean!”

“Jo! Oh how are you, I miss you!”

“I miss you too, dear, how’s Harry?”

“Oh he’s wonderful…actually that’s why I called.”

“Oh?”

“Is tonight good?”

“Oh, tonight is great actually!”

“Wonderful! Binger will call the Stork Club and reserve a table, is that okay? I know you don’t want to go to Minton’s without-”

“The Stork Club is perfect Jean, thank you. Tell Harry to make it for four.”

“Four?”

“Yes, Pappy’s here!”

“Pappy?!”

“Yes! Robbie sent him!”

“Oh what a sweet gesture! Well I can’t wait to meet him, and I know Bing will be happy to see him.”

Jo could hear Harry Crosby in the background of the call asking Jean who their fourth was for dinner, before she told him to hush while she was on the phone. 

“What time tonight, Jean?”

“Seven thirty, unless you want to make it eight?”

“Seven thirty is fine,” Jo agreed. “I’m taking Pappy to Coney Island, but we’ll be back in plenty of time.”

“Where’s he staying?” Jean suddenly asked. “Surely not with you!”

“Oh no, with Robbie’s mother. And boy is she loving it!”

“I bet!” Jean laughed. “Well listen, I’m going to run, because Harry is looking for breakfast and I’m afraid he might burn our kitchen down if I leave him a moment longer. I’ll see you tonight dear, and I can’t wait!”

“Oh me too, Jean! Now go feed your husband, and I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up the phone she went back to join her parents at the table, her toast now a bit cold, but she wasn’t bothered. Not when she had a full day ahead of her. 

“Going out tonight?” Her mother grinned. 

“Yes, Harry’s making a reservation at the Stork Club for all of us,” she spoke from behind her coffee cup. “I’m so looking forward to finally meeting him and seeing Jean.”

“You and Jean have missed each other,” her father nodded, inserting himself into the conversation. “I could hear it in her voice when I picked up the phone.”

“I have missed her. Please, don’t think I’m not happy to be home with you both, but it's been so lovely living with her.”

“I think it’s done you a world of good with Robert gone. Naturally when he comes home, so will you, but right now, this is what’s best for you Josephine.”

“Your father’s right,” her mother placed a hand over hers, giving a gentle squeeze. “Then again, once Robert comes home, hopefully it won’t be long until you two are starting your life together.”

She was halfway through formulating a response when there was a knock at the door; using it as her escape from any more talk of her and Rosie’s future, she quickly jumped up to answer it. Pulling back the door, she found Pappy on the front porch with Mrs. Rosenthal behind him. He was dressed in civilian clothes for the first time since he had arrived, and grinning cheekily at her. 

“Heya Jo!”

“Pappy,” chuckling, she couldn’t help but shake her head as he stepped inside the foyer. “Good morning.”

He gave her a gentle hug, before allowing Mrs. Rosenthal to greet her, the older woman scooping Jo up in her arms for a hug, the two of them saying so much without saying anything at all. 

“Hello dear,” she grinned, hands still holding Jo’s shoulders as she appraised her. “Did we interrupt breakfast?”

“No more than Jean Crosby did just a moment ago.” Jo laughed, closing the door and guiding them both inside. 

“Is she getting on well with her husband at home?”

“Oh yes, it seems that she’s doing just fine.”

“Wonderful,” Mrs. Rosenthal smiled. “I’ve had some mail from Robert…”

“Oh? Is everything-”

“He’s fine, dear. Missing you, but otherwise fine.”

“Well, I miss him too,” she pouted slightly. “There’s been no mail from him.”

“The letter I got was weeks past the date at the top, so just hold out hope, yours should be on its way.”

“Don’t worry, Jo,” Pappy chimed in. “He’d never forget about ya.”

“Thanks Pappy…” she gave his arm a gentle squeeze, righting her before turning towards the kitchen. “Coffee?”

The trio entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Harris already preparing a fresh pot of coffee, her father standing to greet Pappy with a handshake before gesturing for him to have a seat while Mrs. Rosenthal took up her regular spot at their table. It was all very domestic, and not lost on Jo how lucky she was to have the family she did; both blood and chosen. 

“Pappy, we have big plans today.” She grinned, sitting back at her place to resume picking at her toast. 

“We’ve had big plans all week!” He laughed. 

“I’m taking you to Coney Island! Because everyone should be forced to ride the Cyclone at least once in their life.”

“…Forced?!”

“Well, Robbie forces me on it every year, and secretly I love it, but don’t tell him that. So now, I get to do it for you.”

“I’ve heard horror stories about that thing from Val!”

“Oh don’t be a baby, it’ll be fun! Jean Crosby even rode it with me!”

“She did?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Fine… if Jean Crosby can do it.”

All three of the parents in the room laughed as Pappy’s face blanched, the airman taking a cautionary sip of his coffee to settle his nerves. Surely, if Jean Crosby could do it… and he’d hate to have to tell Rosie he chickened out on the Cyclone. 

_________________________________

The Stork Club was bustling as Jo and Pappy walked in. He had handled an afternoon on the boardwalk like a pro, and she’d be sure to tell Rosie all about it in her next letter, but now he was back in his uniform and she was dressed for a night out and he was guiding her inside and towards the bar so she could try and locate Jean. 

“Oh! I see Croz!” Pappy was waving his arm in the direction of Harry Crosby, and when Jo turned she spotted Jean, on the arm of a handsome man, dressed in the same uniform as Pappy. 

“Croz!” 

“Pappy! Jean didn’t tell me you were the fourth!”

“Surprise,” Jean grinned, arm still looped through her husbands. “When Jo told me this morning I decided to keep it a surprise.”

“Well, this is great,” Harry beamed, giving Pappy a firm handshake, happy to see a familiar face. “What are you doing in the city?”

“Rosie sent me. He thought Jo might need a friend.”

“And now I have three.” She smiled, Jean now standing with her, the two girls’ arms linked as they watched the boys catch up. 

“Josephine,” Harry turned to her, and she just felt Jean nudge her forward to say hello. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally meet you.”

His uniform looked almost identical to the one she had sent Rosie off in at Grand Central all those months ago. Olive green shirt and jacket, tie, khaki slacks, and crush cap. Harry was sporting oak leaf pins on his lapels, along with multiple other citations and pins that he had served long into this war. She imagined that Robbie's uniform looked much the same these days, save for his flight wings indicating him a pilot, while Harry’s was a globe for navigators. 

Harry Crosby had big, brown cow eyes, and a gentle smile about him. He was every bit of how both Jean and Rosie had described him; Jean going on about how handsome he was and Rosie describing him as terribly capable but riddled with nerves. He was fiddling with his fingers, his hat tucked under his arm as he watched her step forward. Harry quickly handed his hat to Pappy and pulled her close for a hug, shocking her only slightly before she felt a sense of familiarity and comfort fall over her. 

“Thank you, Jo, ” He whispered to her before stepping back. “I can’t say it enough.”

Before she could ask what he was thanking her for, he stepped back, taking her hands and continuing to talk to her. 

“You two really have looked after each other haven’t you.”

“That’s what friends do,” she smiled. “And I should be thanking you for doing the same, Harry.”

“Oh, it’s Rosie who looks after me, really.”

“Still, you two keep an eye on each other and it just makes me feel more at ease.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual,” he grinned, releasing her hands and moving to wrap an arm around Jean’s waist. “Now, let’s go sit and we can exchange stories. Somehow I have a feeling you two girls have gotten up to quite a lot.”

Dinner was delightful, and the conversation flowed effortlessly. Friends, the really good ones,  it seemed, were the key to getting through tough times, because they would laugh with you, and let you cry on their shoulder if you needed it. Jo had done just that with both Jo and Pappy, as well as Jules and Vika earlier on. They had let her get it all out, those bottled up feelings, and she felt grateful for it. Lighter and less tense, she was able to enjoy happy moments like this. 

She was sitting next to Jean, the pair quietly conversing while Pappy and Harry spent some time catching up on the goings on at Thorpe Abbotts; it was something that both girls knew was meant for their ears only, so they took the time to chat amongst themselves. 

“Has it been alright, now that he’s home?”

“We’ve had a lot of good, long talks.” Jean nodded, sipping her martini with a slight frown. 

“What? Something wrong?”

“Mine are better.” She rolled her eyes slightly, making Jo laugh. 

“Yours are dangerous,” she corrected her friend with a gentle slap to the wrist. “But they are the best I’ve ever had.”

“But yes, Bing and I have done a lot of talking.”

“Just talking?”

“Josephine!”

“Well, he is your husband, I would hope you’ve done more than talk.”

Jean fixes her with a stare, eyebrow raised and mock challenging as she sticks her tongue out in the most Jean Crosby way possible, causing Jo to fall into a fit of laughter so loud, that both men turn to look at the girls. Jean is quick to wave them back to their own conversation, while Jo composes herself. 

“Did you have to do that?”

“Yes,” Jean grins. “It’s entirely too fun to watch you fall into stitches like that.”

“Now, tell me,” Jo rights herself again, placing a hand over Jean’s on the table. “You and Harry, you had a good talk?”

“We did. He told me about… her.”

“Oh Jean!”

“There was an affair,” she nods. “A woman in London, and while I understand he was coping with Bubbles, and then all of his friends being captured, Jo, it hurts.”

“It’s allowed to be hurtful and understandable. So much of life is.”

“He said he’s ended it, now coming home if even for a short while, he doesn’t want to see her again.”

“Oh Jean, I don’t know what to say.”

“You’ve listened for months while I cried over his distance, and that’s all I could have ever asked of you.”

“Well, then I should be thanking you too, and apologizing for being such a grump the last few weeks.”

“You were not a grump!”

“I was an absolute grouch, and it was not like me. I misplaced my feelings over Robbie being gone on your happiness.”

“Josephine…”

“Speaking of your happiness,” she grinned. “Looks like he’s trying to catch your eye.”

“Oh, Binger can wait just a second.” she pulled Jo tightly to her, the two women sharing a hug that spoke volumes. 

There was no animosity, and no one upping the other. They were best friends, getting through the hardships of war together. Harry would be gone in another few days, and so would Pappy, and they’d both go on together again. There would be days at work and dinners from the automat, weekends with Juliet and Vika up in Victor, and nights spent in the quiet of their house with just the radio on while they sipped martinis. In between all of that, there should be two men to join in the simple moments of their lives, and one day they would be there, it was only a matter of time. 

She knew, deep down, Rosie being in England was where he was supposed to be right now. If he had come home, he’d have been restless and unsettled, and neither of them could start a life properly that way. She knew that. As Jean said, we understand but we hurt, and that’s what all of this had been. Hurtful, and confusing but understanding. A part of her life that she needed to go through in order to get to the next part with the man she loved. It was just another chapter, the ticking hand on a clock, a turn around the sun. 

Pappy’s laughter pulled the two girls apart, and they found him doubled over while Harry sat patiently waiting. 

“Are you finished now?” Harry glared at him. 

“No!” Pappy wheezed, reaching for his napkin to wipe at his eyes. “Tell me again how you face planted and Tattie had to put you to bed!”

“Pappy…”

“Oh come on! Croz, that’s funny!”

“Not for the fellas who had to haul me out of Operations.”

“Who did?” Jean posed the question to him casually, already knowing the answer from Val’s letter but wanting to hear her husband admit it. 

“Rosie and Dougie…”

“Oh Dougie must have loved that!” Pappy roared with laughter again. 

“He grumbled about me being heavier than I look for a few days after I woke up.”

“Slept three days straight through the landings. Only you Croz.”

“Yeah, yeah, only me.” He shook his head, letting Pappy get his licks in while he could before turning the conversation somewhere Jo would appreciate. 

“You tell Jo about how Rosie was up in the sky humming Artie Shaw over the radio?”

“He did what!” She crowed, eyes wide in amusement knowing just how much he loved his jazz. 

“I hadn’t… that one was rough.” 

“You don’t have to,” Jo replied, understanding. “He says a lot of those early flights were rough, so-”

“No, no, if you want me to tell you I will!”

“He conveniently left out how he hummed his way back home, so…”

“It was our third mission, ever. And I won’t go into too much detail but, we ended up alone in the sky, and I guess to distract himself or us, he starts humming.”

“Artie Shaw, you said?”

“Over the radio, all of us heard it!” Pappy chuckled. 

“The Chant, right?”

“How did you! Jo!”

“I’ve known him my whole life,” she laughed. “And I know what makes him tick.”

“Well, on that note, how about a dance ladies?” Harry posed the question to both of them, but he and Jean exchanged a quick glance that Jo didn’t miss. 

Harry was at her side just as she stood, extending his hand to her just as she caught Pappy leading Jean to the dance floor, the two chatting idly. 

“Harry? No, go with your wife, I know she’s missed you.” Jo tried to convince him, but he looped her arm in his and carried on walking. 

“Promised Rosie I’d give you a good spin on the dance floor, and while I may have two left feet, a promise is a promise.” 

“Oh goodness, Harry, you can tell him we danced, it’s really alright.” She laughed, letting him lead her regardless, Pappy and Jean fumbling along next to them in a fit of their own laughter. 

Harry spun her through the upbeat songs, and took Jean in his arms during all the slow ones. They had carried on this way for quite a while, before returning to their table for a drink, both Pappy and Harry having removed their Class A jackets. How they had lasted as long as they had, especially in July, was unbelievable. The Stork Club was beginning to empty out, and as Harry and Pappy flagged down their waiter to settle the bill, Jo and Jean excused themselves to the ladies room to freshen up. With a bustling restroom filled with women reapplying lipstick and powder to their noses, both Jo and Jean were back at their table in no time. Harry and Pappy were fussing over the bill, the two of them doing quick math before placing some bills on the table just as the girls sat back down. Jean gently nudged Harry, drawing his attention to her as she gestured to his jacket with a nod of her head and a gentle smile. His eyes lit up before he reached behind to the jacket draped over the back of his chair, digging into his inside breast pocket, pulling out an envelope that Jo had become very familiar with over the course of the months Rosie had been gone. 

“Before I forgot,” Harry handed the envelope to Jo, a smile on his face. “Special delivery.”

The front of the envelope didn’t have her address on it like all the others she had received before. No, this one had Rosie’s handwriting scrawled across the front and the words My Dearest Jo to indicate that it was for her. 

“Oh Harry, he sent this with you?”

“He wanted you to have one that didn’t go through the APO review before going into transit,” Harry explained. “You didn’t think Pappy was the only surprise, did you?”

“You’ve been holding on to this the entire time you’ve been home?”

“Well, I had assumed I’d meet you a bit sooner but when Jean told me you were upstate with Juliet…”

“Harry…”

“She explained it to me, and it’s alright. I understand.”

“I shouldn’t have-”

“No, don’t say that,” Harry frowned, placing a hand over hers as Jean and Pappy looked on. “I know that me coming home wasn’t easy for you, and I know that Rosie taking on a second tour has been even harder. I hope you know we all gave him an earful when he signed those papers…”

“I’ve got it on good authority, from multiple sources.” She chuckled, swiping at her eyes to stop the tears. 

“Val.” Harry and Pappy said at the same time, the woman’s name punctuated with a laugh. 

“She keeps me informed,” Jo grinned. “Thank you, Harry.”

“For the mail?”

“For everything.” 

_________________________________

Pappy had dropped her back off at her house after they had all left the Stork Club, before bidding her goodnight and turning to go back towards the Rosenthal home. Turning towards the living room, she expected to see her mother waiting up for her, but found that both of her parents had gone up to bed. With the living room vacant, she pulled Rosie’s letter from her purse before placing it on the table, and removed her shoes before curling up on the cushions. Carefully, she slid her thumb under the back of the envelope, and pulled the paper from inside. Unfolding it, she found Rosie’s handwriting scrawled across, his message to her waiting. 

My dearest Jo,

I know that by the time you get this, Croz will already be home, and I hope he’s gotten this to you in one piece, and himself to Jean. I also hope Pappy has gotten there safely and proven good at cheering you up. I thought he might be a nice change in pace for you right now. 

Honey Pie, I’m so sorry. I’ve hurt you without even realizing how badly at first, and I don’t know how I could ever ask you to forgive me. I’ve been selfish in staying to fight, when we could be together at home, starting our life. I thought that by fighting, staying here, I was doing the job I needed to keep you safe. It was also selfish, in part, because I thought if I left, I’d be restless. And you didn’t deserve me like that. You didn’t deserve to start a life with someone who felt like he should still be in the fight. As it turns out, I’m restless here most days, thinking of what we could be doing at home. 

I’ll admit, when Croz got furlough, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Of course I’m happy for my friend, our friends if you include Jean, but part of me wondered why it wasn’t me. I’ve served twice over now, and yet somehow they can’t see fit to let me go for a few weeks. It’s rough, knowing that he gets to return to his wife, my crew is all home, and the other fellas here have their sweethearts. Sometimes seeing Ev Blakely and Dougie with Val and Olive stings, no matter how good they are and how much they make space for me in their circle. There are others who’s special someone isn’t here, and we lament on occasion, but I'm not nearly close to anyone the way I am with the fellas in Ops, and the Red Cross girls. 

I wish you were here with me, in that navy blue jumpsuit slinging coffees with Val and Olive, yelling at us all for crowding the truck, helping to wrangle Meatball until Benny DeMarco comes back. But then, I know you’re safe at home, you and Jean looking after each other, your parents and my Ma all close by. I think that’s where I find I’m more grateful to have you, sweetheart. Safe. 

I suppose I should update you on the goings on here, so that you know how our friends are doing as well. Val and Olive are just fine, keeping every fella in line and then some. It’s enjoyable to share an office with Ev Blakely; he’s mostly quiet while we work, unless Val stops by with coffee and a bit to eat for the pair of us. She often joins us for a while before going back to the Clubmobile. The same for Olive and Doug. Those two girls are never far apart, if one’s visiting so is the other. Dougie shares an office with Croz; it stresses him out. Dougie is usually very relaxed, but being office mates with Croz tends to work him up. Helen, Nash’s old sweetheart, has started corresponding with one of the fellas in the Stalag- Charlie Cruikshank. Everyone calls him Crank, but she has a special nickname for him that no one will divulge to us fellas. All I know is, she seems happy, and that’s good, because losing Nash tore her up. Red Cross Tattie is seeing Air Exec Jack Kidd- but no one is supposed to know. Jack’s not that great at locking his door. Poor Doug got an eye- and an ear- full last week. See honey, you’re not the only one who can gossip. I do alright from over here. Oh! Can’t forget Meatball- husky fur everywhere but, when it’s cold out, he’s great for staying warm. We shuffle him back and forget between our racks and the girls so that everyone gets a turn. Turns out, the dog likes sleepovers with the girls best- Val paints his nails with her red varnish! Not sure how much DeMarco is going to like that when he’s back though.

Speaking of our friend Harry, I need to apologize twice, because though I’m sure you know by now, I’ve kept this from you. It was not the easiest of positions to be in, because he trusted me, then again you have stood by Jean this entire time. There was someone in London, and I hope he’s confessed to her by now. He confided in me on New Years, and then Doug and the others saw him with her in London while on a weekend pass. I assume that’s part of what had Doug so stressed out, Croz was using the phone to make calls to her and arrange meetings when days were particularly rough. I hope you know that I would never step out on you, you’re it for me my sweet girl, and you always will be. 

I’ve often pondered what our life might be like when this is all over, Jo. It’s a pretty picture that I like to conjure up when the days are particularly dreary. You and me, in a house all our own, with a front porch to sit on, just like we do now, watching the neighborhood kids. Maybe we’ll be watching our own kids play in the street, and I’ll be the dad who’s opening the fire hydrant for them to keep cool in the summer. We’d have our friends, and maybe spend summers at the Cape with them. Go dancing at Minton’s on Saturday’s, or have Jean and Croz over for dinner. Curl up on Sunday’s and drink coffee in bed, spend the day tangled together lazily. I can’t wait for all of those days, honey. I can’t wait. 

Promise me you’ll keep your chin up, and that smile on your face. I know it’s hard now, and hopefully, Pappy’s been good company. You’ll have to let me know what adventures you two get up to while he’s there. If you do anything, I’m begging you to take him on the Cyclone. It’s a right of passage after all, and somehow, I imagine it would be quite comical. He’s a good friend, Jo, and he cares about you as much as he does me. He’ll be there to listen when you need it. 

I love you honey pie, and I’ll be home soon. I promise. Sending millions of hugs and kisses and all of my love. 

Yours forever,

Robbie

His signature and declaration of love were blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over and onto the paper. Holding his letter close to her chest, where it was free from the salty reminders of his absence, only then did she allow the tears to fall. Quiet sobs in the empty living room, praying to whoever was listening, begging, for him to come back to her. 

_________________________________

“Mail call, fellas!” 

Rosie looked up to find Tattie Spaatz in the doorway of his and Ev Blakely’s shared office, a handful of envelopes in her hands as she leaned against the doorframe. Blakely looked up, pulling the cigarette from between his lips and resting it in the ashtray on his desk before taking the offered mail from her. 

“Thanks Tat,” he nodded, passing Rosie’s over to him. “Dougie’s off with Olive so, if he’s got anything you can drop it here, his office is locked.”

“Oh, even better, thanks Ev. See you later Rosie.”

“See ya Tattie…” Rosie half waved as she walked out the door, looking up from the papers on his desk just in time to see her casually stroll into Jack Kidd’s office. 

“They’re at it again…” he shook his head, Ev’s laughter filling the silence. 

“Yeah well, whatever she’s doing got the bug out of his ass.”

“You sound like Val.”

“Who do you think said it first?” Ev grinned, picking up his mail.

“Anything good?” Rosie nodded towards the envelope in his hands, his own mail resting next to him on his desk. 

“My mother, more than likely with a few sentences for me and three pages for her future daughter in-law.”

“Aren’t all our Ma’s like that…”

Blakely didn’t respond, instead leaving Rosie to open his mail while he set to reading from his mother back in Seattle. Slipping his thumb under the back of the envelope, he pulled out a letter written in Pappy’s messy scrawl, but legible at the very least. 

Hey pal! 

How’s it going over there in East Anglia? Have you single handedly won the war yet, or did Harding tell you to save some Krauts for the rest of the crews? I’m just kidding, I know you’re up in Operations with the other guys, so hopefully the paperwork isn’t putting you to sleep yet. 

I’m back at your Ma’s house. Croz and I took the girls to the Stork Club for dinner and some dancing, and before you ask yes, I warned your girlfriend that I have two left feet. She seemed happy to go out, and I think a little relieved to meet Croz. She’s trying really hard to be brave, but pal, she’s ready for you to come home. And don’t worry, Croz delivered your letter- I left her to read it after I dropped her back off at her folks house. You weren’t kidding when you said the same block! She’s practically across the street from your Ma’s house! Oh, and thanks again for letting me stay at your place while I’m here. Your bed is pretty comfy for a big shot Major. That’s payback for having to ride the Cyclone, by the way! She dragged me on that thing, and said that if Jean Crosby could do it I could too. Didn’t have it in me to tell her no, but dear god, how could you make that girl ride it year after year! 

I don’t think I need to tell you, but just to make sure we’re all on the same page I’m going to do it anyway. Jo is amazing, and she’s so much more than how you described her. And she loves ya. I mean, she really truly loves ya! That kind of thing isn’t easy to find, so, would ya finish this damn thing and come home to her? She deserves to have at least that much. So do you.  

Anyway, take care of yourself Rosie. Give my regards to everyone still over there with ya, especially Cousin Olive. 

Your friend and Co-Pilot

Pappy Lewis

The paper fell to the desk with a sigh, Rosie’s head falling into his hands almost as fast as the paper from his grip. How could he be so stupid? Sure, Pappy was a great friend and he trusted him to be the friend Jo needed during Croz’s furlough, but Jo had a friend. She had Jean, and she had the girls here who wrote to her, and Juliet upstate. What she needed was him, and he dropped the ball. 

“God damnit…”

“Rosie? You okay pal?”

Looking up, he found Blakely putting his own mail back in its envelope, turning in his chair to face him fully. He deftly pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it quickly, focusing his attention back on him. 

“Rosie…?”

“Yea, I’m just…” he swiped a hand down his face with a groan, trying to find the words to actually make sense of it all. He couldn’t. “No, Ev. I not okay.”

“Alright, well, what’s eating at ya?” The smoke billowed from his lips as he spoke, swirling around both him and Rosie. Though he wasn’t a smoker, Rosie found it oddly comforting as it wrapped around him. 

“Pappy sent a letter. I asked him to go out and look after Jo while Croz was home, I had a feeling she wasn’t going to take his furlough all that well, and it turns out I was right.”

“Couldn’t have been easy, what, with Croz being home and you-”

“I should be home already, Ev.”

“Do you regret it? Reupping?”

“They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, right?”

“Jesus, Rosie,” Ev exhaled, turning to knock the ashes off the end of his cigarette. “What did Pappy have to say?”

“He took her to the Stork Club for dinner and dancing with Croz and Jean. She made him get on the Cyclone. I should be taking her to the club for dinner and dancing and dragging her on that damn ride.” 

“Pal, I know we all tried to talk you out of it before you went in to see Bennet, and I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you should have listened to us. It’s not going to change anything.”

“There’s a but coming,” Rosie raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve known you long enough, Blakely.”

“There is a but coming, you’re right. When you do get home, make sure that girl knows how sorry you are, and how much you love her.”

“Gonna marry her.”

“Good, put a ring on her finger. Shit, pal, if I could run away from all this with Val right now, I wouldn’t stop to question it. I’d just go.”

“I’m a bonehead. At least that’s probably the word Croz would use.” 

“Want me to call you a bonehead?”

“No, please. I feel bad enough.”

“Don’t feel bad, you can’t beat yourself up too much. You’ll never get out of your own head if you do.”

“Thanks, Ev.”

“I know I’m not Croz, but we're friends so don’t ever feel like we’re not.”

“Sometimes it's easier to talk to him,” Rosie sighed. “His wife isn’t here, Jo isn’t here, we just have that to gripe over. You and Doug…”

“I get it, Val and Olive are here, and it seems like it’s a million times easier, but I’ll tell ya what, there was a time it wasn’t.”

“Bremen?”

“Bremen, and everything before Bremen. Africa especially.”

“Biddick…”

“Yeah,” Ev sighed. “I always worried something would yank me from her too soon. Then Curt went down and I realized I could just as easily have been the one to go down, and leave her without so much as a warning. Jo doesn’t see all of this, so she’s protected. Val sees bodies carried out of the hospital, and most of her friends covered in blood when they’re pulled out of a fort, or limping into Interrogation. I wish she didn’t have to.”

“I see your point. Sometimes it’s not always greener on the other side.”

“It is, and it isn’t.”

“Jo is protected back home, just wish I was there to protect her.”

“Soon enough, Rosie. Soon enough.”

“Thanks for the chat, Ev.”

“Anytime, Pal,” Ev stood from his seat, and clapped a hand on Rosie's shoulder. “Now come on, I’ll buy you a drink at the club.”

“And Val?”

“She’ll meet us later, I think she’s up in Harding’s office working on some stuff.”

Quickly, they shut off the lights and locked the office, leaving their paperwork for the next day. Rosie stuffed Pappy’s letter into his jacket pocket, following Ev out the door and through Operations until they were outside. Neither bothered to attempt to bid Jack Kidd goodnight. 

The air was cool, and the lights that illuminated the walkways were just flickering on as they turned towards the officers club, already filling up with replacements spilling from the mess halls, and the odd crew they were friendly with. 

“You think he told Jean?” Rosie turned to catch Blakely’s gaze as the other man lit up a cigarette. Realization dawned on him when he figured out what exactly Rosie was hinting at. 

“He’d be stupid not to.”

“I only just told Jo, though I’m guessing she had an idea.”

“When did Croz tell you?”

“Remember New Year’s Eve? Before you and Dougie came into the racks with the bottle of Vat 69 I’m still not sure how you got your hands on.”

“Ohhhh yeah!” Ev grinned. “Wait! You knew from then?”

“I did…”

“He’s your guy for this stuff isn’t he…” 

“Isn’t Doug yours?” Rosie replied. 

“I’m Doug’s,” Ev laughed. “You want good advice, come to me. You want someone to tell you it’s okay to bring a donkey home from Africa, you go to Doug.”

“I will, uh, remember that.” Rosie laughed. 

He couldn’t change any of this, and his decision would be something he’d live with for the rest of his life, but support made it easier. Jo had support at home. She had her parents, and his Ma, Jean Crosby and now Juliet and Vika upstate. Rosie had Croz, and though Ev Blakely had always been a friend, he realized this was the first time the two of them had gotten deep and shared the realities of war together. He had envied the man for months that Val was here with him, not realizing just how hard it had been for the woman to watch him fly off and potentially never come back. How rough it was on him to leave her on the ground time after time. To have pulled her through the aftermath of the Africa mission, while his crew had simply stood down and been meant to watch it all unfold. 

These were the realities of this war. You missed people, you lost people, you made mistakes and you learned lessons. But, you also made friends, and sometimes if you were lucky those friends became your family. Rosie hadn’t realized it at first, but his family was growing both back home, and here at Thorpe Abbotts, and it all came down  to one person.

My dearest Jo…

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List: @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @precious-little-scoundrel @beingalive1

[winniemaywebber]

It's Been A Long, Long Time: a story of a newlywed waiting for her husband to return from war.

Featuring Joan Crawford as Jean Crosby.

Jean will be making her return this week in Lover, Come Back, a sister piece to Love Letters: These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You).

taglist: @blakelysco-pilot @sagesolsticewrites @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @lestweforget5 @archival-hogwash @butterfly9012 @ptvstvrrr

[sagesolsticewrites]

Meet Juliet Thompson 🤍

Name: Juliet Thompson

Age: 26

Birthplace: Ithaca, New York

Home: Victor, New York

Star Sign: Libra

Named for one of the most famous characters in Shakespeare's canon, it’s little wonder why Juliet Thompson, daughter of George and Helen Thompson (the former a retired English professor at Cornell, the latter an avid reader) went on to become a teacher herself. Admittedly, walking high school students through Essay Writing 101 in 4th period English isn’t quite as entertaining as she thought it would be, but she loves her students and her job all the same.

Proud to call herself the girlfriend of one John Brady, the pair started dating during Brady’s senior year of college and have been blissfully in love ever since. John and Juliet were even teaching at the same school— music and English, respectively— until Brady resigned to enlist with the Army Air Force. Left alone with her parents and the Bradys in tiny Victor, New York, Juliet finds solace in books, occasional letters from her boy, and finds a new penpal in Olive, a Red Cross girl at Thorpe Abbotts. The girls bond over a love of Shakespeare and worry over their men in the air, Olive happily serving as Jules’s eyes and ears, passing along updates on how John is faring on base.

When Brady goes down, presumed missing in action, Olive’s letters offer a balm to Jules’s pain, and so do a couple new friends: Jean Crosby and Jo Harris, both more than happy to lift Juliet’s spirits during Brady’s time in the stalag.

In celebrating John’s safe return home and their upcoming nuptials, Juliet is finally reunited with her old school friend Ruthie Patel, and with that, her found family is whole, filled with old and new friends alike happily looking towards the future.

Follow along with Jules in Love’s Light Wings 🤍

@winniemaywebber @ginabaker1666

[winniemaywebber]

omg this but it's our Jean, Jules and Jo!!! <3

I love that one (1) glass of wine turns into a night of tipsy thirsting over hot celebrities with the girlies this is so fun 🤭

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Harry Potter OC Masterlist ( L-Z )

[ INVICTUS SERIES ] [ A-K ]

Name: Laurel Prewett

Story: Wilted Rose

Series: Garden Song

House: Ravenclaw

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Kennedy McMann

Name: Lianne Slughorn

Story: Still Waters

House: Slytherin

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Ashley Liao & Natasha Liu Bordizzo

Love Interest: Ernie Macmillan

Name: Lucinda Bones

Story: Bones’ Gambit

House: Slytherin

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Leah Jeffries & Savannah Lee Smith

Name: Lyarra Vance

Story: Evergreen

House: Hufflepuff

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: McKenna Grace & Anya Taylor-Joy

Love Interest: Rolf Scamander

It wasn’t unusual that no one knew who Lyarra Vance’s father was. She was born during a war; when communication was closely guarded and only necessary information was shared, when those who weren’t committed sought comfort with whomever may have been sharing their safe house for the night.  A one night stand was hardly worth alerting the Order about, even when Emmeline found herself pregnant.  She simply, quietly, withdrew from field duty and took to managing communications and information, giving birth to a beautiful baby girl, and never even told Peter that the child was his. And really, Lyarra never needed to know the gruesome truth about what happened to him.  She knew that her father died in the war, that she had his nose, that he hadn’t known her mom was pregnant, and that Emmeline had no regrets.  But when she starts Hogwarts, she finds herself falling deeper and deeper into a web of mysteries, and the truth about her father is only the tip of an iceberg that threatens to send the Wizarding World back to war.

Name: Lysithea Selwyn

Story: Edge Of Dawn

Series: What Died Didn’t Stay Dead

House: Ravenclaw

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Emily Carey & Lily Collins

Love Interest: Fred Weasley

Lysithea Selwyn could remember a time before the visions.  They hadn’t started until the summer after her first year of Hogwarts, nightmares of girls with her face all meeting violent deaths.  Waking up screaming every night, feeling the echoes of their deaths in her bones, she knew that they couldn’t be mere nightmares.  But it isn’t until her third year, until her first class with Professor Lupin, that she gets her first hint at the bigger picture: she isn’t the first girl to wear this face.

Name: Maia Lupin

Story: Blood Moon

House: Ravenclaw

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Meg Donnelly

Name: Malea Selwyn

Story: War Of Hearts

Series: Family Jewels

House: Slytherin

Era: Marauder's Era

Face Claim: Josephine Langford & Margot Robbie

Love Interest: Regulus Black

Name: Maretta Longbottom

Story: Hours Before Morning

House: TBD

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Odeya Rush

Name: Maristela Carrillo

Story: Faithless Love

House: Slytherin

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Rachel Zegler

Love Interest: Blaise Zabini & Theodore Nott

Maristella had her entire life figured out. The perfect Slytherin princess, ambitious and calculating and willing to do anything to get what she wanted, and she knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted everything. Top grades, a ministry career, the perfect, successful life, and she was going to get it all. And if that meant dating both Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini until one of them finally admitted that their fourth year joke had gotten out of hand, then she would not be the one to break first. No matter where it took her.

Name: Mavis Bardot

Story: Sparks Fly

House: Ravenclaw

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Hannah Dodd

Love Interest: Lavender Brown

Name: Meissa Black

Story: Alchemical

Series: Family Jewels

House: TBD

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Avi Lake & Thomasin McKenzie

Name: Miranda Granger

Story: Tragedy Tonight

House: Gryffindor?

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim:  Malina Weissman & Emilia Jones

Love Interest: Harry Potter

 All Miranda Granger had ever wanted was to be special.  Sure she was a genius, but Hermione still beat her at every test, at every… well, at everything.  Until one day, while trying to reach the top shelf in the library, she found herself floating.  And for an entire glorious, secret, month, she was special.  Until Hermione showed the same abilities and it was back to second place for Miranda.  And when they both got invited to Hogwarts, she resigned herself to another seven years in her sister’s shadow.  Until, on the Hogwarts Express, they find a compartment with two boys and a rat and, for the first time in eleven years, Miranda sees the opportunity to be something more than Hermione Granger’s lesser half

Name: Nineve Weasley

Story: Reckoning

House: Slytherin

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Sadie Sink & Kat McNamara

Love Interest: Draco Malfoy; Harry Potter

Weasleys were Gryffindors through and through.  Gryffindor parents who married Gryffindor spouses and had Gryffindor children, generation after generation, on and on forever.  So when Ron and Nineve board the Hogwarts Express in their first year, there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that another two Gryffindors are on the way, especially after they befriend none other than The Boy Who Lived himself.   But Nineve has never quite fit in with the rest of her family, has always felt like something was wrong with her.  When the hat shouts “Slytherin!” barely a moment after touching her head, she finally understands why.  Weasleys are Gryffindors, and Nineve is a Slytherin, and nobody quite knows what that means.

Name: Pandora Black

Story: Danse Macabre

House: Slytherin

Era: Marauder's Era

Face Claim: Olivia Cooke

Love Interest: Remus Lupin

Pandora Black has always known what was expected of her.  She would go to Hogwarts with her brothers, carry on the Slytherin legacy that the Black Family was so proud of, meet a suitably pureblood man to marry, and take the Dark Mark as soon as she was old enough. Much like her older brother, Pandora has never been good at doing what she’s told, and the war gives her teenage rebellion a life of its own as she finds herself forced to choose between family loyalty and what she believes in.

Name: Phoenix Dumbledore

Story: Dwell On Dreams

House: Beauxbatons; Hufflepuff

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Anna Cathcart & Kaylee Bryant

Love Interest: Fred Weasley

Phoenix Dumbledore knew why she hadn’t been sent to Hogwarts; knew that her Great Uncle Albus wanted nothing to do with her; with Aberforth’s orphaned granddaughter.  But when the Triwizard Tournament roles around and Madame Maxime insists on bringing the prodigal witch as part of her delegation, Phoenix knows that she can’t hide from her legacy any longer.

Name: Rosalind Greengrass

Story: Songbird

Series: Lament

House: Slytherin

Era: Marauder’s Era

Face Claim: Florence Pugh

Love Interest: Regulus Black

Name: Sadie Bishop

Story: The Ending Is The Same

Era: Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them

Face Claim:  Blake Lively

After the tragic and unexpected death of her husband and child, Sadie Bishop withdrew from both the magical and no-mag societies. She went back to her maiden name and slowly started to reenter the world, but promised herself that she wouldn’t get involved again; that she would keep her distance. The only exception was her best friend of twenty years, Percival Graves. And she could have kept it that way, she really could have, until a British wizard showed up in New York and she heard Percival introduce her with her married name, the name he knew she hadn’t used since the day she buried her husband.

Name: Sunny Cavanagh

Story: Linger

House: Hufflepuff

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Haley Lu Richardson

Love Interest: Ron Weasley

Name: Tabitha Scamander

Story: Chasing Twisters

Series: Chasing Storms

House: Gryffindor

Era: Marauder's Era

Face Claim: Giorgia Whigham & Teresa Palmer

Name: Talia Lovegood

Story: Fortune Favours

House: Gryffindor

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Kathryn Newton

Love Interest: Oliver Wood

Before she died, Pandora Lovegood had promised her daughters that Hogwarts would be the best time of their lives.  It’s that very promise that gets Talia on the train, despite her fears about leaving her little sister behind, that gets her through her first few lonely nights in Gryffindor Tower, and that eventually guides her to the best friends she’s ever had.  For a few years, her mother’s promise stays true, as Talia's days are filled with laughter, pranks, quidditch, and friendship. But when, in Luna’s first year, students start getting petrified and messages are painted onto walls in blood, she worries that the best may be behind her, as she sees war looming just beyond the horizon.

Name: Venus Malfoy

Story: Writing On The Walls

House: Slytherin

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Kiernan Shipka & Jenny Boyd

Love Interest: Cedric Diggory; Harry Potter

Venus Malfoy’s life had always been planned out for her.  She was a Malfoy; the Malfoy Princess; and she had to do what she was told.  She would go to Hogwarts, carry on the Slytherin Legacy of both of her parents’ families, and then marry a suitably well-bred man of her father’s choosing.  But when whispers start to rise about the Voldemort’s return, Venus has to make a choice: to do what’s right, or what’s expected of her.

Name: Verona Rosier

Story: Violent Delights

Series: Invictus

House: Gryffindor

Era: Marauders Era

Face Claim: Millie Bobby Brown & Zoey Deutch & Natalie Portman

Love Interest: Sirius Black; Regulus Black; Feliks Volkov

Verona Rosier had her entire life planned out from the day she was born.  Just like her brothers, she would carry on the family legacy and be sorted into Slytherin, she would maintain perfect grades, and, when the time came, she would marry Sirius Black, just as her father decreed.  She would produce perfect pureblood heirs and be the perfect pureblood wife.  Every moment was meticulously planned out, and Verona had accepted that — but when the Sorting Ceremony comes, and the Hat, barely even touching her head, shouts “Gryffindor!” her perfectly planned life shatters in an instant.

Name: Violetta Greengrass

Story: Angel On Fire

House: Slytherin

Era: Golden Era

Face Claim: Emma Myers & Natalie Alyn Lind

Love Interest: Draco Malfoy

Name: Zaria Selwyn

Story: War Of Hearts

Series: Family Jewels

House: Slytherin

Era: Marauder's Era

Face Claim: Sydney Sweeney & Samara Weaving

Love Interest: Rabastian Lestrange

[burntthecity]

hi all, updated plotting search post coming at you. i'm attempting to get my oc muse back after a slight drought with some of my most wanted fcs, opposites and pairings atm. although you can assume i’m searching for romantic plots unless stated otherwise, i also love platonic and would be happy to do friendship plots. everything is under the cut!

fyi, i will do f/m, f/f and f/nb plots! :)

wanted fcs/people I’d like to use: shelley hennig, joseph gordon-levitt, cody christian, rachel sennott, emeraude toubia, elle fanning, bill hader, zendaya, dylan arnold, eve hewson, sophie cookson, hailee steinfeld, josephine langford, victoria pedretti, virginia gardner, elizabeth lail, brenton thwaites, paul mescal, sarah pidgeon, robbie amell, jennifer morrison, vanessa morgan, bruna marquezine, hande erçel, grace van patten, charlie heaton, gideon adlon, greta onieogou, diana silvers, sophia carson, daisy edgar-jones, devon bostick, arden cho, molly gordon, phoebe dynevor.

general opps i’d love: nicholas galitzine, peter gadiot, lola tung, lakeith stanfield, diego luna, josh hutcherson, caitlin stacey, ben feldman, ayo edibri, lizeth selene, ryan gosling, rachel sennott, gael garcia bernal, michiel huismen, molly gordon, ruby cruz, vanessa kirby, victoria pedretti, felix mallard, penn badgley, grace van dien, madison bailey, taron egerton, aaron taylor-johnson, lakeith stanfield, shelley hennig, nick robinson, ross butler, gael garcia bernal, dominique provost chalkley, david harbour.

specific pairings (bold is who i want to write as)

nicholas galtitzine x any female (will give you your most wanted fem opposite)

luke hemmings x chase sui wonders

dylan o’brien x shelley hennig

maia reficco x kit connor

taylor swift x harry styles

jessica chastain x any male

cailee spaeny x any male

cody christian x any female (might require some backstory/an interest check, my cody oc is a hot mess lmao)

joseph gordon levitt x any female (35+)

phoebe tonkin x claire holt (platonic)

madison iseman x any f/m/nb (platonic and/or romantic, m if romantic)

priscilla quintana x any female/femme nb (platonic and/or romantic)

riley keough x any f/m/nb (platonic and/or romantic)

natalia dyer x any f/m/nb (platonic and/or romantic)

other important things:

if we’ve gotten to the point of plotting on discord before and you went ghost on me, i’ll be hesitant to plot with you again. sorry, but i hate feeling like i’m wasting my time. i am in no way innocent with this either, but i generally do not let it go to that stage and ghost. communication is key.

will also be hesitant to write against you if you only write f in f/m plots or require doubling. no one wants to be used for their males. i'd be happy to give you my guys when i have the muse for them, but i also have many queer lady charas that deserve special treatment too.

i’m a pretty low maintenance partner, meaning as much as i love plotting and sending headcanons and will happily do that with you, i don’t expect to hear from you constantly throughout the day and expect the same of you with me. as long as you let me know you’re still interested, great! but please do not pester me for replies or track me if i'm online. it makes me extremely uncomfortable. respect my boundaries and i'll do the same for you.

i am a smut fan but find my muse burns out really fast if the plot is solely smut and no real storyline to go with it. if sexy stuff happens, let's explore it! i just don't want it to be the whole plot.

despite all that seeming slightly harsh ^^, i promise i'm very friendly and approachable.

if you got through all this, bless you. please send me a message if you're interested or like this and i will come to you!!