#rosie rosenthal no one is doing it like you are

[rosiesriiveters]

This excerpt from Masters of the Air lives in my brain rent free by the way:

With the war over, [Rosenthal] was still not through.  Back home in Brooklyn, working for his old Manhattan law firm, he found himself in an unsettled state. “Throughout my war service, I had been tightly disciplined. I put the brake on my emotions and probably held too much inside me. Now I began to unravel. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t focus on my work. We were working on some important law cases but the work seemed humdrum compared to what I had just been through.”  Rosenthal had been closely following the news of the Nuremberg war crimes tribunal, which had convened in November 1945, and felt he ought to be there.  […]  [Rosenthal’s] job was to investigate the racial crimes committed by those who served under Göring, Joel, and Keitel.  “I interrogated all three of them. Göring was arrogant and unrepentant, but the army generals talked to me in a grandfatherly way, claiming they had nothing to do with the Nazi atrocities. Keitel was especially insistent that he had adhered to the German military’s code of honor. They lied, of course.” “Seeing these strutting conquerors after they were sentenced - powerless, pathetic, and preparing for the hangman - was the closure I needed. Justice had overtaken evil. My war was over."

[sagesolsticewrites]

Masters of the Air Masterlist

Major Gale “Buck” Cleven

Kiss It Better? 💋 - my very first MOTA drabble based on the prompts “boo boo kisses” & “ pet names” (base nurse!reader)

Kiss It Better pt 2 💋 - That lipstick mark leads to a surprising turn of events 👀

Major John “Bucky” Egan

Oblivious - Bucky’s been trying to get your attention for months now, but you continue to misinterpret his romantic advances as friendship. Everyone else on base is tired of seeing you two dance around each other, and they decide to take matters into their own hands.

Homecoming - John finally returns home to his girl (based on the prompt “carrying the other one in their arms”)

requests are open!

Lt. Harry Crosby

Just Say Yes - Tooth-rotting fluff based on the prompt “If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes.” “What about today?”

Harry Crosby Certified Wife Guy™️ - minific about Croz being head over heels for his wife and the entire 100th knows it

Dear… - A series of letters from one Lt. Harry Crosby to his wife 🤍 (a sort-of continuation of Just Say Yes, but can be read as a standalone!)

A Little Fire - In which Harry Crosby shows his wife exactly how much he appreciates her 😏 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Heat Wave - It’s the hottest summer Iowa’s had in a while. Your husband wears shorts. It gets even hotter (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

In My Arms - Sometimes your husband just needs to be held. (lots and lots of fluff) (coauthored with Winnie!)

Yes, Major - … I mean. Do I even need to say it? 👀 Dom!Croz (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

requests are open!

Sgt. Ken “Kenny” Lemmons

• requests are open!

Lt. Curtis “Curt” Biddick

To The Rescue - in which your friends drag you out to a bar against your will, but you meet a certain soldier that makes it worth it

requests are open!

Major Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal

Take A Break - Rosie runs into a childhood friend at the flak house

Welcome Home - Rosie finally returns home after his second tour, and you take the opportunity to show him exactly how much you missed him 🫠 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

It’s Been A Long, Long Time series:

Kiss Me Once - The moment you’ve been anxiously awaiting is finally here — your boyfriend Rosie Rosenthal finally arrives home

Kiss Me Twice - You and Rosie finally have a “proper reunion” 😏😉 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Kiss Me Once Again - Rosie takes you to his apartment for a proper date night away from his family 😏 (18+ minors dni!)

requests are open!

Captain John Brady

Brady’s Smash Wagon - Your boyfriend (Captain John Brady) takes you (his Red Cross girlfriend) to see his Flying Fortress. Shenanigans ensue 👀 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Love’s Light Wings - John Brady x Juliet Thompson (OFC)

requests are open!

Captain Bernard “Benny” DeMarco

Pyaar Dosti Hai - Benny DeMarco x Ruthvika Patel (OFC)

and i would take a hundred years just to tell you how i feel - a Benny x Reader oneshot for the HBOWarDaily 2024 Secret Santa! 1.1k, friends-to-lovers, cuddling, reunion if you squint <3

requests are open!

Anthony Boyle

Sundress - in which date night takes a turn when Anthony sees the outfit you’ve chosen (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Lipstick Kisses - the sweetest, spiciest Anthony fic y’all ever saw (feat… uh, Things Happening in cars 👀) written by my bestie Winnie!!! (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Pillow Talk - Anthony is in desperate need of rest & relaxation when he returns home from his latest project, and you’re more than happy to provide it. (coauthored with Winnie!!!)

Come and Kiss Me - Anto takes you as his date to the Oscars. Things get very soft and veryyyy spicy (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

The Stache Fic - Anto grows a mustache. You like it… a lot. (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Better Kind of Best Friend - Anthony, your friend-with-benefits, stops by for an impromptu visit after an interview. (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

No Rush - just a soft lil makeout blurb <3

Freckle Kisses - very short very sweet lazy morning blurb

Waking Up Next to You - soft lazy morning smut <3 (spicy!! 18+!! Minors begone!!)

i thought we had no chance (and that’s romance) - You resolve to tell Anthony about your feelings— with surprising results. (Part Two to Better Kind of Best Friend) (spicy!! 18+!! Minors begone!!)

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

…. I imagine you have a Billion of these requests and it might not tickle your fancy but I’ve been thinking of a

Post war bucky - meeting navigator reader ( who was transferred to thrope abbots whilst he was in the camps) reader is the warm softness he needs to help rebuild the new him that is worth knowing.. bonus reader being besties with Harry and Rosie

Again no pressure at all! I just don’t own your skill to turn these thoughts into reality! You have such skill miss thang ! I hope you know that 🤍

New Girl

John Egan X Navigator! Reader

Summary: Bucky meets a woman when he comes back from the camps...

Warning: Swearing/ kissing/ mention of death/ use of Y/n/

Word count: 1.3k

The 3 of them were sitting near the fireplace, Rosie just came back, and he survived his plane crashing. She was transferred to Thorpe Abbots a few weeks ago, she was a navigator, that’s how she became friends with Harry Crosby, then, he introduced her to Robert ‘Rosie’ Rosenthal, the 3 of them quickly became friends. Crosby and Rosie kept talking about pilots that got down, especially Major Cleven and Major Egan. Rosie even said that her and Egan would be great together. ‘’You excited to go back home?’’ Rosie asked Crosby as he took a sip of his Coca Cola. ‘’Yeah, I, uh, I’m going to be a father’’ he chuckles, but he doesn’t look happy. ‘’Croz, that’s amazing. It’s good news, right?’’ she asked his friend. ‘’Yeah, but no, I don’t know how to be a father after everything.’’ He signed. Y/n gives him a sympatric smile as she listens the other navigator talk about his feelings.

Chaos was outside, Y/n got outside and saw that Harry and Rosie were running outside, near a plane that just landed. Y/n walked up to her friends and looked at the plane. ‘’What’s going on?’’ she asked, smiling. ‘’Gale Cleven and John Egan are back!’’ Crosby exclaims. ‘’They were the best pilots before me!’’ Rosie said. A brunette men came down a plane, a blonde came to hug him. ‘’Crosby!’’ the brunette exclaimed. The guys hugged as Y/n stand there awkwardly. ‘’ And who’s that beautiful lady?’’ the brunette asked, looking up and down at the woman. ‘’Lieutenant Colonel Y/n Y/l/n, and who are you?’’ she extended her hand for him to shake. ‘’Major John Egan but call me Bucky’’ he shook her hand. He kissed the top of her hand, making her blush.

‘’Y/n/n? Ready to go home?’’ Bucky asked the woman; she was saying goodbye to the children on the base. ‘’Yeah, I’m just saying goodbye.’’ She explains as she hugged Lily, a small girl that Y/n spend a lot of time with. ‘’Here, take my necklace’’ Y/n said as she took her necklace off. Lily took the necklace and put it on. ‘’I have to go now. Bye kids!’’ she waved at them as all the kids hugged her. John Egan looked at the scene, smiling at the woman. He loved the fact that Y/n was good with kids.

She poured herself a glass of water as she staired outside the window. ‘’Whiskey?’’ she heard a voice behind her. She turned to see Bucky, they decided to live together since they grew found of each other. They were friends, but they were in love, they just didn’t know it yet. ‘’Water, I can’t stand the sight of alcohol for a while’’ she chuckled. He laughed and asked for a glass of water too. She sat in front of him, drinking the liquid as they looked at each other. ‘’Buck’s weeding is next week’’ Bucky said as he drank the water. ‘’Yeah, I have to go buy a dress, do you want to come with me?’’ she asked. ‘’Sure, we’ll go tomorrow, I have my suit already.’’ He smiles.

She’d been trying on dresses for an hour, and she didn’t find any that she liked. ‘’I’ll go naked! I swear’’ she breathed out. Bucky chuckled. ‘’I’m able to read map and I helped with D-Day plans, but I can’t find a bloody dress’’ she kept complaining as she put on a dress. When she got out, Bucky’s mouth opened slightly, the dress was light green, long but not too long and had little sleeves. It suited Y/n perfectly. ‘’You look amazing in that one!’’ he compliments her, smiling. ‘’Really?’’ she was skeptical, she never really liked wearing a dress. ‘’Yes, you look wonderful!’’ he says again. Y/n blushes and looks at herself in the mirror, the dress was really beautiful. ‘’Yeah, let’s go with this one’’ she smiles.

The night was still young, Y/n was reading a book when she heard Bucky screaming. She threw her book away and ran to his room. Her night gown flew behind her with how fast she was running. She entered his room to see him seated on his bead, sweaty and breathing really fast. ‘’Bucky, what’s wrong?’’ she asked as she walked closer to his bed. He was in pure state of shock. ‘’Bucky, breath’’ she tried to help but this time, his nightmare was too much for him. She didn’t know what to do, usually her presence worked, and he would calm down. ‘’John’’ she whispered. She took his face between her hands to make him look at her. ‘’Breath, John. I’m right here, everything is going to be fine. Breath’’ she said, maintaining eye contact with him. His eyes were filled with distress, he needed help. ‘’Kiss me, please, Y/n, I need to kiss you.’’ He pleaded, his voice weak. Y/n didn’t even hesitate as she pressed her lips against his.

The kiss was filled with passion and love, it helped Bucky realise that she was there and not dead, like in his nightmare. When they pulled away, he was calmer, and he was smiling. ‘’You’re, okay?’’ Y/n asked, concerned for him. He nodded, smiling even harder. ‘’Who would’ve thought that it would take a nightmare for us to kiss’’ he giggled. She gently smacked his shoulder as she scoffed. ‘’You scared me’’ she breathed out as she smiled too. ‘’I’m sorry, I had a nightmare, you died’’ he explained. She hugged her friend as he smelled her. He was touching her, smelling her and he just kissed her; she was real, and alive. She just realized what happened; she just kissed him. Y/n was in love with him, but she didn’t know if he was feeling the same thing. So, she did what everyone would’ve done; she flew away. As Bucky watched her run away, he giggled, she was a nervous person. But tomorrow was Buck’s wedding, and he was going to dance with her.

She entered the room with Bucky, the reception was over, it was beautiful. Buck’s vows made Y/n cry; it was so beautiful. She was looking for Harry Crosby, she had to talk to him about what happened yesterday. When she spotted him, she practically ran to him. ‘’Croz!’’ she exclaimed as she hugged him. ‘’Y/n how are you?’’ he smiled. ‘’I’m great – ‘’ she noticed a woman holding a baby behind him. ‘’ Y/n, can I introduce you to my wife, Jean and my son Stephen’’ he says proudly. ‘’It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot of great things’’ Y/n smiles as she hugs Harry’s wife. ‘’Likewise, it’s nice to meet the woman my husband’s been talking about’’ she smiles. Y/n smiles as her and Jean talks. ‘’Can I talk to Harry for a second?’’ she asked. She nods as Y/n and Harry go for a walk.

Harry Crosby was crying for laughing that much. ‘’How could you run away?’’ he laughs. Y/n laughs as she let out a desperate sign. ‘’I panicked, but I really want to kiss him again’’ she breaths out. Rosie, who joined them, was laughing too. ‘’Then kiss him!’’ Rosie exclaims. ‘’Uh, I wish it was that simple’’ she threw her head back. As she did so, she saw Bucky, staring at her with a grin on his face. ‘’It is simple, love’’ he completed her sentence, making Crosby and Rosie laugh as they walk away from the scene, to let them have privacy. Y/n quickly gets up and walk up to him. ‘’I, uh, I’m sorry for running away yesterday. I panicked’’ she blurts out. Bucky smiles as he puts his hand on her lower back. ‘’It’s okay, Y/n, just kiss me again’’ he whispers. She breaths out nervously as she stands on her tippy toes, their face gets closer as their breathing quickens. ‘’I love you’’ she whispers. ‘’I love you too, love’’ he smiles as he leans in closer. Their kiss was passionate, his other hand went on her cheek to keep her closer. ‘’I love you so much’’ she said between kisses. ‘’Fucking finally!’’ they heard Crosby yell. ‘’Well, well, well’’ Buck chuckled. As they pulled away, they saw Buck, Marge, Harry, Rosie and Jean looking at them. Y/n and Bucky looks at each other before laughing. ‘’Are we going to attend another wedding?’’ Marge squeals. ‘’Maybe’’ Bucky smiles.

[zevred]

Good Friends

pining and in denial rosie is doing something to my brain chemistry

rosie rosenthal x gn!reader

wc; 699

Rosie likes to think he’s friends with everyone at Thorpe Abbott. He’s been with his crew for years and he makes an effort to befriend the new guys when they come in, even if they won’t be around for long. Even John Brady’s stopped making snide remarks, and Rosie swears the band has started playing more of the songs he likes.

He’s definitely friends with you. That’s what he says when Pappy elbows him in the ribs, grinning, and when Crosby wags his eyebrows over the rim of his glass. It’s just that you like to dance and Rosie’s usually the one to indulge you. He can’t control when the music slows down and he can’t help but pull you close because he’d never ruin the last song of the night for you.

Maybe he’s given you a ride or two on the handlebars of his bike, or when he’s conveniently forgotten his bike at home, he takes the time to walk you across base. He likes hearing your laugh and even during those late nights, your smile is radiant under the moonlight. He’s chased you through the rain and let you muss his water-logged curls. Rosie’s hands tense at his sides when he sees the hair plastered to your neck. He tells himself he’d do the same for any of his friends and brushes the wayward tendrils into place. He says goodnight but Rosie knows you’ll haunt his dreams. The curl of your lips is superimposed on the inside of his eyelids. Your whispered taunts linger, brushing up against the shell of his ear. Even the smell of you is stuck on his skin.

He does his best to scrub himself of you before each mission. Rosie knows there’s a job to be done and he hates that the thought of you might distract him. So, he uses extra aftershave the morning he flies and slicks his curls into submission. He doesn’t have time to think about his friends flying in other forts, certainly not enough time to think of you. There’s only him, his crew, and the mission. There’s no room in the plane for the ghost of you.

When he lands and interrogation is over, Crosby tells him you’ve been a live wire, on edge for hours up in Air Exec. Rosie aches to know you’ve been fretting, but when he sees you, he plasters on a cocky smile—the one that always has you rolling your eyes—and asks if you’ve been missing him.

You always look a little shaken, a little like a ghost when you see him again, but without fail you scoff and turn to walk away from him, allowing him to sling an arm around your shoulders and haul you into his side. You walk like that, hip to hip, and Rosie can almost feel your ribs folding, making room to interlace with his.

You stop outside the gear room, and the rest of Rosie’s crew is already inside, stripping out of their flysuits. It’s the two of you alone in the hallway and his name is a hoarse whisper on your lips. Rosie. He’s never Captain Rosenthal when it’s just the two of you. You called him Robert once, to accuse him of cheating in cards, and the aghast look on his face sent you into such a fit of laughter, the game of cards was abandoned. But when you say his name like that…

Rosie.

Your bodies are pressed close, near enough to share breath. You’re looking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, cheeks flushed and—he shouldn’t notice but he does—your lips are bitten-red. He doesn’t need to hear your question to know he’ll say yes. You could ask him to fish down the moon and he’d steal it from the sky. Usually, you’re asking to see his plane or to swap sides at meals. There are some things, some things that make his breathing hitch, that Rosie wonders if you’ll ever ask. He could ask, step just an inch closer, but the question tangles in his throat and he repeats the same mantra he’s been saying for months.

You’re just friends. Good friends.

[cosmicoatlatte]

────── ☆ kinktober 2024

preferences - quickie

characters: john 'bucky' egan, gale 'buck' cleven, marjorie 'marge' spencer, curtis 'curt' biddick, robert 'rosie' rosenthal, harry crosby, joseph 'bubbles' payne, james douglass, everett blakely, howard 'hambone' hamilton, john brady, ken lemmons, bernard 'benny' demarco

☆ — John 'Bucky' Egan

Oh he is an absolute menace when it comes to sex. With Bucky the one thing you can count on is that all quickies will be followed with longer proper sex in a timely manner and vice versa. If he takes you apart at night he’ll come back for more in the morning, if you two disappear during a function you’ll get a reward once you get home. He always gets horny at the most inconvenient times too. On more than one occasion he’s been late for work because he just had to have you and who are you to deny him when you crave him just as much. Quickies with John are the best distraction. Even though the two of you aren’t strangers to getting it on outside your home he absolutely hates the thought of somebody catching the two of you in the act. You're his and he doesn't share. 

☆ — Gale 'Buck' Cleven

Even though Gale is a very thoughtful lover he is quick to underestimate just how fast he can bring you pleasure. Gale acts under the misguided assumption that proper sex is the only way to go. He likes taking his time and focusing on you first and foremost and quickies just seem to prioritize a man's pleasure. To him it would feel an awful lot like he is just using you and that's just not what you want to be about. Now you can definitely try and start something, corner him in an unsuspecting moment and get on your knees for him, but trust that Gale will find a way to thoroughly pamper you like you deserve. 

☆ — Marjorie 'Marge' Spencer

Marge is a tease and she knows it. Even though she's a fan of quickies, they're almost never quick. She likes to be a little mean, get you all hot and bothered, right on the edge of bliss and then step away to watch you crumble. She'll have you on your knees so fast. If you beg nicely she might even let you eat her out. It's only fair that at least one of you gets to come. And oh how sweet she sounds when she comes around your fingers, dripping against your tongue. She takes it so well, but she gives even better. If you're lucky she'll just play with you for a day, pulling you aside for quickies throughout the day. But maybe she decides that you need to wait a little longer. Poor you. Marge won't even let you take care of yourself. Afterall, that's her job. 

☆ — Curtis 'Curt' Biddick

When it comes to making you fall apart Curtis is a lover and a fighter. So whenever he isn't hellbent on keeping you in his bed for days on end he is a big fan of quickies. There is just something about fast fucking as opposed to making love that makes his blood rush through his body. He has no qualms about his friends knowing just why exactly he disappeared during a night out, even though he's a gentleman that doesn't kiss and tell. He just sends you back out to rejoin the group with a slap on the ass and his come slowly running down the inside of your thigh.

☆ — Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

With Rosie quickies are more of a rarity. He's not against them, not at all, but to him it just takes away a lot of the intimacy. He doesn't just love the act itself but also foreplay. If it were up to him he'd take his time, every time. Do it properly. Do you properly. But just because he strongly prefers longer moments between you doesn't mean he doesn't indulge. It's a little selfish treat, even if all he does is make you come on his tongue. Rosie could stand to be a little more subtle about it though, because he has the tendency to be in an exceptionally good mood after. His humming is very endearing.

☆ — Harry Crosby

Your Harry has the tendency to get stuck in his own head, poor thing, but luckily he has you to get him unstuck. It might be a dirty method but it works. If it were completely up to him then the two of you would take your time together but he must admit that there is something freeing about giving in when his pretty partner tries to work his pants open. For you, he’ll give in every time. Quickies come with less expectations and less awkwardness. 

☆ — Joseph 'Bubbles' Payne

If there is one thing that you need to know about Bubbles is that he likes to sneak off and get off. Quickies are just near and dear to his heart and it only makes sense that he, as a navigator, knows all the best places for the two of you to get it on. You don't always end up in lockable rooms but neither of you are all too concerned about that. Not that you have much brain left to think when he crowds you into a closet and fucks you hard enough to see stars. If some poor unfortunate soul walks in on you his pace might stutter but he'll be damned if he stops fucking you. He will yell at them to get out and then he'll make you come. 

☆ — James Douglass

To say this man is prepared for whenever you need him would be an understatement. And truly he's a genius because there's no telling when the mood strikes and because he has rubbers stored all over the place you never have to stop and get any. Doesn't matter where you want him. Closets, bathrooms, offices, random secluded corners. As long as it's with you it's paradise for him. His skilled fingers are always itching to get you ready for him. You’re his first priority, trust he’ll find a way to come even if you have to part before both of you reach your peak. 

☆ — Everett Blakely

When it comes to sucking, proper vs. quickie, he is very 50/50. He's a well-balanced man that knows the two satisfy very different urges. He loves fucking you thoroughly, taking his time to tease you and make you melt but sometimes quickies are just the thing the two of you need. Whenever there's a chance to combine them he's doing so. Giving you a taste of what awaits you before taking you out or making sure you’ll be squirming all day waiting for him to come home. Because there's one thing that for certain it's that Ev Blakely makes his girl come.

☆ — Howard 'Hambone' Hamilton

He is absolutely insatiable but you wouldn't want him any other way. More often than not things with him start out fully meant to be just a quick fuck and then turn into nasty long sex that keeps you occupied and leaves your legs shaking. It's not uncommon that instead of disappearing during an event for a little bit the two of you just arrive belated. When quickies stay quick he will have you hard and fast. He has surprisingly good stamina and can keep up his pace. Ham can’t help it, you look so pretty with tears brimming on your lashes. What is a dining room table made for if not for eating?

☆ — John Brady

Johnny is an absolute romantic 100%. He loves taking his time giving you all the attention that you deserve. But sometimes he just needs you. Be it pure adrenaline rushing through his veins or some teasing taken too far, there are just times when he can't take it anymore and just needs to get it out of his system. John wants you without much care about when and where but he's always careful not to get caught. He loves you and doesn't want anybody else to see you in that situation. The way your face looks twisted and pleasure is for his eyes only. 

☆ — Ken Lemmons

When it comes to making you come Ken knows all the ways he can make you reach your high hard and fast but he prefers proper sex over quickies. It's just something he enjoys more, taking his time, making you come again and again. But sometimes the two of you just don't get the chance and have to make do. Not that it's a hardship to have your wrapped around him even for a short amount of time. He doesn't need long to satisfy you. And seeing you like that just helps build up his hunger. 

☆ — Bernard 'Benny' DeMarco

Benny would be crazy to turn down any chance to be with you but he's rarely the one to initiate a quickie. He likes to savor the moment and make love, not just fuck. Now if you were to come to him desperate for release begging please Benny please obviously he'd be on his knees before you know it, it's the polite thing to do. When there's a chance to draw things out and give you the long proper fucking you need he’ll will take it. Loves kissing you through it because he wants you to know how much you mean to him. 

[bellewintersroe]

Rosie Rosenthal x NurseReader! Smut

ummmm this is shameless porn without a plot, mdi, vaginal sex, orgasms, dirty talk, etc etc below the cut.

When Rosie mentioned taking a ride in his cockpit, you didn’t know he meant this. Your clothes were half stripped, bra hanging from the cockpit control panel as Rosie had pulled your uniform down to hang around your waist, lifted up and bundled together as he guided your movements, large hands splayed over your ass as you bounced shamelessly over his cock.

“Are you sure nobody will come?” You’d gasp, feet fighting for balance on the edge of the chairs as you lifted and dropped yourself over his dripping cock. “Not apart from you and me.” He groaned as you shared another bundle of laughter, head dropping back as Rosie bucked his hips upwards, hitting a spot deep inside you that nobody else could reach.

The windows of the B17 were fogged, and you were positive the Flying Fortress was shaking with how much you’d bounced onto Rosie in his pilots chair (it weighed 16 tonnes ofc it wasn’t moving).

As Rosie hit all the right angles, he thrust like a piston deep inside your cunt, your hand coming to slam against the roof as he took you to an immeasurable depth of pleasure, one you didn’t even know poised and stoic Robert Rosenthal was capable of.

“Fuck me, Rosie!” You’d squeak, spurring the pilots movements faster, harder as your jaw fell slack and muscles tensed, grasping onto his shirt which neither of you had time to remove.

“Yeah?” His large hand patted against your ass, offering the flesh a squeeze as he groped over your curves, fingers gripping daringly close to your holes as his lips fell agape, staring at the way he disappeared inside your tight wetness with a mesmerised expression. God he was so beautiful, the way his mouth was parted, the moustache that littered his top lip, his eyes fighting between scrunched shut and looking over you.

Then the man moaned. In a way you’d never heard a man moan before, spurring your movements as he guided you up and down, up and down. Rosie reached out, gripping at your jaw and meeting you half way for a searingly hot kiss as he ground your hips together. The sound of skin on skin echoed around the empty fortress, and the shifting of your half dishevelled clothes rubbing against one another. Rosie was doing you so good you were dripping around his cock, he could see the glisten of your juices everytime you’d lift up, offering him a sight that could make a man cry.

“Cum for me, baby.” And then your lovely, sweet Rosie was speaking in ways you’d never heard before, dragging your hips against his as he took your fingers, pulling them to his mouth and licking them before guiding them down over your clit in an agonisingly sexy move of dominance.

“Rosie.” You’d warned, bringing your feet up to rest behind yourself on his thigh, arching your back so your breasts were further pushed into his face. “Let me feel it.” With one more coo and finger tips that dug firmer into your hips, you came crashing down, experiencing what had to be the best orgasm ever as you finished with a cry, clutching onto the man before you. Your body was controlled by your climax, trembling and jerking as the pilot watched you with pure lust in his eyes that he could bring you there. Rosie felt proud he could make you feel so good, nothing turned him on more than seeing the woman he loved cumming from his efforts.

Then, before you had chance to recover, Rosie was fucking you again, desperately working his body against yours, cock frantically working in and out of you as your normally quiet and gentle lover seethed through his teeth. Rosie was fucking you like a true leader, after all he was the real master of the air around here, in your eyes he was the strongest, most handsome, toughest man to exist.

“Give it to me, Rosie.” Spurred on with the pleading of your voice, Rosie felt himself beginning to shake as he choked out, chasing his orgasm as his hips began to burn with the intense movements of his thrust.

“Please cum inside me, god, I need you to cum inside me.” And who was he to deny you of such a request? With an animalistic cry, Rosie for the first time exploded his seed deep inside of you, fucking his cum deeper, harder inside you, a marking of his girl.

The two of you collapsed, skin sheen with sweat as your body rest against his firm chest. You’d coaxed him through the orgasm so well, he’d almost forgotten the consequences of finishing inside a lady. But as soon as you offered him one smirk, Rosie came to his senses once more. Fuck it. We’ll be married soon anyway…

[johnslittlespoon]

Hellooo and welcome to the WOTA server's master–list of fics for the summer writing event! ☀️ We had a list of 36 summer–themed prompts to choose from and a month to write, and everyone who participated has put so much love and time into their fics; I'm so proud of how well this first server event went. 💗

This list will be updated as fics are posted, and you can also peep the collection on AO3 for easier browsing. Thank youuu to all the lovely writers who participated, can't wait for the next one! 🌈

✨ Fic List:

Only You Can Cool My Desire Prompt: 'Ice Play' / 'Too Hot For Clothes' -> by @johnslittlespoon [WC: 6K | E | Gale Cleven/John Egan | Tough And Sweet AU, Heatwaves, Ice Play, Blow Jobs, Light Dom/Sub, Teasing, Orgasm Delay] The Man I've Looked For Prompt: 'Roadtripping' / 'Seductive Popsicle Eating' -> by @amiserableseriesofevents [WC: 4K | M | Gale Cleven/John Egan | Semi–Public Sex, Romantic Fluff, Blow Jobs In A Car, Roadtrip, Gale Cleven's Oral Fixation] The One I'll Care For Prompt: 'Passing Out From Heat & Being Taken Care Of' -> by @c-goldthorn [WC: 2K | G | Gale Cleven/John Egan | Notting Hill AU, Red Carpet, Film Festival, Hurt/Comfort, Heat Stroke, Fainting, Whump] Out Of Control -> by @trashbag-baby666 [WC: 8K | T | Gale Cleven/John Egan | Modern AU, Surf AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort] No Proof, One Touch Prompt: 'Too Hot For Hugs' / 'Sweat Kink' -> by @c-goldthorn [WC: 1K | G | Gale Cleven/John Egan | Flight School, Set In Texas, Pre–Canon, Pre–Relationship, Sweat, Play Wrestling, Hugs] I'm On The Run With You, My Sweet Love Prompt: '"I Don't Want To Move"' / 'Lake Sex' -> by @alienoresimagines [WC: 9K | E | Gale Cleven/John Egan | Fluff and Smut, Dry Humping, Boys In Love, Summer 1943, Romantic Fluff, Established Relationship] Under The Cover Of The Willow Tree Prompt: '"If You Don't Get Off Me"' / 'Summer Storms' -> by @eternallytired17 [WC: 4K | M | Gale Cleven/John Egan | Post–War, Fluff and Smut, Summer Vacation, Idiots In Love, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Teasing] My Love For You Burns Like A Thousand Suns Prompt: 'Getting A Sunburn' -> by @onyxsboxes [WC: 1K | G | Gale Cleven/John Egan | Summer, Short & Sweet, Sunburn, Established Relationship] Do They Collide? (I Ask And You Smile) Prompt: 'Stargazing' -> by @counting0nit [WC: 1K | Gale Cleven/John Egan | Post–Canon, Post–War, Angst, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff] Summertime (And The Living Is Easy) Prompt: 'Skinny Dipping' -> by @air-exec [WC: 1K | G | Ken Lemmons/Rosie Rosenthal | Boys In Love, Fluff, Skinny Dipping] ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[suraemoon]

Rosie Rosenthal Headcanons

~Mr. and Mrs. Rosenthal Edition ~

🌹: Hi, Mrs. Rosenthal. Hope you’re doing well. How’s the hubby? These are some Rosie x Reader cute and domestic headcanons that cover some tiny details that make married life even more special

♥️: Fluffy fluff. If you’re feeling horny, stay to the end and I’ll help you, doll. Thats really it. Hope u enjoy.

Humming. He hums softly during the most comfortable silences, making them even more cozy. You could be reading a book on a quiet May afternoon, watching him work at his desk on a cold January night, holding hands while watching the August sunset from your balcony.

Whenever you’re singing a tune, he’s going to hum along with you

Can’t remember the name of that one Ella Fitzgerald song for the life of you? Hum it together until a namesake lyric pops into one of your brilliant minds. Followed by a “Ohhhh, you’re right. It is that one!”

A comfortable hum during the times when you’re crying on his shoulder, his hand rubbing your back in small circles, your cheek against the fabric of his grandpa sweater

Rosie’s blue eyes have always been one of your favorite features of his.

They are as vibrant as technicolor, always displaying so much emotion.

Looking into Rosie’s eyes is a constant reminder that as long as you have him, life will never again be sepia toned.

Rosie spoils you in the most nonchalant ways. Buying his wife a gift is never made into its own big event.

He notices how you eye a certain sparkling necklace while walking hand in hand by the jewelry store window? The next day, those same diamonds are lying on your vanity, waiting to be worn.

For some reason the flowers in the vase on the dining room table never seem to die? Hmm I wonder why.

Little do you know, those roses were replaced with fresh ones last night

Rosie buys beautiful bouquets of flowers as pink as his wife’s cheeks on a chilly day

Hides them in places you’d never look until the sun goes down to rest for the night and you are securely fast asleep next to him

As soft light floods through the windows in the morning, the glass of the vase creates a rainbow and the flowers sitting delicately on display look new as ever

Another small detail that your home would like an incomplete puzzle without?

Him and Hers plaid robes hang gently on delicate hooks behind the bathroom door

Technically, both robes were bought and owned by Rosie before he even met you

But they’re so damn comfy that they’ve become happily coparented between the two of you

Whenever your choice of robe starts to lose the distinct and comforting scent of your beloved husband, the two of you switch in order to replenish

A constant cycle of robe wearing

The record player is the most used and well loved item in the household

Soft jazz fills warmly lit rooms

Not much of a dancer are you? Rosie insists that the two of you slow dance to his favorite love song anyway

Don’t worry, it is not a game of skill. Maybe he hits a silly dance move now and then to distract you from the worry of accidentally stepping on his feet.

He spins you around like Prince Charming does Cinderella until both the rotating and romance makes you a little lightheaded.

He also loves a good candle. (Don’t we all?)

Not only for when he is trying to set the right mood for homemade dates at the kitchen table and nights full of lovemaking in your bedroom

but also to further enhance the warm and comforting atmosphere that fills any room that his love steps into

Cuddling in eachother’s warmth where the cold evening air of the bustling city outside cannot touch you

What else sometimes happens while you two lying in bed on a weeknight? Gossip.

It’s a safe space to talk about anyone or anything

When your little ones start school and the two of you join the PTA, the reason being not because you want to but instead having the “new parent” fear you were the only ones not in it. Do you regret it? No. The tea is unexpectedly piping hot.

“Remember how late we stayed up making those cookies after finding that bake sale flier at the bottom of her bookbag? Today, the Joneses went on and on about how they had a family recipe. Guess what?…their brownie container had a price tag, Rosie.”

Maybe a family member said something utterly ridiculous at the family reunion that you aren’t able to talk about until you’re in the comfort of your own walls

Something that even has Rosie uttering “Now if I was his wife…” or “I don’t know about his mother but if my mother caught me doing that…”

A lot of “I can’t believe that happened” head shakes

A lot of “You were right about that, honey” nods in agreement

Rosie also takes the time to tell you about his cases. Him and his co-workers always act so professional but sometimes you need an outside opinion to confirm how ridiculous some people are.

That outside opinion is Mrs. Rosenthal sitting on the bed stirring a cup of cocoa

Speaking of drinks, Rosie likes his coffee black

You learn that the morning after you spend your first night at his

What else do you learn after that riveting first night? Your man fancies a bath. A warm bath after sex is only part of his phenomenal aftercare routine.

He puts oils into the water, massages your sore thighs, and wraps you in a comfy soft robe when you get out

You two don’t argue often but when you do? You hate to admit it but Rosie is usually right

Even when he isn’t right, he has you second guessing yourself because…he’s a lawyer and being a good arguer is part of the job description

He’s a “I need to get the last word in” kind of person, even if it’s just a snarky or sarcastic comment

You two always make up though!

Make up, makeout, and make love is always the order

My last thot for today…dad jokes

If Rosie is going to do one thing, it’s make you laugh

He’s goes out of his way to see your pretty smile as much as he can

Your sweet giggles can easily compete and win against the sparkling sound of wind chimes

Your laugh is as melodic as his favorite song. It *is* his favorite song.

He’s so good at dad jokes, you have to make him a father. That’s good logic, hm? I definitely think so.

They’re purposefully bad and cheesy. So unfunny that they’re funny and trying to hold in the laugh always fails.

Your husband’s a dork and you love him that way

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading! If you’re like “Excuse me ma’am, wheres the smut?” I know where to redirect you. All my dirty thots went towards my friend Marina’s (@precious-little-scoundrel) lovely post about Rosie. It’s so chef’s kiss. 110% recommend. xxxx 💋

[flawdchaos]

Pinky Promises

Robert Rosenthal x Reader

Word Count - 1840

- this is a part 2/continuation of Spilled Drinks that was requested by anon.

Ever since the night Y/N had literally ran into Rosie at the bar she couldn’t seem to rid herself of a small smile, no matter what she did. When the girls made it back to their barracks that night, the ambushing of questions went on for well over an hour and even into the next morning.

“You have to talk to him again, Y/N. We both saw the way he looked at you when you were dancing.” Violet declared as she pinned her hair back under the white cap the Red Cross was gracious enough to bless them with. “You know Violet is right, Y/N. He’s already dreaming of a house back in the states and curly headed babies running around.”

“Hazel!” Y/N stopped midway through her dress buttons to lightly smack her friend on the arm, cheeks burning bright red. “I just met the man and for all we know, he doesn’t care and will never speak to me again.” Reaching down to grab her work satchel packed full of supplies.

“Well Y/N if that was the case I don’t believe Mr. Rosenthal would be waiting outside for you, would he?” Violet taunted, Y/N’s head snapping up to meet her friend's gaze. Violet stood peering out the window, fingers holding the blinds open enough to see outside. Hurriedly, Y/N rushed over the window trying her best to not trip over her own feet.

Sure enough there stood Robert Rosenthal - hands shoved in his pockets gaze searching the area around him.

“Go get him, tiger!” Hazel bent forward, laughing.

There truly was not much left in this world that could phase Y/N. She had seen it all in the cruel reality that was war. Men she had grown close to over the span of their visits to the nurses stations would come back battered and broken, some beyond repair - and despite all of what she saw, she was always able to ground herself. She had to. But now, she felt like a young school girl again. Her body was littered with anxiety - sweaty palms, shaking hands, and a racing heart. Why?

All because Robert Rosenthal was standing outside of the nursing barracks.

The squeaking of the barrack front door brought her back down to reality for a moment before the brightness of the sun had her quickly shielding her eyes.

“Rosie, is that you?” she more than obviously knew the answer but she still could not convince herself that it really was him.

“Uh, yeah”, he let out an awkward chuckle “I wanted to stop by this morning and see how things were going. Maybe walk you to the nurses station since I’m heading in that direction.” he was rambling. She stood, head cocked up to him, eyes squinting still from the sun. “I mean, unless, that makes you uh - uncomfortable.”

“I’d love the company. The commute can get a bit lonely.” that same small smile making its way back onto her face. Rosie extended his hand for Y/N to lead the way and with one quick glance back inside she saw her friends staring out at her, smiles plastered on each of their faces.

“What is on your itinerary, today?” Robert finally spoke up.

“The usual. Work until roughly 1900, probably later since there is a mission today and hope to make it back to the barracks in time to do some reading before I get up and do it all again tomorrow.” Y/N paused, kicking a few pebbles along the path before she continued. “How is the day looking for you?”

“Nothing too crazy but I am going up today.” he said nonchalantly, stopping Y/N in her place.

“You’re flying today?” she almost felt like throwing up. Maybe it was selfishness or chosen ignorance but Y/N had grown to hope the war wouldn’t need Robert anymore. She hoped she could protect him from it but all she could do was treat the wounds he would inevitably bring back to her.

“Yeah, debriefing starts at 0730. I’m heading over there once we get you where you need to be.” Her anxiety ridden mind could not help but imagine this was Rosie’s goodbye to her.

Y/N stepped forward to Rosie, grabbing his hands in hers as she looked up to maintain eye contact.

“I know I am just a nurse and you can’t tell me what you're doing up there or where you’re going but you have to pinky promise me you’ll be safe.” Dropping his left hand, she stuck her pinky out expectantly.

“Cross my heart.” he said, as their pinkies connected tightly.

As they continued along their walk, conversation came easily. The pair were still strangers by most accounts and each of them hated it. Y/N wanted to know everything there was to know about Robert Rosenthal and she had made it her plan to figure it out. Stopping outside the nurses station, Rosie removed his hat and began anxiously squeezing it in his hands.

“Be safe up there, fly boy.” Y/N teased, attempting to keep the mood as lightened as she could.

“As long as you do the same down here.” Y/N nodded.

“This mission will be my 20th. I’ve got a two day pass calling my name once my feet hit the ground. Let me treat you to a real introduction and dinner.” Rosie spoke quickly, nerves taking over the brunette.

“I would love that, Mr. Rosenthal.” rising on her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss against his cheek. “You know where I'll be when you get back.” With that, Y/N took a step back and hurried inside to her awaiting duties.

There wasn’t any other time that Y/N had remembered the clock dragging by so slowly. The seconds ticking by was beginning to drive her up the wall and she had to busy herself with random duties. It was while she was restocking the gauze that she heard the all too familiar rumble of the engines overhead. She couldn’t make it to the window to count the returning planes but she hoped, with all her being, every single one of them returned. Hazel’s blonde curls popped around the closet corner, an all too familiar sign that the once quiet med bay was about to pure, unadulterated chaos.

“We’ve got boys already headed our way.” Hazel spoke softly, as if she tried to lessen the blow.

“How bad?” Y/N asked but was only met with a small head shake from the blonde - it was never a good sign.

When Y/N finally saw Robert Rosenthal, he appeared in the med bay doors adorning some cuts and scrapes across his face.

“I told you I would make it back, pretty lady. My leave starts at 0700 sharp. Let’s go to London.”

It was pure luck that her days off coincided with Rosie’s rendezvous and that Helen and Violet were great at covering for their friend. The train ride was where Y/N finally got to the bottom of who Robert Rosenthal truly was. Shortly after taking their seats, Y/N couldn’t help but start to prod.

“Alright, tell me everything Mr. Rosenthal. Give me all the dirty details.”, her cheeks flushed bright red ,”uh- not like that i mean tell me - uh - tell me something no one else knows about you or something.” She could have thrown herself off of the moving train at that point but Rosie just flashed her a smile and started speaking.

“Robert Rosenthal, from Brooklyn, New York. I was working in law before all this mess. I loved it. Graduated top of my class actually. But after Pearl Harbor, I couldn’t keep sitting on my ass while my country needed me so - I enlisted.”

“No secret wife or kids back at home?” Y/N poked.

“No ma’am. It’s just me. And - uh - as far as something no one on this side of the world knows about me - I was the captain for my college’s baseball team. I was trying to be the next DiMaggio.” a small chuckle escaping him as he finished his sentence. “Now what about you?” he asked, softly bumping his shoulder up against the girls.

“Nothing too crazy for me. I always loved helping folks, I was told my whole life I was meant to be a nurse. Once we started fighting this fight I knew I had to volunteer - sorta like you I guess. I’m not dropping bombs or toting a gun but knowing I patch you all up before you get back in the saddle is enough for me.” she sighed, turning up to glance at Rosie.

“And no secret husband out at war or kids back at home?” Rosie mimicked her early question. Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “God no, Robert. Where I’m from I don’t turn heads.” He took a moment to look at her, maintaining eye contact before he took his large hand and grasped over hers before pulling them on to his lap.

“Well Y/N Y/L/N you turned mine - and maybe after we get all this nonsense settled with the bad guys, I can give you a tour of Brooklyn. I know just the place that I’d love to take you dancing.”

“I’m most certainly holding you to it but for now, let’s explore London.” raising her free hand to the platform approaching quickly.

“Yes ma’am. How would you feel about a picnic?”

“That sounds absolutely lovely.”

Rosie stood up as soon as the train hissed to a stop, busying himself with gathering the overnight bags each of them had packed. He stubbornly insisted on carrying both to the hotel around the corner. Y/N knew they would have to enter as colleagues and nothing more, separating as they went to their respective rooms to drop off their bags before meeting again in the hallway.

“Let’s go find sandwiches.” he spoke quietly and Y/N nodded, falling in line behind him as they walked past the lobby and out to the streets. For the first time Y/N really took in the size of the city around her and she couldn’t even help that her jaw was almost to the floor. The Germans had done their share of damage but it didn’t lessen the experience for her at all.

“What is it, Y/N?” Rosie questioned, taking a step towards her.

“I’ve never seen a city like this before. This is just - wow.” Rosie broke out into an ear-to-ear grin. “It is awesome but wait until I take you to Brooklyn. We’ll catch the train to New York City and I’ll make sure you take the ferry to see the Statue of Liberty.”

“You promise?” Y/N broke from her trance to look up as Rosie smiled and turned to her fully, sticking out her left hand.

“I pinky promise.” he said, watching as Y/N connected their hands tightly. “You better believe it. I haven’t broken a promise yet.”

AUTHORS NOTE - hi friends, i hope everyone enjoyed this little part two to spilled drinks. there may be a part 3 to this little series if it’s wanted. please feel free to give me feedback or more requests as my inbox as open. i’m still new to this so i appreciate anything :)

[speirslore]

domestic headcanons- rosie rosenthal

(a/n: requested! hope you enjoy <3 requests are open for bob, mota, and tp, as always)

lmk if you would like to be on my taglist: @ronsparky @bcon24 @blueberry-ovaries @1waveshortofashipwreck @beautifulbluejay

rosie is naturally nurturing so he's very openly and unabashedly the biggest romantic

is very excited to get married and to have some stability after the war and trials in germany

but your wedding is small, only with your close family and friends

lovesss house hunting with you when you're still in an apartment in the city

he's a great partner, very responsible and reassuring, his presence is naturally calming for you

problem-solver, if something's bothering you he wants to fix it immediately. it doesn't matter how big or small, if it's upsetting you, he wants to make it better

you trust him and his decision making 100%

have a great foundation to have a life together, you got through a literal war together and that definitely strengthens a relationship

rosie prides himself on how well he knows you

to be loved is to be known and that is very relevant here

he also feels so loved and special when you remember little details about him

loves being spontaneous

he's so dependable

a great gift giver, will retain you offhandedly mentioning you like this certain purse or lipstick and boom six months later it's wrapped up for your birthday

he loves cooking and is ridiculously good at it

you learn that rosie can really do anything he sets his mind to including cooking stupidly complicated recipes

anniversaries? forget about it, he out does himself every single year

rosie remembers every single one, not just when you first started dating or eventually your marriage anniversary. first kiss, first everything

rosie loves a romantic gesture, does not care about public embarrassment or judgement at all

twirling you and dipping you around the dance floor

would loveee to do a big public proposal

but that being said isn't huge into pda like making out in public is not his style

but holding hands, hand on the small of your back, or just physical proximity?

oh absolutely loves pet names, especially honey and darling

but totally melts when you call him robert! he doesn't know why it just gets him...

loves it when you read to him, will very timidly request it

some nights will read to you as well, you guys take turns picking out books

one of those couples that lowkey does everything together but not co-dependent or in a bad way?

he just genuinely enjoys spending time with you. you never run out of things to talk or laugh about

rosie is great at having a routine down, he's so busy but gets everything done

so supportive of you and your career, whatever you want that to be

he loves hosting a neighbor or block party at your house, again with never being embarrassed: will get on the grill and wear your floral apron with no shame

he lovesss writing letters, it's so romantic to him

you save all of your letters written back and forth to each other in a (now very big) box under your bed

will leave little notes around the house too like if he leaves in the morning before you wake up or if he's gone for the weekend on a business trip- he'll leave a bunch of notes around the house for you to find

the most attentive dad

has art work from your kids on the fridge and all over his office

music!!!!

music is a huge deal in the rosenthal household. a record is always playing. you have a piano in the living room and your children are all in music lessons, start learning an instrument from a young age

your son loves the piano and your daughter absolutely is amazing at the violin

speaking of concerts, rosie is present at every single one and is sooo proud

the one thing he hates about his job is it can be long hours as an attorney... he hates being away from his family

documents everything about your children, like buys the baby books and takes so many pictures it's so endearing

in awe of your baby like she's so precious and rosie can't get over her chubby cheeks or squealing laughter... she's his weakness

of course he reads to the kids too and tucks them in at night

you do have to force him to relax sometimes and take a breather, it can be very hard for him to let himself relax and chill

he's gotten better since the war but still... he can very easily throw himself into his work and overwork himself

so busy taking care of everyone else that he's not taking care of himself

you can always get him to take a break when you suggest a bath together

his kryptonite...

you love taking a bath with him, a bunch of bubbles, and laying against his chest... perfection

loves being hands on with the kids

will somehow teach himself how to build things like your daughter wants a dollhouse? of course rosie can do it... why couldn't he

loves cuddling and spooning

like laying on the couch together, legs entangled, his hand on your waist, just reading or working on different things in silence, just the physical touch and intimacy is so nice for him

loves watching the kids play outside, reading the newspaper or a book he's been meaning to read, your hands loosely interlocked, sitting on the chair next to him, yeah this is paradise!

always has his robe on in the morning like a cup of coffee, a newspaper, the robe, and slippers... he's a vision

always wants you to sit in his lap or the arm of the chair

will beg you to indulge in slow dancing in the kitchen in said robe to artie shaw

will stop by the market on the way home from work to buy a fresh bouqet of flowers routinely

your kids are in awe of your love for each other and his love for you!

[therealslimshakespeare]

Nine Times she thought she was, and the once she actually was #1

Pairing: Rosie Rosenthal & Ida Brady, intimacy journey.

Warnings: very few, still, typical warnings apply, 18+, discussions of a past rape and fear of intimacy

Requested? ☑️

Circa: October 1945

Mother held up a very frilly, decidedly see-through garment with a bashful grin, bridal boutique exclusivity and the comparative privacy of the dressing room making her as cheeky as a Catholic housewife ever dared. That was Robert’s effect on everyone, it seemed, he was so solidly wonderful, so obviously perfect, his mere attention so great a compliment that becoming his wife? —everyone rightfully gave Ida no peace over how fortunate she was. Her mother more than anyone, after watching the blood sport that was their courtship, egging on one declined proposal after another until at last they were here, a week out and assembling a hasty trousseau for an even hastier wedding to be followed by a lengthy overseas assignment.

Together. Nuremberg.

“You’d like Germany in the fall.” he’d told her.

It made one’s head spin, as did the very notion of donning that toilet paper excuse for nightwear. Maureen had not needed to be told, one grunt from Ida over the phone when a trousseau was mentioned was enough: “I’ll send you a portmanteau or two”, Maureen had concluded easily, without even needing to be told why. She’d also sent along perfume, rich and woodsy with just enough vanilla that Ida felt almost a bride in it. Ida worried such deep consideration was perhaps the product of the Clevens’ own marital struggles and adjustments to peace, but that was not her concern.

“Mother.” Ida begged now with a laugh, mildly unused to such familiarity with her parent, or with such liberal inclinations.

“You’ll be married Ida!” her mother responded, pleadingly happy, “If that’s not the time for it, when?”

When indeed? That hung like a thundercloud over this whole marriage and yet Rosie had set his face to the storm and welcomed it. “So long as you’re doing the ruining” he had blithely responded to her dire predictions for marital misery in his promising young life. Companions, he had declared them

-companions didn’t wear things like that.

“I- I don’t think it would suit me.” she fibbed, thumbing at a sensible set of mulberry colored silk shorts instead.

“My dear, think of him a little.” Mother meant well, words that would make Ida bristle were said so kindly and with such good intent she could only wince while deflecting them.

Ida gave her a curt nod before slipping behind the curtain and shimmying into a slip, very much like the ones she already owned with a pretty little trim of lace around the decollege. Dove gray and striking with her complexion. She already owned and wore such a piece often, the idea of wearing it next to him sent her stomach plummeting, suddenly she saw herself as he might, boyish limbs and the slight swell of breasts leading to a trim waist and only moderate hips; she was flat and tall —it still felt too clingy.

Mother’s voice startled her on the other side of the drape, “Here’s that other size you wanted.” she offered and Ida drew back the partition. Mother stood as if aghast in admiration.

“My beautiful girl.” her voice grew thick with emotion and Ida too felt a lump in her throat at the thought of how many years had been robbed from them, first by the seperation and then by the war, they might have had many such outings and none of them so burdened. “You’ll be irresistible in that.” she said it with such pride and Ida tried so hard to cling to that as her world grew cold and her fingers and lips with it, creeping doubt and pernicious terror raising itself at last at the sheer loneliness of not even her own mother having any idea what horror such a compliment evoked. “Ida, Eye Eye, what’s wrong? My sweets what’s wrong? What did I say? Sit, sit! -there, Ida, darling.”

Ida did not realize she was crying until she was sat on the pretty velvet bench beside the mirror, sobbing like a girl in her mothers arms. “I don’t want to be irresistible.” she tried to explain through her sobs, “I don’t want to tempt him at all.”

Confused as she was, mother did not argue the rightness or wrongness of temptation and desire within marriage. She just held her daughter like she had wanted to when her father died, when her plane had been downed, when they sent her away to Florida so someone else could feed her and she came back more pilot than woman. “Alright, then you don’t need to.” Mother said instead and it brought Ida such relief a new flood of tears were unleashed, years of pent up grief and disgust flowing out of her. “Be yourself. You’re precious Ida, never meant other than that.”

-see how ugly you have now become? the Kommandant had asked her before shearing her hair.

Crumpled against her mother, red faced and quite unimpressive, she wished she were even uglier for once. Poor Robert. She had warned him.

Gaining some composure back, Ida pulled herself away and squared her shoulders, allowing mother’s arm to stay loped around them. She did not deserve to be rebuffed after such kindness. “Mother,” Ida found her voice sounded gravelly and distant even to herself but needs must, “in the war, after I was downed-“ she chose her words carefully, eyes fixated on the most unoffensive thing in the mirror, mother’s sensible brown shoes, she had long debated whether to ever even tell her,, “-I think you know, or have heard or, but, there were things…done to me…that I cannot…easily forget. Robert knows, there’s no, no um, defrauding? no defrauding happening, I have told him, he knows. But I, I don’t want -I don’t want to be irresistible.”

Ida had watched the face of her brother process what had been inflicted on her, Johnny had watched her body swell with lurid proof of it, he had wrapped the bloody product of it in the only white garment left in the camp and buried it with last rites and a muttered Ave. A shroud of innocence for a life conceived in anything but.

Ida had no appetite left to watch a mother’s face when she learned her daughter had been violated.

Mother was now the one who cried, and Ida numbly felt the burgeoning impulse to hold her in return. Awkwardly but with growing surety, she lifted her arm and tucked mother’s smaller frame to her chest, holding her shuddering shoulders, “My brave child.” mother managed in grief, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’d do anything to take it away-“ it was a natural sentiment and Ida had grown to feel herself quite unnatural for not regretting the course of duty that had placed her in such jeopardy. “Robert is -he is a good man,” mother could not grieve for herself a full minute without returning reassurances, “I wouldn’t let a lesser man have you. But now I know— no one else will do. He will be good to you and if he is not, your father’s house is always yours.”

Ida had never doubted it but to hear it vocalized, to hear it with a recently unburdened heart, the last of her terror calmed to only simmering nervousness, and with the purchase of the demure mulberry shorts, it set her lightly on her last week of singlehood.

That night, the night of her wedding, Ida brushed her teeth alongside Rosie and splashed her face alongside her husband like she had with dozens of men hundreds of times in the shower rooms. Nothing remotely off there. Nothing until she closed the door on him, he to don his pajamas in the suite and she to don them in the bathroom, then the anxiety struck lethal and sharp.

“Don’t fail me now.” she muttered to her nerves as she tried her utmost to efficiently step into the sensible mulberry satin shorts after pulling off the sensible and smart wedding suit she’d been wearing.

She stalled at the door, trying to prepare herself for anything on the other side of it. Robert greeting her with excitement despite all their talks to the contrary of trying anything tonight, or any other night in the near future. Robert hitting the whiskey and passing out pleasantly only to forget his promises in the middle of the night. Or somehow worst of all -Robert lying in bed stiff as a board while waiting for her to shuffle under the sheets already and lay beside him. What then? shut the lights out like two senile dotards? That could hardly be borne, despite how dreamy he made it sound to have celebate sleepovers and chaste companionship. She’d rather take matters into her own hands tonight and pull him bodily inside than endure such stiltedness.

When she opened the door and spied him, nothing could quite prepare her. But then again, surprise was hardly the predominant sentiment. It was gratitude at being right. For deep down in all her doubting she had anticipated him taking her by such pleasant surprise she would never guess it -but never to be confounded.

Prim and homely in his flannel cover and blue pajamas, hair still immaculately lacquered except for where her voracious kisses had done them harm, sat Rosie on the suite carpet, cross legged before a meticulously stacked tower of wedding presents. Beside him was an ice bucket complete with champagne bottle and a plate of chocolate dipped strawberries.

“You absolute dreamboat.” she accused in a gush, hand over her gaping mouth.

Robert’s eyes flicked up, blue and warm all at once, and those smile lines carved their way deeper into his cheeks. “Come on,” he held up a neatly wrapped present, “I can’t guess this one by shape and it’s driving me nuts. Let’s get it open so I can sleep.”

When they had gone to sleep, Ida had imbibed so much champagne and indulged in enough kisses she was foolish and pliant. She wiggled her eyebrows when he rolled beside her, close enough to heat the cradle of her thighs; Robert had only laughed warningly and rolled off. When she woke to sunlight streaming into unfastened drapes, warmth near her but not pressing against her, and Rosie’s dark mustache aglow with amber flecks, she was rewarded for her good faith. The curls had come to harm in his sleep and she pushed them off his forehead to wake him.

“Morning.” she whispered.

His smile was dazzling, somehow even more so with his puffy eyes and his loose, drousy lips catching against her palm, “Morning, Mrs Rosenthal.” his voice tickled her, “We’ve got a boat to catch.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 19

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

AO3

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58 @justheretoreadthxxs @blakelysco-pilot

A/N: I'm sooo sorry this chapter took so long!! things have been super busy lately and my motivation to write was so low it was literally in hell. But! we got there eventually - please enjoy!! <3

December 1945

Morning sunlight flooded the room, the hustle and bustle of New York sounding through open windows as Frankie pried open a new paint can with a grunt, leaving a smudge of blue in her wake as she raised a paint-stained hand to wipe across her forehead. With each brush stroke, the room grew more alive with colour as everything steadily seemed to come together.

She'd been up since before dawn. Sleep didn't come easily these days.

Hair pulled messily out of her face, Frankie dressed in a pair of Rosie's old pyjamas, the shirt only half-buttoned, left open where it became too small to reach across her swelling stomach. A bassinet remained unassembled in the hall, waiting for its spot to be ready, and the smell of coffee wafted up from downstairs, a surefire sign that Rosie had awoken too, undoubtedly readying for work.

Within a few minutes, he came to her, hovering in the doorway in his suit - the one that was tailored the best, the one that made her melt a little no matter how many times he wore it. "Morning," She called with a smile, adjusting a piece of masking tape along the window frame. The sun caught her at just the right angle, illuminating her silhouette as she straightened.

"You're beautiful," Rosie beamed, crossing the room towards her. Lifting a hand to cup her cheek, he brought his lips to hers, delivering a gentle kiss.

"Ah-ah," Frankie chided, ducking backwards as she lifted her hands in surrender. "Paint hands." He chuckled as she scampered from the room, scurrying to the bathroom to wash away the streaks of wet paint that stained her hands to preserve that excellent suit of his.

He was waiting when she returned, a pleased smile creasing his cheek as she returned the first kiss, one of his palms pressed against her stomach. As she finally pulled away, he raised a hand, stifling a chuckle as the pad of his thumb rubbed at the paint staining her face.

"Don't work yourself too hard, honey," He urged, entirely unable to meet her eye without a smile creeping across his expression.

"Oh, you know me," She teased, straightening his tie.

Scoffing, Rosie shook his head slightly. "That's the problem."

Frankie shrugged. "Eh. Bucky's coming over in a bit, might sit down for a whole ten minutes. I'll drop by the garage for a bit just to check in."

"Have him drive you," He nodded, turning to head for the door.

"I can drive!" She protested. Rosie let out a bark of laughter, swinging back on his heel.

"No, you cannot - for the safety of New York, I beg."

Frankie guffawed, batting a hand in his direction. "Get outta here!"

"Yes ma'am," Rosie grinned, tipping an imaginary cap before disappearing down the hall.

Once again alone in the nursery, she smiled to herself, chuckling as her fingers drummed against her stomach. "Your dad thinks I'm a terrible driver," She whispered as if confiding a secret to the child within her. "Although, your uncle Bucky says it too, so they might be onto something. Either way, it looks like I won't be doing the school run."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A little over an hour later, the doorbell sounded, startling Frankie enough to make her jump, a splatter of paint falling from her brush and staining her sock as she cursed beneath her breath. Waddling slightly as she made her way downstairs, she seized a sweater from the back of a nearby chair, tugging it up over her head to cover her stomach. As she wrenched the door open, gaze settling on the figure standing on the front step, she fought the urge to grin.

"I'm sorry, do we know each other?"

"Shut up," Bucky chuckled, stepping inside as he wrapped her in a hug. "You look huge."

"You smell bad," Frankie grimaced.

"Late night."

"Oh yeah?" She raised a brow, a smirk curling her lip as he shrugged nonchalantly, a faint splash of colour tinting his cheeks. "Anything to share with the class?" Bucky frowned, side-stepping his way inside like he owned the place

"Oh come on," Frankie groaned, shutting the front door with a slam. "I haven't been out for a drink in months, I need someone to live vicariously through."

"There... may have been a girl."

"Knew it," She grinned, scurrying into the front room to take a seat in one of the armchairs. "Sit, sit, sit!"

"Jesus, you need to get out more," Bucky muttered, perching on the edge of the couch. "That baby's making you weird."

"Not the point. Start talking."

Throwing his hands up in frustration, he let out a sigh. "I don't know! I got drunk and we danced - she was pretty, I think her name was... Jo? Josephine. But other than that I got nothin', so I'll probably never see her again."

Frankie let out a long, agonised groan as she pushed herself back up out of her seat, waddling towards the kitchen. "God, what's the point of living through you if all you do is make stupid decisions?"

"Where are you going?" Bucky called after her, craning his neck to watch as she disappeared into the kitchen. It was quiet for a while until she reappeared in the doorway, a plate of shortbread in her hand, already chewing a mouthful.

"You want some?"

He snorted back a laugh, smiling sceptically. "You made those?"

"They're the only thing I'm good at. Three ingredients." She mused, licking some sugar from her fingertip as she returned, putting the plate down on the coffee table. Lowering herself back into her chair, Frankie let out a groan, the feeling of weight being taken from her practically euphoric. "So. What's the plan for tracking down this Jo?"

Bucky threw his hands up in despair. "I dunno. It's impossible."

Her eyes narrowed slowly. "I don't think I've ever heard you say those words," Frankie teased. "Do it again. Slowly."

"Shut up," He frowned, stuffing a piece of shortbread into his mouth to avoid having to speak for at least a little while.

"I just never knew you to be a coward," She shrugged. "You're setting a bad example for the baby."

Bucky scoffed, a few crumbs blowing loose from his moustache. "The baby doesn't know what's going on."

Frankie felt a stretch within her as the baby kicked out with her tiny foot. "Oh, she begs to differ."

"Oh my God."

"Hm?"

"I just realised there's actually gonna be two of you. I dunno if I can cope with that."

"Oh, don't tell me Uncle Bucky's gonna shirk his duties."

"...Uncle Bucky?"

"Mhm."

He began to grin, chuckling to himself, unable to suppress his smile as he leant back into his seat. "Well... alright. I think I can work with that."

Frankie mirrored his smile, the room falling into quiet for a long moment before she snapped her fingers.

"Ok. You're giving me a lift to work."

"Oh, am I?"

"Yep. Rosie says I'm not allowed to drive."

"Oh, yeah, no, good call actually. I'll get my coat," Bucky nodded firmly, fumbling for his keys as he rose to his feet.

"Well, I was thinking I'd go put proper clothes on first," She pointed out. He turned, taking in her appearance, the sleeves of Rosie's sweater dangling past her fingertips, paint-stained socks peeking out beneath the hem of her pyjama bottoms.

"Seems fair."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bucky's car vanished around the corner as Frankie headed inside through the open garage door, groaning slightly as she craned backwards, stretching her back against the weight it carried. The place was alive with work, her staff bustling away as they tweaked and mended the cars in their custody, a raucous whirr filling the air and bringing her back to the countless hours spent in her father's shop as a girl.

"Mrs Rosenthal," One of the mechanics nodded to her as she waddled past, tipping an imaginary cap in her direction.

"Mornin', Ted," She paused, stepping up beside him as he peered beneath the hood of one of the cars. "How's it lookin'?"

"Think we got a problem with one of the carburettor valves - I'll take it out and have a look, but we'll probably have to order a part."

"Alright," Frankie hummed. "I'm sending out an order later anyway, if you can get it checked today I should be able to get it in fast."

"Thanks, Frank," Ted smiled, the pair exchanging nods as she headed towards the office, which sat tucked away in the far rear of the place, its windowed walls giving her a perfect view of everything that went on.

"Excuse me?" A voice echoed through the garage, barely audible over the roar of machinery, giving Frankie pause as her hand reached for the office door. A woman lingered in the entryway, clutching her purse as she glanced around hoping to be noticed. Her blonde hair was pulled back in neat curls, a pleasant smile curling red lips as she met Frankie's eye.

"Hi!" She grinned, meeting the woman in the middle of the room as they headed towards each other. "What can I do for ya?"

"I'm just here to pick up my car, I brought it in a few days ago."

"Alright, no worries," Frankie nodded, back-tracking towards the office to grab her clipboard "What's the name?"

"Josephine Pitz."

She paused, slowly looking up from her notes, her earlier conversation with Bucky replaying in her head.

"Mhm. Ok. If you could just take a seat, I'll go deal with the paperwork and you'll be good to go," Frankie urged, waddling at full speed back to her office as Josephine found a chair.

Alone in the privacy of her office, she grabbed the papers, fumbling for the phone on her desk as she forcibly dialled the familiar number. Holding the handset between her shoulder and her chin, she scribbled away, deigning not to get too precious about her terrible spelling as she waited for her friend to pick up.

"Hello?" Bucky's voice came down the line.

"I think I've found the answer to your Josephine problem."

She heard him scoff. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Shut up, she's just come in. Josephine Pitz - blonde hair, green eyes... great legs."

"Oh shit."

"That's what I'm saying! Get down here right now - knock on the back door."

"Alright, yeah - On it."

The line beeped as he hung up, and she couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of Bucky scrambling to get out of the house, scurrying to his car in a frenzied hurry. Frankie pushed herself closer to the desk, the table's edge digging into her stomach as she signed off on the last paper, only half paying attention as she focused on keeping Josephine firmly in her peripheral vision.

After ten minutes of clumsy stalling, the knock of a fist against the back door came as a welcome intrustion, and Bucky was scarcely able to offer greetings before he found Frankie's lunch thrust into his hands.

"Wh-?"

"Go round the front - pretend I forgot this, and Rosie's asked you to bring it."

He looked down at the crumpled paper bag, nodding firmly. "Good plan. Great plan. Ok."

"Right, go."

Flashing her a grin of excitement, Bucky disappeared around the side of the building, appearing mere seconds later at the front entrace, her lunch held aloft as if in victory. Josephine did a double take, eyes widening slightly in recognition, whilst he seemed to be pretending he hadn't noticed her yet. It struck Frankie as an odd decision.

"Here you are," Bucky declared, holding the bag out to her with a smile as he approached. "Can't keep forgetting this. Feedin' two n' all."

"Oh! Yes, thank you," Frankie nodded. Even when unable to see her own face, she could tell her attempt at appearing surprised was not going terribly well.

"... John?" Josephine's voice intruded. He turned to face her. If Frankie's effort at feigning shock had been unsuccessful, his was worse.

"Jo? Huh! Fancy seeing you here!"

Jo's jaw hung slightly slack, gaze darting between them as the gears turned in her head. Bucky and Frankie stood frozen, waiting for her to speak.

"... Oh my god, you're married?!"

Some kind of terrible squawk escaped Frankie's throat, an awkward middle ground between a choke and a guffaw. "Oh, Jesus, no! No, no - see the Rosenthal & Co. sign outside? I'm the Rosenthal. He's Egan, completely unrelated."

Jo's frown faded slightly, brows still pinched as the shock of what she thought she'd realised slowly wore off. Briefly glancing at Bucky, he offered her an awkward thumbs-up.

"So... Who's the 'Co.'?"

"Right here," Frankie patted her stomach, which barely fit beneath the buttons of her coveralls.

"... Huh."

"We're just friends," Bucky assured. "We worked together during the war."

"This whole thing was just a set-up attempt, cuz he was at my house earlier talking about you," Frankie shrugged.

Suddenly the others were both staring at her with expressions of equal alarm. She paused, clicking her tongue awkwardly.

"I am... gonna go get your car. Just... carry on without me."

"Please go away now," Bucky uttered.

"Yep."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

5th January 1946

Christmas lights still bathed the living room in a flickering array of red and green, the tree long since wilted and thrown away, although neither of them had quite found the time to take down any of the other decorations. There always seemed to be another job that needed doing more urgently, and as the days passed, Frankie found herself more and more open to Rosie's pleas that she simply sit down, rest, and let him take care of it all.

He was lounging in one of the armchairs, newspaper unfolded in his lap, a few dry patched of paint still staining his shirt from where he'd helped her to finish painting the nursery. Padding across the room, Frankie's eyes screwed shut as she let out a yawn, only opening them as she felt his hand gently tugging at her wrist. She hadn't even had to look at him to know what he wanted, hearing the rustle of the newspaper being cast aside as she lowered herself to perch in his lap, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck as his hand rubbed circles against her spine.

"God, I'm bored of waiting for this baby," Frankie sighed. He hummed, breath warming her skin as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, a bubble of laughter escaping her throat.

"Not much longer now," He said, voice muffled against her as he held her as close as he could, the red and green lights reflecting against the polished metal of her ring.

"... You think it's time for the decorations to come down?" Rosie asked, chin resting against her shoulder as he glanced around the room.

"No," She tutted. "I like the idea of it still being Christmas when she gets here."

"You're so sure it's a girl?"

"Oh, yeah. And I'm always right."

"Of course."

A soft finger against his jaw tilted Rosie's face to look up, his eyes softening without delay the moment they landed upon her. Her hair had been messily scraped back into a ponytail, loose strands sticking out at every angle. But her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes were bright, and to him, she'd never been more beautiful. Frankie pressed a quick kiss to his lips, their foreheads resting against one another as they both let their gazes travel to her bulging stomach.

"You're gonna be such a good dad," She hummed, barely more than a whisper. He lifted his head, pressing another, longer kiss to her temple.

"She's gonna love you," He muttered against her skin. Frankie shrugged, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve. After a beat of silence, Rosie pulled away, looking her in the face. "You okay, honey?"

"I dunno, I just," She sighed. "I don't remember my mum. I don't really remember how they're supposed to... be."

Sucking in a long, deep breath, he wrapped his arms tighter around her, a frown creasing his brow.

"You're not supposed to be anything. You're already the kindest, funniest, smartest person I know. And you've got your dad - if you're anything like him at all, our kid's gonna be just great."

Rosie chuckled as she wrapped her arms around his head, squeezing it in a vice grip. She kissed his scalp firmly before resting her cheek against his hair. "I love you."

"I love you so much," He said, muffled against her sweater. But she could hear the smile in his voice.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

10th January 1946

Frankie's face was still drenched with sweat, hair clinging to her temples as she cradled the tiny infant in her arms, unable to wipe the grin from her cheeks even for a second. Even as exhaustion willed her eyes to close, she couldn't bring herself to look away. "Oh, there you are," She whispered as a gurgle escaped the girl's throat, her hand so small it could do nothing but wrap around her mother's pinky finger.

Rosie wiped away the sweat from Frankie's brow, hand ceaselessly gentle. "You feeling okay?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," She nodded. He looked down at the baby in her arms, eyes welling with immediate tears. A tired laugh escaped Frankie's throat. "Oh, honey. You wanna hold her?"

Beaming at the prospect, he reached out to softly pry the child from her mother's grip, his hands so big against her tiny frame that it seemed almost impossible that something so small could even exist. "Hi there Maggie," He sang, sniffing loudly as he tried to blink away the tears before they could roll down his cheeks. Frankie reached out a hand, wiping them away with the pad of her thumb.

A soft knock sounded at the door, cautious and restrained as whoever stood outside waited patiently, hesitant to intrude.

"Come in!" Frankie called, voice mellow to avoid stirring the baby.

Creaking slowly open, George's head poked inside, a wide-eyed smile crumbling as she processed the scene in front of her. "God, I said I wasn't gonna cry," She tutted, wiping her eyes as she hovered in the doorway, as if hesitant to make her entrance before she'd fully composed herself.

"Oh, who cares, c'mere," Frankie laughed, holding out her arms as her best friend hurried forward. Passing the baby with barely more than a glance, she enveloped her in a fierce hug, perching on the edge of the bed beside her.

"I'm so proud of you," George choked back a sob, raising a hand to stroke Frankie's hair out of her face. "You smell terrible."

"Just like the old days, huh?" She laughed. "Although I did just have a bloody baby, do you actually want to see her?"

"Oh, shit, yeah," George sniffed, wiping her tears as she pulled out of the hug. Rosie was still standing in the corner with Maggie, a smitten smile creasing his cheeks, seemingly unaware of anything else around him.

"Rosie," Frankie prompted gently, snapping him out of his trance.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," He looked up, edging towards George so that she could get a peek at the child beneath her bundle of blankets.

"Hiya," She whispered, grinning as she leaned closer, lifting her hand so that the baby could wrap a chubby hand around her finger. "What's her name?"

"Margaret. Well, Maggie," Rosie smiled.

"Margaret Georgina Rosenthal," Frankie pointed out, George's eyes widening as she turned to look back at her.

"Shut the fuck up," She blurted, hand raised almost immediately to cover her mouth, glancing nervously back at the baby as if she somehow understood. Rosie began to laugh, the vibration of his chest making Maggie gurgle happily. "You didn't."

He shrugged. "Well, we thought that you-"

"I don't even like that name!"

Frankie snorted. "I know!"

George groaned. "Fine, well, I think she suits it better anyway." She nodded to Rosie, wordlessly asking his permission, and he gently placed Maggie into her arms. "Yeah. She's a cool baby."

"Bucky's coming to see her later," Frankie said. "He'll be mad I didn't somehow find a way to name her after him."

"He's gonna cry," "He's gonna cry," George and Rosie stated simultaneously, lifting their gazes from the baby to look at each other, snorts of laughter escaping them both.

"Alright, that's enough, give me my baby," She grunted, shifting forward on the bed and holding out her arms. Maggie let out a series of gargling sounds as George lowered her into Frankie's arms, tiny eyes staring up at her mother as she held her close. She let out a faint chuckle, stroking her thumb across her cheek.

"Yeah... She is gonna be pretty great."

[sagesolsticewrites]

Kiss Me Once

The moment you’ve been anxiously awaiting is finally here— your boyfriend Rosie Rosenthal finally arrives home.

(hi @hellfirequinnie @justheretoreadthxxs @ronsenthal @storysimp)

a/n: hugest of huge shoutouts to Winnie (@winniemaywebber) and Gina (@ginabaker1666) for letting me yell about this fic 24/7, not to mention darling Marina’s (@precious-little-scoundrel) spicy Rosie headcanons which played a huge part in the inspiration for this fic (as well as the future parts I have planned 👀) 💕

Warnings: mentions of death (brief mention of death of a parent, war deaths), mentions of sex, Rosie being a tease 👀, definite historical inaccuracies, if there’s anything else y’all would like me to tag, please let me know!

Word count: 3k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Masterlist

You pace around the foyer of the Rosenthal apartment impatiently.

Your boyfriend, Robert, was coming home after several long years of war, and he was already ten minutes late.

He had insisted on meeting you all at the apartment instead of greeting him as he got off the train— something sweet about wanting to walk into his home and see you all there— but his train had gotten in on time, so where—

“Y/N, he’ll be here honey,” his mother says gently, exchanging a look with his sister from her place in the kitchen where she’s preparing a spread of Rosie’s favorite foods, “You know how the traffic is, especially today.”

“I know, I know,” you nod, your nervous pacing slowing the tiniest bit, “But he said—”

Your worries are interrupted by a knock on the door, and suddenly you’re frozen in place.

“Well? You gonna answer it?” his sister teases, gesturing at the door.

“But—” You glance between his family and the door, conflicted.

“He’s had enough of us fussing over him,” his mother pipes up, moving to stand next to her daughter, “We all know who he’s really here to see,” she adds with a teasing smile.

You glance down with a smile, trying to will the heat in your cheeks away before you move to finally fling the door open.

It truly doesn’t seem real, the sight that greets you as the door opens.

Robert stands there, dapper in his dress uniform, curls neat, hat tucked neatly under his arm.

He blinks in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting you to be the one who opened the door, but the shock on his face is quickly replaced with a wide grin.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” you gasp as you’re pulled into his arms for a tight hug, burying your face in his neck as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Missed you so much,” he murmurs softly in your ear before pulling away to take in your face, eyes scanning over your features as if to make sure everything was the same as he remembered.

You do the same, clocking one very noticeable change.

“What’s this?” You laugh, gesturing to your own top lip.

His fingers move self-consciously to the mustache that definitely wasn’t there when he left for flight school.

“Oh yeah, uh… remember I told you I started tryin’ to grow one back in training? Well… it turned into this,” He laughs, meeting your eyes anxiously, “What do you think?”

You rise up into your tiptoes to peck his lips, “I think you look very handsome, my love.”

His hand cups your cheek as you pull away, bringing you back in for a long, tender kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours after so long, but the rosy spell the two of you are under is quickly broken by his sister pointedly clearing her throat, ignoring her mother’s scolding look at her interruption.

“Wow, Rosie,” she teases as the two of you break apart, “it’s nice to see that you remembered we’re here too.”

“That’s the best welcome you’ve got for your big brother, Jeanie?” He rolls his eyes playfully, unable to hide his smile as he gives you one last squeeze and goes to greet his family.

“Hi, Ma,” he says, voice thick as he embraces his mother for the first time in far too long.

She clings to him in a long, fierce hug, and he returns it just as fiercely until his sister tackles him from the side.

Rosie lets out an oof, quickly adjusting so he has both of them in an embrace.

The four of you sit down for dinner, conversation flowing nonstop. Even with the frequent letters back and forth, Rosie still had plenty to tell you about his life in England, and his family still had plenty to catch him up on.

As his sister is rambling about work, his hand comes to rest on your knee. Still respectable, of course, but the warmth emanating from him makes it difficult to focus on anything else.

As the night continues, you nearly drop your fork into your mashed potatoes when his hand glides ever so slightly up your leg, slipping just underneath the hem of your skirt. He maintains a straight face, wide grin barely flickering as he teases his sister about the crush she inadvertently mentioned, all while his fingers remain indecently close to your core.

His mother is in the middle of filling him in on all the neighborhood gossip when your glass of water comes very close to slipping out of your hand. You catch it in time, mumbling an excuse about being oddly clumsy tonight, when all you can think about are the featherlight patterns Rosie is tracing on the inside of your thigh.

You shoot a glare at him when his mother and sister are distracted, which he meets with a smile, eyes sparkling with mirth, heat simmering just underneath.

Somehow you manage to fumble through the rest of dinner, contributing with simple nods or “mm hm”s as Rosie’s presence next to you overwhelms your mind. As the meal finishes— complete with a mouthwatering cherry pie— Rosie stands and begins gathering plates. You and his mother stand simultaneously to do the same.

“Ma, please sit down,” Rosie insists gently, “I got it.”

As she opens her mouth to protest, he simply shakes his head.

“It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to do this, yeah? Let me help out. Please.”

Eyes softening at the mention of his being away for so long, she relents, and the two of you gather the remaining dishes.

Mrs. Rosenthal and her daughter move to the living room, soft jazz drifting through the apartment as they turn on the radio while you and Rosie work like a well-oiled machine washing and drying dishes. Er… mostly.

“Robbie!” You yelp as he splashes water up towards you, holding your rag up as a shield. You laugh, retaliating with a reckless swing of the still-damp dishrag.

What follows is a playful water fight where miraculously neither of you get too wet, but does end with you pinned between Rosie and the kitchen counter, his lips moving greedily against yours.

You let out a soft squeal as he pulls away briefly to scatter kisses all over your face and neck, mustache brushing against your skin.

“Robbie, that tickles!”

You can feel him grinning as his lips land on yours once more.

“I missed hearing you laugh.” he murmurs between kisses as his hands wander freely over your dress, “Missed you so, so much, honey.”

“I missed you, too,” you sigh as you reluctantly pull away for air, thumb stroking along his cheekbone as you take him in: mustache and all.

“When you re-enlisted, I—”

You take a breath, forcing back the sudden tears that threaten to spill over.

“I was so scared,” you admit softly, “So incredibly proud of you, of course, because I know that’s who you are: you don’t come home until the fight’s over. But so many people were getting those damn Western Union telegrams telling them that their sons or brothers or friends wouldn’t be coming home, and I couldn’t stand the thought of being one of them.” Your voice trembles, and you take a shaky breath in, pressing your forehead to his, “I couldn’t stand the thought of being without you.”

“Honey,” he says softly, nudging your noses together ever so gently so you meet his eyes, “I love you.”

Those words hang in the air for a heartbeat, words that you had only been able to read in his letters for the past two years, words that you hadn’t heard aloud in far, far too long.

“I love you,” he repeats softly, firmly, the words like an oath on his lips, “and I hated the thought of making you and Ma and Jeanie worry, but… but what I hated more was the thought of going back home when there was still so much evil out there. And the kids who were coming in to replace us… that’s it, they were just kids. I couldn’t leave in good conscience knowing that some teenager was gonna be taking my place in the sky and wasn’t gonna make it home because of me. I saw it happen too many times, and I couldn’t—”

He shakes his head, swallows, and meets your eyes again with a soft smile.

“But I’m home now. And I’m not leaving you anytime soon, yeah?”

He leans in for a tender kiss, one that has you melting down to your toes as he pulls you into his arms, swaying ever so slightly.

“Dance with me, honey? I know it’s no Minton’s,” he chuckles, “But it’ll do.”

He holds you close, twirling you around the kitchen with your head resting on his shoulder as Kitty Kallen’s voice drifts in from the living room, Rosie singing along softly in your ear.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

He always claimed that his ma and Jeanie got all the musical talent, but you loved to hear him sing in the rare moments you got to. You loved it even more in this moment because it meant that he was here. He was home. He was safe. And he was with you.

You stay wrapped in his arms for the duration of the song, and as it fades into the next one— Glen Miller’s crooning “At Last”— he whispers into your ear once more.

“What would you say,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning over your neck, “if I asked you to meet me in my room tonight?”

You pull back to meet his eyes, to make sure you understand his meaning. You see a slight nervousness there, tinged with longing, and just below that, a simmering heat that sparks an ember deep in your core.

The two of you had been, er… intimate before. Several times, actually (the fire escape outside his window that happened to also lead to your room in the apartment upstairs made for an excellent escape from both fires and nosy parents wondering what those noises were in the middle of the night), and each time had you seeing stars— sometimes literally if he felt like sneaking you up onto the roof with a blanket on one of the rare clear nights in New York— and longing for the next one. The letters you wrote alternated between sweet and rather scorching when you happened to be in a mood, each of you divulging your fantasies over the years you were apart, hoping to fulfill them when he came home in one piece.

“I’d say,” you murmur, “that I’d love to.”

That bright grin spreads across his face again, lighting him up from the inside out.

“Good,” he says softly, “because I wanna have a proper reunion with my girl.”

His hands slide down to rest low on your hips, pulling you that much closer as his lips seal over yours for a kiss that has butterflies swarming in your belly.

You lose yourself in the feeling of his hands on you, of his lips on yours, in the taste of him— even the utterly foreign (though not unpleasant) feeling of his mustache grazing against your skin has you wanting more, wanting to make up for the time you lost when he was an ocean away.

Something— maybe the crackle of the radio switching stations, maybe some small noise outside, maybe the remnants of the proper girl you should be— brings you back to reality all too soon, and suddenly you’re pulling away and looking up at him regretfully as you remind him:

“Your mother’s probably wondering what’s taking so long.”

He lets out a playful groan, barely heard over the radio as his head slumps onto your shoulder.

“You’re probably right,” he sighs, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as he begins fixing up his appearance; attempting to get his hair to lay flat from where your fingers had raked through it, wiping away your bright red lipstick smeared around his mouth, “Let’s go.”

Once you’ve reapplied your lipstick and made an attempt to fix your rumpled clothes and hair, he leads you back into the living room where his mother and sister are lounging in the armchairs next to the radio.

“Sorry, Ma,” he says, cheeky grin firmly back in place as the two of you settle on the loveseat nearby, “Had to squeeze in a dance with my girl.”

You bite back a squeak of surprise as his hand— out of sight of his mother and sister— drifts dangerously low on your hip to give you a playful squeeze, all while maintaining that trademark sparkling Rosenthal grin.

“You two are so sweet,” his mother coos, and you can’t help the shy smile creeping onto your face as you lean into Rosie.

Nor can you help the laugh you let out when you see Rosie sticking his tongue out at Jeanie, presumably in retaliation for the disgusted look on her face.

“Robert,” she scolds, “Be nice to your sister.”

“But Ma—”

“And Jeanette,” she turns to his sister with a rare use of her full name, “Your brother just came home, I won’t have you teasing him for wanting to spend time with Y/N.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but shuts it at her mother’s raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, Robert,” she grumbles stiltedly.

When his mother’s eyes flick to him, Rosie mumbles in the same stilted way.

“Sorry, Jeanie.”

“Thank you,” his mother says crisply, “Now— oh, honey, did I tell you…”

Mrs. Rosenthal somehow has even more neighborhood gossip to tell Rosie, and Jeanie has plenty of questions for her brother about life in England. He happily listens and regales them with stories, his animated way of speaking distracting his family from the way his hand rests on your thigh in plain sight. You should nudge him away, slip your hand into his, do something to make it look more innocent… but you don’t want him to stop tracing patterns onto your thigh over your dress, working his way up and down and back again in a way that makes it very difficult to focus on anything else.

He slips his hand away, a jolt of disappointment running through you at the lack of warmth, just in time for his mother to turn her attention to you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m going to make some tea before we all head to bed, would you like some?”

You politely decline, as you have for the past nearly two years.

It was just you, your father, and your brother after your mother passed when you were four, and when they both enlisted after the Pearl Harbor attack, Mrs. Rosenthal was kind enough to let you, as her daughter's close friend and her son’s girlfriend, temporarily move into her guest room. They were currently somewhere on a boat in the Pacific, and though you were able to send letters back and forth, it was a sporadic way of communicating, and each day you prayed that they would come home safe like your Robbie had.

Jeanette busies herself with the book she had been reading, and Robbie takes the small moment you have for yourselves to pull you close and press a sweet kiss to your cheek, mindful of his sister in the room.

“What was that for?” You ask, grinning. It seems you haven’t stopped smiling since he walked in the door a few hours ago. 

“Just because,” he shrugs, a returning grin brightening his face, “I’m home, and I’m with my girl, and I can give her kisses anytime I want to.”

You don’t think it’s possible for your smile to grow any wider, but it does.

After pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, Rosie turns to his sister.

“Oh, Jeanie, I got you somethin’ while I was over there. Wanted to send it over, but I figured it’d be better if I gave it to you in person.”

He goes over to his pack and rummages around until he produces a small paperback.

“I found this in a bookshop when I was on one of my weekend passes, thought it seemed like something you’d like. Written by a woman, too, isn’t that something,” he says, handing her the copy of Green Dolphin Country, “Happy belated birthday, little sis. Hopefully this makes up a little for the ones I wasn’t here for.”

Oh goodness, your cheeks are starting to hurt, but you can’t stop smiling seeing Jeanie light up at the book. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Jeanie squeals, jumping up to squeeze her brother tight. He returns the hug fiercely, and your heart melts when you see him blinking back tears.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, bright grin back in place as she pulls away to devour his gift, adding teasingly, “Y’know, I heard it ends with—”

“No spoilers!” Jeanie whines.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” Rosie holds his hands up in surrender, “Just tell me how it ends, promise?”

His little sister beams up at him, looking much younger than her actual age of 22.

“Promise.”

Mrs. Rosenthal returns with a tray bearing three mugs of tea, and night winds down with tea and books and soft chatter as one by one you all retire to your separate rooms.

Rosie shoots you a wink, hand drifting dangerously low on your back as he escorts you to your room before heading for his own just across the hall, leaving a lingering kiss on your lips that has you pleading for time to move faster, for his mother and Jeanie to fall asleep quickly so you can meet him without fear of waking them.

You slip into your favorite nightgown— a thin, filmy thing, one Rosie hasn’t seen before— and begin watching the clock as the wait for your agreed meeting time of 12:30 begins.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Therapist

Rosie Rosenthal X Therapist! Reader

Summary: Rosie needs to stop controlling everything; maybe his therapist can help...

Warning: +18/ sub!Rosie/ softdom!reader/ riding/ oral sex (f and m)/ forbidden relationship/ mention of death/ swearing/ praise/ use of Y/n/ fingering/

Word count: 3.0k

Her official job title was military surgeon, but since the soldiers needed someone to talk to, Y/n became their confident and gave them advice, she heard a lot of things every day, but today, her newest patient was Robert ‘Rosie’ Rosenthal. A few weeks ago, he was the only plane back from a mission, he saw everyone go down, word on the base was that he was closing to everyone, he didn’t talk about it with anyone, he shut down and acted like nothing happened. As she got ready to see him, she looked at his file, and she looked at his pictures, he was good looking, but she had to stay professional. She saw man like him all the time, not wanting to show any emotions, acting tough but if she said the right things, she could crack this wall he built up.

When he knocked at her door, he was kind of nervous, he didn’t like to talk about what was happening in the air, not with his colleagues and certainly not with a random person. Y/n opened the door, looking at the pilot in front of her, she told him to come inside as she closed the door behind him. ‘’Major Rosenthal, pleasure to meet you, I’m Dr. Mitchell’’ she introduced herself as she sat on a couch in front of him. ‘’Please, call me Rosie’’ he said, sitting down. ‘’Rosie how are you feeling?’’ she shyly smiled, she saw men all the time, but Rosie was really handsome. She had to supress the thoughts she had, they weren’t professional. ‘’Don’t take it personally, Doc, but I don’t know what I’m doing here’’ he started, anger could be heard in his voice. ‘’I understand your frustration, Rosie, but you did fly the mission with the most casualties’’ she delicately commented.

It had been 45 minutes since the session started and Rosie was impatient, he shouldn’t be here and as beautiful as Dr. Mitchell was, he wanted to get out of her office. ‘’Can I ask you one last question, Rosie?’’ she asked, looking at him. He bobbed his head, slowly, before taking a deep breath. ‘’Do you like being in control?’’ she simply asked. He didn’t understand the question. ‘’In control of what?’’ he spat, frustrated. ‘’Things in your life, the time you get up, what you eat, where you go and in control in aspect of your life, like friendships or sexual intercourse’’ she coughed at the end of her sentence. Her cheeks were becoming red and the air in the room felt heavy. ‘’Yeah, I like to control my own life, and sometimes, uh, yes, I’m, uh in control in the- the- bedroom, why do you ask?’’ he stuttered. He tried to not show how nervous he was. ‘’Because that’s why you’re angry of being here, not having control. I’m going to free you from this session’’ he walked towards the door. ‘’Major, we see each other in a week, during this time, can you try to do something that needs you to not be in control.’’ She blurts out. ‘’Like what?’’ he asks, because nothing comes in his mind. ‘’Ask a friend to set up your alarm, let someone organize something, and if you find a woman, let her be in charge’’ she blushed, again. ‘’Of the date or something.’’ She babbled, trying to not sound like she was encouraging him to have sex with someone. ‘’I’ll try, Doc’’ he said before leaving the room.

She couldn’t sleep, too many sinful thoughts were in her mind. It wasn’t professional to think about a patient that way. What was she thinking, suggesting him to have sex and not being in control?! That night, she tossed and turned, thinking about Major Rosenthal in an incriminating way, good news was, she had one week before seeing him again. Bad news was, she had one week before seeing him again.

He really fucking tried, he let his friend set his alarm, he almost did everything she asked him to, but he didn’t see how it helped him. Plus, he had wet dreams about her all week. He kept thinking about having sex with her, how she would moan his name, how her innocent gaze would be when she sucked him off. He was nervous before his appointment. He didn’t know how his body was going to react when he sees her. Nonetheless, he entered her office, smelling her perfume as he pushed the doors. There she was, wearing a white blouse with a beige skirt. When she turned to face him, he thought he was going to faint, since when did she wore glasses? They were transparent, but still it gave her this innocent look that drove him mad.

‘’Major, how have you been?’’ she smiles as she looks at him. He plays with his fingers a little bit, before sitting down in front of her. ‘’Frustrated, Doc, I’ve tried to give up control, but it’s hard’’ he said. That and the fact that he kept thinking about having sex with her didn’t help. ‘’And what did you try to do?’’ she bit her lips as she wrote what he was saying. The air was hot in the room, Rosie was practically boiling alive. ‘’Everything, except things that involved a woman’’ he admitted. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek to supress a grin on her face. She looked at his lips, God she wanted to kiss him right now. She cleared her throat as she pushed her thoughts far away, at least she tried. ‘’And how did it go?’’ she asked. ‘’Like shit, I don’t understand how this is going to help me getting back in the plane’’ he confesses. ‘’Rosie, the urge you feel, of getting back in the plane. That’s because you feel guilty of being alive. You don’t understand why them and not you.’’ She blurts out. ‘’Can I sit next to you’’ he asks, before getting up. Y/n nods and bites her lips again. He was listening to her psychoanalysis of him, watching her face, seeing how she blushed her she caught him looking at her. ‘’But maybe I’m wrong’’ she whispered, looking at him. ‘’Do you have problems with proximity?’’ she asks him. She watches as he shakes his head. ‘’So, you don’t think that everyone around you is going to die?’’ she clarifies. ‘’Why all these questions, Doc?’’ his voice was low, making her shiver.

‘’I’m just trying to understand your mind’’ she breaths out. He noticed how her breathing got quicker and her pupils were dilated. ‘’I just think we would have a clearer idea of what’s rushing you back if you opened up to me’’ she stated, avoiding eye contact, he was so damn beautiful, Y/n thought that if their eyes met, she was going to be as red as a tomato. The tension in the air was dangerously close to burst. He moved his leg ‘accidentally’ touching hers, he watched as she hissed, but she wasn’t scared, she was in the same state as him; desperate. ‘’You’re right, Doc, I feel guilty for being alive, so I try to control everything around me, but this week as been torture. I kept thinking about you’’ he admitted, he wanted to see if she was bold enough to flirt back. Y/n blushed even harder as she took her glasses off, putting them on the side table. She looked at Rosie. ‘’What were you thinking about’’ she tried to stay professional, but it was hanging by a thread. She moved her leg so their leg would touch. He looked at their legs and looked back up to her. ‘’Testing your theory with you, Doc’’ he admitted. Y/n blinked multiple times before biting her lips, again. ‘’Really?’’ she flirted, still not daring to look at him in the eyes. ‘’Dead serious, you’re all I’ve been thinking about all week’’ he leans closer to her face, he could hear her heart beating really fast. ‘’And what are you going to do about it?’’ she breathed out as her eyes trailed all over his body. He smirked; she was flirting back. ‘’I can think of a few things, but again, I’m not good at letting someone else be in control’’ he teased. ‘’I can teach you how’’ she said, against his lips. They took one last look at the other before breaking the rules and kissing each other.

He made clear that he was going to be the dominant one, but Y/n had to remind him. ‘’I’m in control, remember Rosie’’ she grins as she kisses his neck. ‘’Then show me -ah- show me how to let go’’ he breathed out. She smiled as she pushed herself on top of him, as she began to grind her hips, his hands found their way on her thighs. ‘’Let me take care of you, Rosie’’ she whispered in his ears. Y/n felt his erection on her covered core, she wanted him so much. They were both breathing heavily, he watched her breast move as she breathed. He began unbuttoning her blouse, she looked at his fingers with a smirk on her face. She kept moving her hips to a slow, sensual pace, it drove him crazy, he needed her to do something else. His knuckles were turning white, he was gripping the couch too tightly. ‘’Use your words, Major. You want me to do something, you ask’’ she breathed out, kissing his neck. He threw her blouse on the ground and kissed her collarbones. ‘’Please, Doc, ah, please do something’’ he whimpered. Y/n grins before sliding off his lap to kneel in front of him.

‘’You touch me, and I stop, got it?’’ she looked at him in the eyes. His chest was rising with pleasure, how he wanted to take control. He quickly nodded before unbuckling his belt. He let the woman take his pants and boxer off. She was surprised by his length, he was big. She licked her lips before pressing small kisses on the top. Y/n could see Rosie struggling to keep his hands to himself. He threw his head back and his pulse quickened. Y/n kept kissing the top on his length, then she brought one hand at the base of his cock and started to slowly, stoke it. She saw goosebumps on his thighs. ‘’Words, Major’’ she reminded him. ‘’I need you to suck me off, please, Doc, plea’’ his word got lost in throat when she fully took him in her mouth. He moaned in surprise, causing the woman to giggle, sending vibration on his cock. He couldn’t help it, one of his hands went in her hair, she moved her head back, taking his length out of her mouth, making Rosie whimper. ‘’No hands’’ she smirked.

Rosie wanted to say fuck those rules so bad, but he thought that she was so hot, taking control and taking care of him like that. So, he took his hand off and she resumed what she was doing. She never could’ve guessed how vocal Rosie was, whimpers, breathy moans, small growls and shaky breath, that man wasn’t afraid of making sure she knew she pleasured him. Y/n felt his length throb in her mouth, she looked up and it was a sight for sore eyes. His shirt was unbuttoned, showing his abs, his head was thrown back and his Adam apple kept bobbing. Then, when she felt him getting close, she stopped everything. ‘’No’’ he whined. Y/n smiled and got up in front of him, stripping from her skirt. ‘’I didn’t even touch you’’ he tried to plead his case. ‘’I need to come, please, Doc, let me come’’ he begged. He looked so good like this, begging and submissive. His cheeks were red, he looked sweaty but in a hot way. ‘’You want to come, Major’’ she teased in a sensual voice. He nodded, swallowing hard. ‘’Please’’ he whispered. She got rid of her panties, he wanted to touch her so bad, so he swallowed his pride and decided to fully give her control. ‘’Can I touch you, Y/n?’’ her name rolled off his tongue like a prayer. She looked at him, smiling as she sat on the couch in front of him, she spread her legs and looked at him. He got off the couch and crawled to her, he was like a starved man. She had to stay strong, because the look he gave her as he crawled to her was enough for her to throw every ounce of feminism out the window. His eyes were dark, his mouth slightly opened, and his curls were messy. When he reached her, he trailed his hands on her bare thighs, before pulling her closer to him by the back of her thighs. She yelped, surprised by his move. ‘’Can I, please, eat you out?’’ he pleaded, looking at her in the eyes. ‘’Yes, Major’’ she breathed out. He sunk between her thighs and pressed small kisses to her inner thigh before kissing her exposed flesh.

His mouth felt so good, his mustache was adding something else, it was itching, but it felt so good. She threw her head back as her hands found his curls. He thought about playing with the same rules as hers, but she was in control. He was humming around her clit, sending vibrations that drove her mad. One of Rosie’s hands snuck up to play with her breast. She put one of her hands on top of his, she squeezed it to show him how he made her feel. Y/n arched her back as she moaned his name. But Rosie’s other hand pressed down on her stomach, adding pressure. ‘’Oh shit, Rosie, I’m close’’ she breathed out. He hummed to show her that he heard her, then decided to stop playing with her breast, he inserted one finger inside of her. ‘’Holy fuck, you’re soaking wet. Is that because you like to be in control? Uh, you like to be in charge’’ He grins, she felt hot around his finger. ‘’Yeah, right there’’ she breathed out. He looked at her, she looked like a goddess, her hair messy, her skin glowing with the coat of sweat, he could’ve come just with this sight. As he added another finger, he felt her clench around him. ‘’That’s right, come for me, pretty girl’’ he praised her. That was enough to send her over the edge, she arched her back as she was sent into pure extasy.

It took her a few minutes to recover, but when she did, she slid down the couch, to reach Rosie. He was seated against the other couch; she got on top of him. His arms were laid on the couch, he looked so ridable. ‘’Ready, Major?’’ she asked against his lips. ‘’Please, ride me’’ he sighed. Y/n positioned herself on top of him, their lips were touching, but they weren’t kissing. She sunk down on him, they both breathed out, shakily as Y/n took the time to adjust to him. ‘’Fuck’’ he moaned. He kissed her neck, to distract her from the uncomfortable stretching. When she felt ready, she began rocking her hips. ‘’Can I touch you?’’ he moaned. ‘’Yes’’ she whimpered. He places his hands on her hips, to try and guide her to a faster pace, but she denied him. She shook her head as she slowed down the rhythm. ‘’Nah, I’m still in control’’ she smirked. He pushed his tongue on his cheek as he caressed her hips. The smell of sex in the room was intoxicating. She began to rock her hips faster, because it was torture for her too. She arched her back as she kissed him sloppily. The pleasure was too much, she bit down his bottom lip, not too hard, but hard enough to send shivers down his spine. He decided that he wanted more intimacy, so he put his hands on her back and came closer to her body, he was hugging her, but the proximity allowed his pelvic bone to touch her clit and add stimulation. She put her hands in his back, scratching him in the process. The pace was fast, raw, sensual, almost animalistic. They both needed a release. ‘’I’m close, please let me come’’ he moaned in her ear. ‘’Please, please, please’’ he kept begging. Y/n’s brain started to form a sentence. ‘’Come with me, at the same time’’ she ordered. Since he was close, he decided to drop one of his hands and stimulate her clit with his fingers. Right now, she couldn’t care less about him asking permission to finger her, she was close, and he was helping her get there.

Rosie felt Y/n clench around his dick, her thighs started to shake from all this stimulation, he sucked on her neck. ‘’I’m gonna cum, c’mon pretty boy, cum with me!’’ she whined. ‘’You’re doing so good’’ she praised him. It was enough to trigger both their climax, they were a moaning mess as their body shook from pleasure. Y/n could feel his hot release throbbing inside of her and slipping on her inner thigh. They were both out of breath and glistening with sweat.

It took a minute for the both of them to come down from Nirvana. ‘’That was’’ he started, out of words to describe what just happened. ‘’See, letting someone else in charge can be fun’’ she chucked. He rolled his eyes as be playfully hit her ass. She yelped in surprise but smiled. Y/n got up first, even though she didn’t trust her legs, she got her panties back on as she sat on the couch. Rosie got up too, putting his boxers back on and sitting next to her. ‘’Thank you, Y/n, for everything’’ he said, kissing the top of her head. She smiled at the small display of affection. ‘’It was my pleasure.’’ She teased. They both laugh and look at each other. ‘’Do you think you could move my next appointment to earlier in the week?’’ he asked, making her laugh. ‘’Why?’’ she asked. ‘’Because I’m a hard learner and I’ll have to give you control again.’’

[unhappycylinder]

My Lucky Charm (Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x Reader)

Description: As an aircraft mechanic, it's your job to keep the planes in pristine condition, but Rosie makes your job difficult for more reasons than one

No warnings, just mutual pining and some kissing!

-

It wouldn’t work. No matter how hard you tried, the rudder just simply would not work. The German’s had shot the B-17 to shit just the day before, leaving Rosie and his crew limping home in a plane missing a critical flight control. 

As a flight mechanic, fixing up these planes as quickly and efficiently as possible was your sole responsibility. No matter what condition they were brought back to you in, you had to find a way. 

And boy did these pilots like to bring them back in less than ideal conditions.

It was one of his first missions though, so you had to cut him some slack for completely severing all connection between the rudder and the flight deck. What you would never forgive him for, however, was the endless climbing up, around, over, and through the B-17 that this repair necessitated.

At this particular moment, you found yourself perched on the tail of the plane, one leg on either side of the fuselage, as you were hunched over desperately trying to attach the rudder cable to its hook.

“Seems I left her in pretty bad shape,” the familiar Brooklyn accent chimed from behind you. 

You sighed, stretching your back as you unfurled yourself and turned around to meet Rosie’s gaze, smiling at the lieutenant who stood below you on the tarmac.

“You could say that again,” you joked, smiling down at him as you ran a hand through your hair.

“Need some help?” He asked, taking his hands out of his pockets, “what’s the trouble?”

You hummed, using your wrench to gesture to the tail of the plane, “rudder cable isn’t wanting to attach…and when it does, it won’t take inputs from the yoke”

“Hm,” Rosie squinted, moving to stand alongside the airplane, hands on his hips as his elbows threatened to graze your leg while you both stared at the exposed tail.

You turned back to the plane, fiddling with the cables as Rosie watched from below.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, feeling something snap into place, “oh my god,”

“Did you do it?” Rosie asked excitedly.

“You must be my lucky charm, Rosenthal,” you beamed at him, the relief of finally finishing your repairs for the day washing over you.

“Nah,” Rosie shook his head, blushing at the ground, “you’re just the best mechanic we got around here”

Sliding off the fuselage, you landed mere inches from him on the tarmac.

This proximity was foreign to you and Rosie. Sure, you had exchanged smiles, salutes, and handshakes in between missions and repairs, but you had never been this close to each other, mere inches separating you. Staring up at his blue eyes, you tried your best to keep the blush on your cheeks at bay, but that was a lost cause because Rosie definitely noticed your face turning a little more crimson than it was just a few seconds earlier.

He smiled, blue moons staring down at you with pride, “I think I owe you one after this, Y/N”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you smiled.

-

One day later and you were sat in the truck with Lemmons awaiting the return of the 100th bomb group. The summer sun was beating down on your exposed skin as you reclined in the truck bed, your coveralls tied around your waist, an army-issued tank top covering your chest.

“I hear them” Lemmons perked up, starting the truck engine and waking you up from whatever daze you were in. Shaking yourself awake, you jumped into the passenger seat as Lemmons drove the truck down the tarmac to the runway.

Quickly, smoke and the sound of sputtering engines filled the sky, but only one plane was headed for the runway. Flying a shaky final approach, smoke trailed from almost all of the engines, flak decorating every surface on the warbird.

A sense of panic settled over the entire base as the CO’s scanned the horizon for more planes and every available mechanic rushed to the badly damaged aircraft. As you and Lemmons got closer you recognize the craft, its Rosie, and as much as you hated to admit it, you felt nothing but relief for a brief second.

Cutting through the grass and parking in front of the plane, the mechanics and medics got to work immediately. You ran to the left wing, clamboring on top of it and purging the engines of any oil and fuel which might cause a fire. 

Beneath you, men with missing limbs and gushing wounds were being carried from the plane and carted off to the infirmary. You found yourself distracted from your work, glancing at each of the men and returning dutifully when you didn’t recognize any of them as Rosie. 

Then, hunched over from beneath the wing, he appeared. Rosie’s sweat-covered curls caught the sun as he glanced at the carnage happening around his beloved plane, his shoulders tense and his uniform covered in soot. 

“Rosie” you gasped, sliding off the wing and landing near him. His gaze remained transfixed on the world around him.

You reached up, gently placing a hand on his cheek and turning his face to look at you.

“Rosie,” you whispered, his eyes finally connecting with yours, “are you hurt?”

He shook his head, his normally concentrated and thoughtful eyes darkened with fury and confusion. Still cupping his cheek, you rubbed gentle circles with your thumb, attempting desperately to bring the pilot back down to earth.

“You made it Rosie, you’re okay, your crew is gonna be okay…and you brought her back to me in one piece,” you forced a chuckle, hoping to break him from this trance.

“Yeah,” he nodded frantically, moreso in an attempt to keep himself from breaking than in response to you.

 “Rosie I-” you began, reaching for him with your other hand. Just then, two medics came and swept him away. 

As they walked, his head snapped up and his blue eyes locked with yours. He seemed to send a soft smile your way, but he was tucked into a truck before you could read his expression. 

-

New pilots arrived the very next day, flooding the barracks with their freshly minted canvas bags, neatly pressed uniforms, and unwavering American confidence…and you hated it. 

For five days you had entertained the cockiness of the new blood, putting up with the cat-calls and demeaning comments that flooded your ears whenever they walked by a plane you were working on.

Its not like this wasn’t commonplace…it was how most of the men at Thorpe Abbotts treated you…it just wasn’t how Rosie treated you.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t noticed his absence. He had been sent to a recovery facility, affectionately called the Flak House by everyone on base, and had been AWOL from your life for five days. It was taking a toll on you that you never could have foreseen.

Rosie’s anger in his eyes when he crawled out from under that wing, the potential smile he directed to you as he got into the medic truck, and the proximity you shared when you were fixing his plane the other day all played through your head like scenes in a film that you couldn’t turn off. 

The worst part was, you had no idea when you’d see him again…if you’d see him again…but you just couldn’t get him off your mind. Not only was he the most handsome man on base, he was the only one who treated you with respect, and you’d be an idiot to not have feelings for him.

-

The company band tried their best to play Glen Miller in the dance hall, lively trumpet solos making up for the lack of a clarinet at the base. It was Saturday night, which meant it was alight with chipper airmen and poorly crafted wartime cocktails, and you found yourself at the heart of it.

Pilots, naviagators, bombardiers and the like swarmed the hall in droves, dancing and chatting with the handful of ladies who worked at the base. Seated at a table with one of the other female mechanics, you couldn’t help but laugh at the airmen as they failed to hold their alcohol. 

The new boys came up to your table one after another, seemingly failing to recognize you out of your coveralls, exchanging the cat-calls and insults for flirtations and compliments. Of course, you brushed them off, because even though you’d love to put one of those show-offs in their place and embarrass him on the dance floor, you couldn’t bring yourself to dance with any of the aviators except one. 

You let them buy you drinks and sit at the empty seat at your table, shooting knowing glances at your fellow mechanic each time they said something stupid. And before you knew it, the hall was starting to clear out. All that remained were a few couples on the dance floor, a handful of the new pilots swirling their whiskeys at the bar, and a group of beaten-up Thorpe veterans seated in leather armchairs in the corner. 

Sipping the last of your drink, your eyes drifted to the doorway where a very put together man in slacks and a dark leather jacket was walking in.

The man walked to the group in the leather chairs, squeezing each one on the shoulder as he passed them before making a beeline for your table.

“Y/N,” the other mechanic said, “Rosie’s back”

Her voice faded into the music as your eyes finally focused on the dark-haired man in front of you. His eyes were clear, his mutache neatly trimmed, and an uncontrollable smile stretched across his face, accentuating his smile lines.

You stared up at him, not caring about the deep blush you felt creeping onto your cheeks, or the smile you felt threatening your lips.

“I think I owed you one, Y/L/N,” his voice was music to your ears.

“I think you’re right, Rosenthal,” you smiled.

He offered his hand, helping you stand up before walking you to the bar, his hand moving to gently graze your back as you walked.

Ordering you both a drink, Rosie smiled at you as he leaned against the bar. He opened his mouth to speak when a new song started playing…it was Artie Shaw…and if anyone knows anything about Robert Rosenthal, its that he loves Artie Shaw.

“Dance with me, will ya?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing as he held out a hand.

You nodded, taking his hand once again and following him to the dancefloor. Keeping your hands together, his other hand snaked around your back and rested on your hip. You moved your free hand up his chest and onto his shoulder. 

Rosie blushed, that same smirk forming on his lips.

“Before I left…right after we landed and we were talking under the wing…what were you about to say?” He asked, blue eyes staring down at you.

“Oh…” you blushed, avoididng his gaze.

“Come on Y/N,” he smiled playfully, “tell me”

“I can’t, its embarrassing,” you laughed, afraid to tell him what you had been dying to confess for days.

He got closer to you, his breath tickling your neck as he whispered into your ear, “please, tell me what you were gonna say”

“Rosie,” you turned to look at him, his face mere inches from yours.

“I-” you began, deciding it was now or never, “I was gonna tell you that I was so relieved when you came home safe because…because I was so worried about you, and I didn’t want to lose you before I had the chance to tell you that I-”

Rosie’s eyes stayed transfixed on your lips as you spoke, a smirk returning to his face. 

You struggled to get the words out, completely overwhelmed by Rosie’s intoxicating presence.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

“Hm?” You hummed, staring into his eyes.

“I think you’re my lucky charm too,” he smiled as his hand left yours to cup your cheek.

You blushed, eyes closing as Rosie leaned down and caught your lips in his, capturing you in a gentle kiss that sent your mind reeling with emotion.

Pulling away, you beamed at each other as Rosie spoke, “I’ve been dying to do that”

“Rosie,” you raised your eyebrows, “you and me both”

Tucking your head into his chest, you and Rosie swayed until the band stopped playing and the hall closed down for the night. This was going to make work a lot more complicated.

-

[cosmicoatlatte]

────── ☆ kinktober 2024

preferences - marking

characters: john 'bucky' egan, gale 'buck' cleven, marjorie 'marge' spencer, curtis 'curt' biddick, robert 'rosie' rosenthal, harry crosby, joseph 'bubbles' payne, james douglass, everett blakely, howard 'hambone' hamilton, john brady, ken lemmons, bernard 'benny' demarco, charles 'crank' cruikshank

☆ — John 'Bucky' Egan

Leave marks. Oh please please mark him up. Just give him something that proves it’s real. Bite the soft inside of his thighs until he’s whimpering. Bruise his ribs with your knees. Kiss him until his lips are swollen. Dig your nails into his skin. He wants to be claimed so desperately. It’s a thing of pride for him when others see the marks so he’s not going to hide them but if he’s feeling humble he won’t purposefully brag about them to the guys. Did get in trouble for visible hickeys before. Will get in trouble for visible hickeys again. 

John is a biter. He needs to keep his mouth busy and what better way to do that then to taste your skin. He’s gentle until you tell him otherwise. The amount of hickeys on your neck and chest is just obscene. 

100% a boob sucker. That doesn’t have anything to do with marking you up. It just needed to be said.

 

☆ — Gale 'Buck' Cleven

He is a straightforward guy when it comes to leaving marks on you. On the rare occasion that he wants to stake a claim, a singular, well placed love bite, just light enough not to be obvious unless you're looking, graces your skin. Almost discreet. Almost able to pass as a mistake. But Gale knows better and truthfully so do you. 

Gale's not one to parade around his private matters especially when it comes to intimate details but some small marks can pass under his watchful eye. Love bites show so easily on his alabaster skin but you might get away with some neat nail marks across his back or bold lipstick smudges. If you place them carefully enough.

☆ — Marjorie 'Marge' Spencer

Marge thinks she’s being sneaky when she leaves lipstick marks on your skin or clothes but it happens far too often for it to be simply accidental. Compared to those rather tame public marks, things like deep scratches from her nails or hickeys are rare because she's careful not to leave any.

Similarly Marge isn't big on marks on herself. She prefers subtle signs of your love, but if you're sweet she’ll let you get away with a few. Somewhere she can hide them. The side of her chest or the inside of a thigh, somewhere only she can see them.

☆ — Curtis 'Curt' Biddick

Oh he is just begging for you to rake your nail down his back, bite his shoulder, suck deep purple bruises into his skin. Curt loves showing off, his skills and bed and the fact that he has you. There's some limits, knowing the boys could see them. Nothing too close to the belt because you’re a respectable lady, they don't need to know how much you enjoy sucking his dick.

When Curt marks you up it's subtle. Surprisingly. A faint love bite or some hand shaped bruises on the meat of your hips where he held onto you. Even though you have to beg for the latter, plead for him to be rough. Can't have anybody thinking he’d lay hands on his woman, you know?

☆ — Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

Rosie isn't too bad when it comes to leaving marks on you. He's not possessive but things happen and sometimes you'll end up with a love bite or two. Circular, where the curve of your neck meets your shoulder. Easily hidden by the neckline of a blouse. Nothing scandalous. If he's feeling like he needs to stake a claim he'd rather offer you his jacket or stay physically close to you.

On himself though? Oh boy, does he love it. The guys might tease him for the scratches on his back or the marks on his neck but he feels nothing but pride at the thought of being claimed by you. (He is being claimed. This man is a total catch and you need to make sure everybody knows that he is taken and off limits.) Touches them throughout the day as a reminder that they’re there. Maybe smiles to himself a little.

☆ — Harry Crosby

Your Harry’s a little shy when it comes to the marks you leave on him. Hiding them away and blushing in a beautiful deep red whenever somebody points them out. But his bashfulness just makes you want to leave them even more. As his confidence grows so does his pride at being marked. He treats his girl well and gets rewarded for it, nothing special. He still spends time looking at the reminders of your love on his skin in mirrors whenever he has the chance.

When it comes to leaving his mark on you he’s rather careful though. It's one thing to come across your soft skin (and really, such a shame he didn't finish inside of you) but the thought of sending you out into the world all visibly loved up gives him an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

☆ — Joseph 'Bubbles' Payne

It doesn’t even matter if you want to mark Bubbles up or not. Your sweet man bruises like a peach so even the softest nibble is going to leave a spot. Not that he minds at all. There’s nothing but pride in his heart at the thought of carrying around your affection and showing it off. Okay yeah maybe there’s some vanity involved but who wouldn’t feel good about being visibly being claimed. The guys don’t even tease him about it anymore because they know it’ll only make him smile harder.

He can be cheeky when it comes to marking you up in return. Bubbles like to keep it to your neck even though they’ll be the most obvious there. Maybe he’ll be nice and leave them closer to the top where you could hide them with your hair and not down by your clavicles.

☆ — James Douglass

James is always so careful with you. Love bites and hickeys are light little things, easy to cover but present enough to send heat rushing through your body at the thought of them. If he gets carried away they’re never somewhere easily visible. Instead he loses himself between your thighs, loving on the soft flesh until you pull him back to where you need him the most. Or with his face pressed into your chest, sucking left and right until it’s all nice and evenly marked up.

Even though he’s respectfully hiding marks you left on him —those are for his eyes only, thank you very much— those that aren’t as visible tend to be forgotten about and show. Which is how he gets a plethora of questions about the claw marks on his back.

☆ — Everett Blakely

Deep down Everett knows he can get a little possessive but he tries his hardest not to be. You chose him. He chose you. No need to get weird about it… except when he does get weird about it. He likes to leave little reminders for you, not visible for others, just for you to see and think of him. It’s sweet in a way. Him coming across your body, seeing the temporary but definitive claim of your lovemaking, is just for him. Because you let him. It’s a hot memory for cold nights when he’s not with you. Nothing he does is for other people.

Now if you decide to leave very obvious marks on him that broadcast to everyone that he is off the market then that is none of his business. He doesn’t have a monopoly on feeling possessive. Afterall Everett is a beautiful man, a heroic pilot… and he’s yours and you’re not sharing.

☆ — Howard 'Hambone' Hamilton

Oh Hambone just loves marking you up all over and he’s not ashamed of it one tiny bit. He’s not really picky, any mark is a good mark as long as you’re okay with them and he’s always so proud of them. Pressing little kisses to them after, all giggly. Part of him wishes he could take pictures of them just so that he could always look at them. Just imagine how the bite marks would look like with his gold teeth… Pull his hair while he smiles against your skin. But Hambone isn’t just mouthy during sex, sometimes he’ll just pull you into a random corner for a little kiss and you leave with some new hickeys.

You have pretty much free reign to do whatever you want to him. He’ll end up with bite marks on his shoulders just because they’re very biteable when you’re trying to muffle your moans from him fucking you roughly. Claw at his back or bruise up his skin, he’s all for it. The biggest softie when you leave a bright red lipsticky kiss mark on his cheek. He’ll leave it on all day.

☆ — John Brady

Is there any better way to truly claim you and show everybody that you are very taken than putting a baby in you? Aside from your wedding ring and his protective arm around you that never really leaves? John is definitely the type of guy that's mutually possessive. You're his, he's yours. But he also has some couth. There's no need to put love bites anywhere somebody else can see. Besides, they’d fade. At least the bump will stick around for a while.

He doesn't encourage you to leave marks but if you do leave any on him John will look at them as often as he can, sometimes poking them through clothing just as a reminder they're there.

☆ — Ken Lemmons

One hot day in summer sweet lil innocent Kenny Lemmons will pause the repair work on a machine to unzip the top part of his coveralls, stripping out of the heavy material and tying the arms around his waist to reveal the upper body of a man that has been thoroughly mauled and enjoyed each and every second of it. Bite marks and hickeys all worked down his chest in an unmistakable trail and stretch marks criss-crossing the expanse of his back. He is well taken care of. This incident leaves 2 dead, 15 injured, and 1 turned on.

While you won't be taking your clothes off anytime soon, it doesn't take a genius to guess that beneath your modest dress a similar scene would present itself.

☆ — Bernard 'Benny' DeMarco

One prominent hickey on his neck? He can handle that. Two hickeys side by side because you couldn’t help yourself? Hey, he's a gentleman. He doesn't kiss and tell (although the stories he could tell…) But his entire back scratched up worse than that one time Meatball chased after a squirrel and dragged Benny through a thorn bush? Nobody needs to see that. He is keeping his shirt on, thank you very much.

While he's not against leaving marks on you it rarely happens. His nails don't scratch and he is not a biter. Benny's grip is light and loving, not hard enough to bruise. When he leaves a hickey it's well-placed. For you to know about, not for others to see. But while those hickeys might be for your eyes only the visual of his come painted across your body is for Benny alone.

☆ — Charles 'Crank' Cruikshank

Oh sweet sweet Crank. He’s not one to think about marking you up. It happens, occasionally, but never with any real intent behind it. He might just get a little carried away because you’re just too beautiful and he got distracted but when it comes to marking you up he never goes beyond a little love bite or two. Usually pretty hidden as well. Crank loves you but he’s not about to show everybody what goes on behind closed doors. 

If you end up leaving marks on him he gets really shy about it. Crank looks cute all bashful and blushy, and sometimes you just need to stake a visible claim. Not that he could ever be mad at you when you look so proud of your work.

He’s the type of man that really loves just a good necking.