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ginabaker1666 · 2 months

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You Belong To Me

From the Love Letter Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

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

“I’d better see you at Minton’s…”

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

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

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

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

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

Josephine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You promise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did they make it right?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…you did?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, Jo.”

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

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

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

“Come on, pretty girl, let's dance!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh honey…”

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

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

“Pinky promise?”

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

Read Part 2 Here

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

Tag List:

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

#rosie rosenthal x oc #robert rosie rosenthal #masters of the air fic #Robert Rosie Rosenthal x ofc #Gina baker writes #mota fic #Nate Mann

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seas-storyarchive · 3 months

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redeemed rosie - au

[[MORE]]

Rosie, hell born, was redeemed. This was.. a shock.

"How did this happen?" Charlie asked Emily, after they broke the news during a monthly meeting. The woman was a murderous cannibal. So, how the hell!?

"We have a theory." Sir Pentious said, looking from Charlie to the woman.

"The whole system of Heaven is getting a closer look. Those in the seventh and eigth rings are looking over all records, of those in both Heaven and Hell." Emily said, before looking at Rosie. "Well, congratulations, miss Rosie. You made the cut."

"I'm sssure thisss isss a sssshock, missss. I've made ssssure with thosssse on high that you'll have time to get your affairsssss in order." Oh, how kind of him.

"What if I don't want to go?" Rosie was.. oh goodness, this was a shock to her.

Emily shook her head. "This isn't negotiable, ma'am. We," whe gestured to herself and Sir Pentious, "didn't choose, and you can't get out of it."

Well shit. Rosie sighed. "Alright, alright. I'll.." she paused. "I'll get started."

It took about three weeks, sadly, for those affairs to be in order. Organizing her leave from Cannibal Town, passing off her shop, and saying goodbye to her people - it was hard, although Susan's apearance made it just a tad easier. Oh how she'd miss that "ornery old bitch", as Alastor called her.

Oh.. oh Alastor..

Rosie moved into the hotel, finding out that the news had already spread.

"Congrats on da redemption, toots." Angel raised a glass to her.

"We'll miss you!" Niffy had climbed up her dress, holding her around the neck tightly while crying.

"Oh Niffty, tears don't suit that sweet face, little one." Niffty was cradled by Rosie who wiped her tears.

Husk took Niffty back, looking at her with a sad expression. "See you, eventually."

The hotel shook - oh, you thought Alastor was downstairs and saying goodbye? Nope. In his room throwing a tantrum. That shook the building.

Yup, that was what Husk was afraid of.

"He sounds so sad." Niffty said, looking up the stairs.

He's grieving, Lucifer recognized the pain in the roars - having made many of the same noises when Lilith finally left with Charlie.

"Give him a bit." Lucifer said to them.

"He's out of time!" Charlie snapped. "He's got.. I don't know, 12 hours! He should be down here!"

"Charlotte, doll.." Rosie's voice was heavy. "I.. I think I should go to bed." She smiled. "It's.. been a day."

"Oh, okay Rosie." Charlie said to her. "Uh, call if you need anything."

"Thank you dearie." Rosie said, before leaving up the stairs. Why not use the elevator? She needed to think.

Her mind had been so scrambled, she admitted to herself as she walked about the third floor to her room. 333, funny, really. That holy number. Rosie supposed she'd get used to seeing that eventually.

She entered her room, and closed the door. It was quiet, eerily.

"I know that your in here, Al." She said, her voice shaky as she removed her coat, hanging it up. Seeing the red coat opposite to the hook she was placing her coat on.

Taking her eyes off the coat, to her room, she saw the chair now played host to a man with red deer features, his shadow moving about on the floor. Who seemed to be busying himself with something on the coffee table. Upon walking to it, there was a large bottle of whiskey - huh, unopened, such control with his favorite drink - and two glasses.

"Apologies for not going downstairs." Alastor said, pouring the glasses.

Anger filled Rosie first. "Why weren't you? Look, I know that you're hurting, but that doesn't mean that you get to not say anything!"

Alastor looked up at her, something in his eyes made her stop talking. "I am sorry, Rosie." Apparently he internally said fuck it, and downed some whiskey, before continuing. "I didn't want you to see me and decide this.. thing wasn't for you "

"It's non-negotiable." Rosie said, taking a glass and drinking it as well. "I don't have a choice."

As Alastor poured another glass for himself, snorted.

After another drink, she looked at him curiously and angrily as he put the bottle down. "What?"

"The fact that going to Heaven is a non-negotiable, what a bit of dribble." Alastor said, taking a long drink of his glass.

"I'd say more than a bit." Rosie said, taking another drink. When she finished, she looked at him. "Why are you here?"

Alastor sighed, his glass was empty again, and pulling the bottle up and drinking from it. Long and quick, before he said, "isn't it obvious, I enjoy small talk-"

"Shut your mouth." Rosie took the bottle, taking a swig herself - it's one of her last times with her friend, might as well indulge a bit. She set the bottle back down. "We heard your tantrum from downstairs. You know you'll miss me. Hell, I'll miss you, Alastor!"

He kissed her, having jumped from his seat and kissed her. Rosie pulled him against her, gripping his hair in one hand and shirt in the other.

"Don't leave." Rosie said, against his lips.

"That's," he kissed her again, "supposed to be my line."

"I meant tonight you adorable idiot." Rosie kissed him harder, tasting rye, tasting the flesh of whatever he'd last eaten, tasting him.

"I wasn't planning to." Alastor said, letting her pull him back over her. Wrapping his arms around her for their final embrace. That was all he wanted tonight.

The next morning, it was time for Rosie to go.

Rosie said her goodbyes to everyone - making them all promise to look after Alastor for her.

Their hugs were tearful - Angel didn't know the woman too well but he was upset she was leaving, Husk was losing a good friend, and Niffty was screaming from the top of her lungs. The only partial goodbye was Lucifer.

When they piled into the limo, Alastor accompanied them - being Rosie, himself, Charlie and Vaggie - glued to Rosie's side.

They rode and walked into the builing in silence, Charlie on one side of Rosie, Vaggie on Charlie's other side, and Alastor on Rosie's other side.

When they reached the light that was a pillar to take Rosie to the top, it was time.

"Oh Rosie!" Charlie hugged the woman, who she had learned so much from, holding her tight.

"Hey, hey." Rosie held Charlie, shushing her before they pulled back and she cupped her face. "Where's that strong princess? Hm?" She wiped the tears from Charlie's face.

"I'm gonna miss you!" Charlie said, still crying.

"Oh dearie." Rosie kissed her forehead. "You'll be fine, trust me. You got moxie, a strong heart, and good friends." A smile crossed her lips. "I look forward to hearing about all you've been doing down here." She let her go, and passed her treasured cane with a skull to her.

Charlie looked at it, and then to her.

"Something tells me that you'll make good use of this, darling. Keep your head and sporits up, Princess. You'll be great." Rosie smiled to Charlie as she backed up towards Vaggie, who put her arms on Charlie's shoulders.

"Take care of her, alright? She's gonna need you." Rosie said to her. "All of them will."

Vaggie nodded to her with a smile, squeezing Charlie's shoulders. "I- I promise, ma'am. Thank you, for everything." Vaggie's tears fell silently as she looked at the woman, surprised when she was hugged too. They hugged and when they separated, Vaggie smiled again.

Rosie moved back from them to look at Alastor, the man was stone faced save for his eyes. "Alastor.."

His voice came out as a soft croak, "Rosie.."

Who hugged who first, they'll never know. Both holding each other tight, both taking in each other's scents for the final time - him of metal and ink lined book pages, her of roses and vanilla. His tears falling into her hat, hers soaking into his jacket.

When they pulled back - Rosie pulled him into a deep kiss, which surprised him at first, before he relaxed into it. He'd later deny that one of his feet raised and the sight of something moving about under his jacket above the coat tail.

They separated again, their eyes locked together.

"I want you to promise me something, Alastor." Rosie said softly, reaching a hand up to touch his face.

"Anything." Alastor said just as softly, leaning into her hand.

"I want you to try this redemption thing." Rosie said to him. "I want you to promise me that you'll give this a try."

Alastor, after a moment, nodded to her, and quietly saying, "I'll try."

"That's my love." Rosie said softly, giving him another kiss, before fully breaking away, and backing away from him slowly as she said, "look after them, okay, Alastor? Let them in, let yourself heal."

Alastor nodded, his claws running across the sleeves of her dress but not catching as much as he desired to. "I.. I love you." He said, finding his voice, when it was just their hands connected now.

"I love you too, my dear deer." Rosie said, letting go of his hands, letting them run along each other as she stepped into the pillar of light.

And soon, she was gone.

Vaggie looked from Charlie, who was wiping her eyes, to Alastor, who was staring at the pillar. Staying quiet, giving the two a moment.

"Guys, we should go home now." Charlie said, after a few minutes of silence.

"I.." Alastor's words died in his throat, before wordlessly following the two.

Charlie was hurting, gripping the cane as she tried to keep it together. Vaggie was sad and trying to find words of comfort. The two were looking from each other to Alastor.

Alastor was stting there, quietly staring at his hands.

"Alastor.." Charlie put a hand on his, only to feel a tear hit it. When Charlie hugged Alastor, the man started to sob.

Vaggie said nothing, just watched, with a sympathetic frown on her face.

Rosie had been given a warm welcome and an apartment in Heaven. A cozy little place. Bedroom, bathroom, living room, small kitchenette. Her favorite feature was a small radio on the counter. When she looked at it, she noticed the dials - 1890, 1900, 1910, 1920, 1930.

Hmm.

She turned it on, and a familiar voice came through the radio.

"Welcome, residents of Big Easy, New Orleans. It's your radio host Alastor, on for another evening shift. Sit back, relax, and let this classic track from Buddy Bolden fill your souls."

An old radio show, but oh it warmed Rosie's soul to hear Alastor.

After a few days, Rosie was walking through a park, seeing a dark skinned woman with a short cut curled afro sitting on a bench. "Pardon me, miss. Is the other half taken, or.."

The woman shook her head, smiling, moving her bag. "Non, miss. You do be feelin' free to sit here, if you'd like."

"Why thank you." Rosie smiled as she sat down, taking in the view of famies in the park. "It's.. sad, really. Seein' kids, up here." And she came from hell, so that was.. saying something.

"That it is." The woman's voice made Rosie turn to her, looking at the families around her, love and loss mixing in her eyes and a frown on her face.

"Hey, turn that frown upside down." Rosie said with a smile, the woman turning to look at her. "A friend of mine, he always used to say, that you're-"

"Never truly dressed without a smile."

The two were surprised, but Rosie told herself it had to be a coincidence. And then, she forgot her manners. Tsk, Alastor had rubbed off on her, it seemed.

"Pardon my manners, miss. My name is Rosie Hunt." She offered a hand to the woman.

The woman smiled at her, taking her hand, "Lenora Dupuis."

D.. Dupuis!?

"Uh, pardon my askin', but um.. are you related to a charmin' fella by the name ah Alastor Dupuis."

Lenora's eyes widened as well. "If he be about six foot, unruly light curls in his hair that he keeps straight'ned, and speaks in a white man's accent for dah radio, than yes. That would be mah son."

Tall, hair that's naturally curly but he straightens it, and a voice made for-

"I.. I know him." Rosie couldn't stop herself, finding that she wasn't alone and that Alastor had family here was - oh she wasn't about to stop talking to this woman.

"You knew mah son?" Lenora wanted to know more. "Where is he? Is he alright?"

Rosie could just hear the record scratching. "Yes, I- I was very close with him. He's alright. Um, he's.. he's in hell." At the heartbroken look on this woman's face, Rosie quickly said, "but he's in a rehabilitation center for sinners that want to come up here!"

That seemed to calm this woman. "So.." she paused. "How did you know my son, miss?"

"Oh, it's.. complicated. I mean! Oh, where to start.." Rosie took a breath. "We were friends for the longest time. And then.. I fell in love with him, somewhere along the line. And.." she sighed. "As I was leaving.."

"Yes, cher?" Lenora asked, with baited breath.

"We kissed. And.. he told me that he loves me." Rosie said. "He loves me, can you believe it?" She asked the woman who would know Alastor best.

Lenora smiled, a wide grin - no where near where Alastor's stretched, but just the same - and it made Rosie smile too. "I do believe it, cher." She laughed. "I do, indeed." She laughed until she cried. "My boy, mon petit faon, he found love."

Rosie waited until Lenora stopped crying, watching as she pulled a tissue from her pocket and dab her eyes.

Maybe this could be a great friendship, between the two - she'd always wanted to know more about Alastor. They could trade stories and such, get to know each other.

Alastor, after a few days, walked out of his room. He was hungry, tired, had a headache. But he still wanted to bring something up to Charlie.

Alastor began, grabbing a serving of macaroni and some meat that looked edible from the fridge, trying to figure out how to work the microwave.

"Hey Al." It was Charlotte, who was smiling at him - before seeing what he was doing. "Oh, here let me help you." She put the dish in a position where it would heat up the most amount of food, started it and the she turned to the man.

"Are you.. um, how are you?"

Alastor sighed. "Honestly? Not in top shape."

Charlie nodded. "I understand." She smiled. "But hey," she put a hand on his, "let's take it one day at a time."

Alastor nodded. "Oh, and um.. I was wondering.." he took a deep breath. Well, now or never.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering.. how one actually gets this redemption process started."

Charlie's mouth dropped open as the microwave dinged.

"Um.. we'll get started after you eat, okay?" Charlie stepped aside, letting the man get to his food, seeing Vaggie walking by, and saying to Alastor. "Uh, I'll let you eat in peace."

As Alastor tucked in, Charlie pulled Vaggie aside. "Hey, Vaggie.."

"What? Did he say something?" Vaggie summoned her spear.

"No.. he.." she sighed. "He wants to be redeemed."

Vaggie dropped her spear. "Are you sure?"

Charlie nodded to her. "Yes. I think Rosie being redeemed, it changed him. He wants to make that change."

"You're serious?"

Charlie nodded. "Yes."

#redeemed rosie au #hazbin hotel #light radiorose #ofc its radiorose #radiorose #hazbin rosie #hazbin au #hazbin alastor #alastor x rosie

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nocturnalfandomdoodles · 29 days

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tried to give amy a cute dress and now she looks like strawberry shortcake but that's fitting I suppose

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zootopiathingz · 1 month

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rapid fire: what would charlastor name their 15 kids

1. Beatrice

2. Arwen

3. Belle

4. Florence

5. Simon

6. Emily

7. Alastor Jr.

8. Charlotte Jr.

9. Olivia

10. Roseanne

11. Sabrina

12, Harrison

13. Bernadette

14. Madilyn

15. Timothy

#I’m so bad at coming up w/ boy names lmao #anyway most of these are just completely random names I thought of on a whim #but obviously Emily was picked bc charlie absolutely would name at least one of her daughters after her bestie in heaven #and Roseanne is after Rosie ofc!#I also think Beatrice could be like an homage to her auntie Bee #alastor jr and charlie jr are twins and they got lazy lol #y’all know the reason for Belle haha #hazbin hotel #charlastor #radiobelle #charlie x alastor #asks #lady luxo asks

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platonically-loving-alastor · 3 months

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"Alastor backstory!" "Niffty backstory!" yeah yeah, I agree and all, but let's talk about Rosie backstory. I wanna know more about her so bad, girl was giving Charlie a whole therapy session with "Sometimes it's hard to admit to things you're not proud of" "Especially when it hurts the ones you care about" like she's had personal experience on that side of things. I need to know what her deal is, I am begging-

#ofc i still also want alastor and vox backstory too #i need to know if the rumors are true #can't believe i have to wait at least a year and a half to find out #disadvantages of not getting to a fandom years late #hazbin hotel #rosie hazbin hotel

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bandagesandloveletters · 1 month

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Lilla Thornton (Masters of The Air OFC)

Note: A little introduction to my newest original female character for the Masters of The Air universe. Look out for all her adventures in the weeks to come. Word Count: 895 words.

Glass plasma bottles clicked against each other as they moved inside the chipped wooden crate marked "Medical Supplies". Pyramids of morphine syrettes threatened to spill with every second step heavier than the opposite. In a different setting, desperate hands would be grabbing at the morphine, like kids to a bowl of candy. It was a highly sought-after substance on the frontlines by medics, but in the ghostly quiet hallways of the on-base infirmary, no one dared to steal from what supplies graced the stockroom.

In the middle of the infirmary's hustle and bustle lay a heavy oak desk, out of place and odd for its surroundings but very fitting for the occupier who worked upon it, hour after hour.

Thud! Rattle! Clunk! The wooden crate came to rest upon the paper-laden desk as dainty hands rifled through its contents, determined to find the item that she so urgently needed.

"Ah-ha!" the gentle rasp with a Texan accent piped up as she grasped what she was looking for in her left hand. "There you are, you little rascal."

"Still talking to the medical supplies, I see."

"You know me, Nora. If a seasick-riddled boat journey across the pond can't change my ways, it will never happen," Second Lieutenant Thornton chirped as she turned to stand before the friendly face.

Lilla Thornton was a petite girl from Fredericksburg, Texas. Although she was small in stature, she had a big personality. As head nurse, the tiny Texan often had to drum up morale as her fellow medics worked tirelessly on wounded men evacuated from the battle-damaged aircraft returning from missions into occupied Europe. It was almost like working on a production line; as soon as a patient was stable, they'd be moved to a more suitable bed within the infirmary, away from all the chaos.

A no-nonsense kind of girl, Lilla was known for throwing herself into her work, placing it on top of her list before pleasure. Her time at Thorpe Abbotts was a perfect example of this practice. As her nurses clung to the men of the 100th every Friday at the Half Moon Inn, the young Lieutenant would spend her night taking stock of supplies and rolling bandages. Even back home, she'd rather spend her weekends studying or helping her father run the family ranch than travel the hour into Austin to go drinking and galavanting with her friends.

Growing up, she had to learn and take responsibility more quickly than most girls. At the age of seven, her dear mother Tabitha passed suddenly of an unknown illness that doctors were trying to grasp a better knowledge and understanding. Lilla was the eldest of three siblings, meaning any extra time she had after her classes were finished was spent working to bring in extra money to aid the family finances.

Her father, a cripple who couldn't work, always encouraged the brunette to follow her heart, and on the 18th of August 1941, Lilla Thornton joined the Army Nurse Corps. With a passion for helping those in need and a hard-working ethic, Army life came as easy as learning to crawl as an infant.

Training started at Brooke General Hospital, San Antonio, Texas, before she was assigned to the Eighth Air Force as a breakaway unit in September of 1942. A single gold bar sat proudly upon the collar of her dress uniform and the new role of head nurse upon her shoulders.

At Kearney Army Airfield, Nebraska, Lilla made friends with a fellow nurse from Louisiana. Like Lilla, Nora was a serious person putting just as much dedication into her role as a nurse as the Texan girl did. Nora and Lilla forged a friendship that would stand the test of time.

Thrusting the two bottles of saline towards the medic, followed by some syrettes of morphine, Lilla raised an eyebrow in question at the female before her.

"This should be more than enough for now. You don't happen to have any chocolate in your magic box, Lieutenant Thornton?" Nora’s Southern drawl emphasized certain words as she asked the smaller female.

Holding up a finger, Lilla turned and began to search through a heavy oak drawer connected to her desk before producing a foil-covered article. Chocolate had become a rare commodity, especially with all the rationing the Americans faced while living in England, and what they could get a hold of tasted far from what they were used to back home.

"This is my last ration for this month. It better be for a good reason you’re looking for some. You owe me one, Nora."

"You got my word, Li. If you have the time, can you check on Lieutenant Payne? I think he's coming down with pneumonia."

Looking up from her clipboard at the mention of one of the navigators, Lilla nodded. It was apparent there was some kind of bug going around the base. She’d already treated a few men with similar symptoms.

"I don't have long left until I've finished my shift here, but I'll be round as soon as possible. Just make sure he's kept warm until I get there."

Returning her attention to the crate of supplies, Lilla sat down behind the desk to begin the final stock check of her shift.

#hbo war #masters of the air #rosie rosenthal #original character #original female character #lilla thornton #lilla thornton x rosie rosenthal #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air original female character #nix writes #OFC #ladies of hbo war #1940s character #women's army nurse corps

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pebblerosegamer · 4 months

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meet horn and tree

#old doodle i did #i utterly forgot of these two and just saw em in my album and chuckled #love how on the cloak it says “cloak”#poor horn their horns must get in the way sm #my pile of rocks #hollow knight #my rosy doodles #hk vessel oc #<- last tag with a grain of salt lol #tree ofc inspired by wl #might draw em again for funsies we'll see

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mooncalf87 · 2 months

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to my moots: I have never talked to nearly any of you but seeing you guys in my post notifs RIGHT AWAY when I post it. Moot magic <3<3 love yall

#im afraid of you Asmodeus tho #you like everything i post within 10 seconds usually #no matter the time of day #that blue pfp shows up in my notifs #you are FAASSSTTT #anime-manga-lover with the fat nuggets pfp <3 #the person eith the rosie and al pfp that is like “fandomlover1” im too tired to remember ypur name im sorey #ozzie ofc #angie too even tho you are not moots (you repost nearly eveeythinf i post LMFAO)#prismantic-think-thoughts 💜 we have formed an unspoken bond after the shit ton of boops you dropped me dyrinf april fools #then Fallowtail and Bubble ofc ive known you guys for. a while. especially Fallow #love you all <3 #im going to bed now NIGHTIE NIGHTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

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roseverdict · 6 months

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don't cry. pour a small-seeming serving of any pasta noodle you'd like in a deep microwave-safe bowl, just barely cover the noodles with water, microwave for roughly 2 minutes 30 seconds, stir, microwave for 2 more minutes, carefully drain the pasta water from the pasta, liberally mix shredded non-mozzarella cheese into the hot noodles, and pour small amounts of milk in (maaaybe a school milk carton's worth or two at most) to taste and to make it creamier, okay?

#rosie babbles #nightblogging #recipe #macaroni #nothing against mozzarella ofc. it's just that the traits that make it perfect for mozza sticks and string cheese make for abysmal sauce #and you Will want to be careful with your water levels.#either that or be ready to use a sizable amt of paper towel to mop up the microwave platter.#also the timing can be fiddled with. experimentation is fun :)#you can also be like me and add garlic salt to the cheese sauce but i'm well aware i'm probably a bit of a freak like that xD #the fun thing abt this is that it's quicker than making actual boxes of macaroni #but allows for much more fiddling than Follow The EasyMac Instructions #literally the only bad-tasting version of this i've made so far was the one where i forgot to drain the water first.#also re: the water #depending on the bowl and your arm/wrist/grip strength you can carefully tilt the bowl over the sink #and use a spoon to hold the noodles back as you drain it #noodles that have been tested: egg. macaroni. small shells. bowtie (better eaten w/fork not spoon).#cheeses that have been tested: 'mexican-blend' shredded. additional pcs from sliced cheddar and colby jack #cheeses to avoid: mozzarella #i'd test this with lactose-free dairy #but i live in a house where cow milk is king and dairy substitutes are always easy targets for complaining #i can't think of any reason swapping out dairy for non-dairy or regular noodles for gluten-free noodles would cause issues tho

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miles-alexander-teller · 6 months

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#miles teller #precious little baby boy #look at those cheeks #such rosy cute cheeks #and ofc never forget the fucking chain #that chain #the chain has its own fandom now #like the bronco

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invisiblehoodie14 · 3 months

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ANOTHER ART DUMP WOO

These are sketches or pages whereeee I liked how they turned out :]

#drawing on paper #ma art #woo we got like 3 fandoms here #rottmnt #helluva boss #hazbin hotel #rottmnt casey jones #rottmnt donnie #moxxie helluva boss #millie helluva boss #blitz helluva boss #hazbin Charlie #hazbin alastor #hazbin rosie #then the random people ofc~#OH ALSO the girl in the alone standing shot is my first April design for my iteration

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ginabaker1666 · 1 month

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This Is Always

From the Love Letter Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

The holidays are usually a time to be spent together, cold noses warmed by the fire, and joyful cheers as the New Year approaches. This year, Rosie is struggling with being away from Jo, and acknowledging the future that he dreams of sharing with her. A heart to heart with Crosby helps put things into perspective for both of them.

Read Part 3 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

January 1944

My Dearest Jo,

Happy New Year, honey pie! It’s just after midnight here, and though I wanted to be the first person to wish you a Happy New Year, I know that by the time you get this, it will be after the fact. I guess by writing this now, while it’s still ‘43 back home, I’m letting myself be greedy in being the first to send you those wishes. I hope you’re doing something fun tonight, and getting all dolled up to paint the town red. Your last letter came just after Christmas, but I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you just how happy it made me to hear that you were still doing all of your usual Christmas favorites, even if I’m not home to carry all your shopping bags back to Brooklyn after a full day in the city. Believe me, I even miss doing that, no matter how heavy some of them are.

I got Ma’s last letter just a few days before yours arrived, and she mentioned that you went by the house to celebrate Hanukkah with her and Jeanie. I know that made her really happy, and I can’t thank you enough for keeping an extra eye on both of them for me while I’m stuck over here. My sister would argue that she doesn’t need anyone keeping an eye on her, but I’m sure she appreciates your company, and will rub it in my face after the fact that she got to spend so much time with you. That’s what little sisters do, isn’t it?

We had a small thing in the Officers Club for the holidays; nothing too fancy, but there was music, and some good liquor that someone managed to scrounge up for the occasion. The Red Cross Clubmobile girls pulled some resources and, even with rationing, managed to bake a few cookies for us. They were good, but they couldn't hold a candle to yours.

I have never wanted one of your Christmas cookies more than after reading your letter, and to know that Jean Crosby took over as the official taste tester this year; oh it broke my heart darling. But, I’m glad to know that you two girls are keeping each other company, and I know that Croz is happy knowing that she’s not alone. I do hope you two aren’t causing too much trouble while we’re away. Knowing you the way that I do, I know that’s a bit of a pipe dream, but one of the reasons I adore you the way that I do.

At the risk of sounding melancholy, I’ve spent most of today wishing I could take you dancing; spin you around until we’re both dizzy, until finally we can ring in the new year with champagne. Crowded on the dance floor at Minton’s, wrapped up in each other. Maybe it’s bold of me to ask, or maybe it’s the whiskey, but would you have allowed me a midnight kiss, Jo? I can’t picture kissing anyone else as the clock strikes twelve, nor do I want to, on this holiday or any other day. I hope that by next year, we'll be able to spend the evening together, and not have to send holiday wishes in letters that take too long to get there.

I dream of you every night, sweetheart, and every night these sweet dreams end with a kiss before I’m pulled back to reality. I’ve been dreaming of the future, and if the real thing is anything like my dreams, I can’t wait for those days to begin. I wonder,do you dream of those days too? Of building a home together, a life that’s just ours. Living in the city, maybe somewhere near Harry and Jean. We could go to the pictures on Friday nights, and sleep in on Saturday’s, warm under the blankets until we peel ourselves from the sheets only because we need to make coffee. I’d spin you around the kitchen while we made breakfast, a record on the Victrola, the two of us tangled together while the eggs burned. The more I think about it, the more it all sounds like a dream come true.

Maybe it is the whiskey talking, but it’s getting late here. Or early depending on how you look at it, and even though we aren’t flying tomorrow, I’m sure the rest of the fellas will be returning from the Officers Club soon enough. I’ll be dreaming of you tonight, sweetheart, and counting the days until we’re together again.

Sending you millions of hugs and kisses, and all of my love.

Yours for always

Robbie

Rosie took a deep breath, and without giving himself a chance to second guess anything in his letter, folded it up and slid it inside the envelope. He’d address it in the morning and drop it off at APO so that it went out with the next mail call; tonight it would remain on the nightstand next to his bed, with Jo’s photo. He was still in his uniform, not having bothered changing after he returned to the Officer’s hut, and was about to take advantage of the empty shower stall, when the door swung open and Harry walked in.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Harry spoke, hand coming up to loosen his tie.

“Yea, I uh, wanted to get a letter out to Jo,” Rosie signed, dragging his hand down his face. ‘Or at the very least, written.”

“It’s rough around the holidays isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Harry knew as well as he did, and he knew his friend was giving him an opening to get his feelings off his chest.

“Probably the most difficult part of all this. We’ve spent every Christmas and Hanukkah together since we met.”

“She celebrates Hanukkah with you and your mom?”

“Jo is the best gift giver in our family, according to my sister.” Rosie grinned.

“Sounds like your sister will be the disappointed one if you don’t put a ring on Jo’s finger when we get home.” Harry chuckled, dropping down onto his own bed, across from Rosie’s.

“She’d have to fight my Ma for the top spot, if I don’t marry Jo.”

The two shared a quiet moment as their thoughts drifted to a place far from England. Far from flak and casualties and torn fuselages. No thoughts of missing friends, mission counts or that damned red light never blinking off.

Rosie knew that Harry understood better than anyone; how it felt to be so devoted to someone, and yet, he felt compelled to ask the one question that, if he had to wager, everyone asks at some point.

“How’d you know Jean was the one?” He asked after a moment, gaze turned upward to meet that of his friend.

“She wanted nothing to do with me when we met,” Harry balked so loudly that it seemed to echo off the walls of the Nissen Hut. “But I knew. I didn’t want to spend another day without her.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Oh yeah, you just know,” Harry nodded. “When did you know Jo was the one? And don’t tell me you didn’t…”

“Let’s just say I should have opened my mouth a long time ago.”

“Well, better late than never.”

“What if I was too late, Croz?”

Harry stood from his bed, moving around the front to lean himself against the footboard. With a determined gaze, he made sure he had Rosie’s full attention before saying what was on his mind.

“You can’t think like that. You need to believe you’re going home to her, that you two will have a life after all this.”

“God, I hope so.”

“I don’t know Jo as well as you do,” He started. “I only know what Jean tells me in her letters, but it sounds to me like she’s really something. And I’m not just saying that because she went out of her way to befriend my wife.”

“I told her I want a life with her, a future, our own place, Saturday mornings in bed, lazy days…”

“You want the dream.” Harry nodded in understanding.

“Told her maybe we’d move to the city, leave Brooklyn, get a place near you and Jean.”

“Sounds like we’ll be in trouble if that happens, Jo and Jean a stone's throw away from each other?”

“I think the two of us are going to have our hands full when we get home, Croz.”

“I bet they’re saying the same thing about us,” Harry laughed. “And I wouldn’t blame Jean. I’ve been a real handful as of late.”

“Oh yea, you’re causing lots of trouble all the way over here.” Rosie chuckled, propping his legs up on the bed, feet hanging off the edge so as to not dirty the sheets. He didn’t miss the slight look of distress that flashed across his friend's face.

He regarded him carefully; he looked like he had something on the tip of his tongue. His face looked worried, like he had something weighing him down exponentially, and Rosie would allow his friend the moment if he needed it. After all, it was the holiday’s and they were the best source of camaraderie that they had; friends should be there for each other. No one understood that better than he did.

“No, I’ve been a handful…” Harry finally continued.

“Croz?”

“Remember after Munster? When Harding sent me to Oxford?”

“Yea…”

“They double you up when you’re at those conferences, and my roommate, she-”

“Ah jeez, Croz…”

Harry sighed, dropping his head, too ashamed to look his friend in the eye. The moment had turned in the blink of an eye, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it, or get his friend through it. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

“I don’t know how to tell Jean.”

“Is this why you kept disappearing up to London? To see her?”

“How do I tell my wife that I slept with another woman?”

“You just do, Croz.”

“That’s the worst possible thing to write in a letter. ‘Honey, I miss you terribly, by the way…’”

“Alright, I see your point. But you need to tell her.”

“This fucking war,” Harry sighed. “I swear, it peels the humanity right from your bones.”

“Then you fight it.”

“More than we already have? More than what we’ve given and lost?”

Rosie knew he was referring to Bubbles, and for a moment he let his mind wander to Nash, and that first mission to Bremen. It would be easy to fold; to pack it up and let the fight take from you more and more. But he would be damned if he’d let it take more from him, and if he had to fight a little extra to make sure it didn’t take any more from his friend, he’d do that too.

“You’re not fighting it alone, Croz.”

“Feels like it most of the time.”

“And you’re fighting for something back home, even if you feel like you don’t deserve it at the moment.”

“I don't deserve her.”

“Yea, you do. And you’ll tell her everything, whether you write it, or tell her when we get home. And Jo and I will be there for you both.”

Harry looked like he was about to respond when the door to the Officers Hut swung open. He turned, half expecting a replacement officer, but was surprised to see Blakely and Douglass, the former with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and Douglass swinging a bottle of something in his left hand.

“Nightcap, fellas?” Douglass lifted the bottle, and Rosie could just make out the label. Vat 69.

“Where the hell did you get that, Dougie?” Harry’s eyes went wide at the familiar label from back home. A very expensive label.

“Been saving it, so come on, let’s have a drink.”

“No, seriously, who’d you steal that from?” Rosie asked, watching as Blakely gathered four of the glasses the boys kept on their side tables for brushing their teeth.

“I won it in a bet, if you must know.” Douglass grinned, pulling the wax seal from the neck of the bottle before pulling the cork out.

“The details are not of importance,” Blakely chimed in, swatting Rosie’s legs off the bed to take up the space next to him. “What is important is that we’re here, and alive, so stop asking questions and have a drink would ya?”

Douglass poured for the four of them, dropping himself down on the bed next to Rosie’s, while waiting for Harry to join them.

“Any day now, Croz…” he groaned, glass between two fingers as he held it out for the navigator. “It’ll be ‘45 by the time you move.”

“Dougie… fuck off.” Harry stood with a laugh, brushing off his slacks before snatching the glass and taking the seat next to him. “And anyway, we’d all better be home by ‘45.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Blakely nodded, holding his glass up to cheers his friends, the only ones left that weren’t replacement crews, or trapped somewhere in the Stalag.

The foursome sat silently as they sipped their prize whiskey, thoughts turned presumably to home and memories of Christmas and New Years’ spent with people they loved and missed.

“Alright, what would you be doing if you were home right now?” Ev broke the silence, leaning his elbows on his knees, gaze landing on Harry.

“His wife, dumbass.” Douglass chuckled.

“Woah hey, none of that.” Rosie looked between the two, the rules immediately being put into place without having to say them.

They didn’t talk like that, but he assumed it had been a bit too much whiskey already for Douglass, and with there no mission on the horizon for tomorrow, their guards were all down a bit.

“Right, right, sorry Croz,” Douglass held his hands up in apology. “For real, what would you and Jean be doing if you were home?”

“We’d go out for dinner, but I think we’d probably be home for the bells,” he closed his eyes wistfully, and Rosie knew his friend was simply hoping that he’d be able to do that next year. “Dance in the living room, and yea, off to bed.”

Blakely nodded, reaching across to drop his hand to Crosby’s knee in a gesture of good faith, that he felt for him in a way, and was hoping he’d get that moment sooner rather than later.

“What about you?” Ev turned to his right, finding Rosie sitting quietly.

“What about me?” Rosie brought the glass to his lips, taking a small sip and letting the taste linger on his tongue a moment.

“Would you and Josephine be out on the town?” Douglass asked, gesturing to the photo on Rosie’s side table.

“Oh yea, we’d be at Minton’s, dancing until they kicked us out I’m sure.” Rosie laughed.

“Together at the club then?”

“Every year we go dancing on New Years,” Rosie started. “Christmas and Hanukkah are for family, New Years is for friends.”

“She’s more than a friend.” Harry looked at him pointedly.

“She is, and a fella can dream that she’ll say yes when I get home.”

Blakely, who had been pulling the cigarette from behind his ear to light it, fumbled, dropping it to the ground at Rosie’s confession.

“You got a ring?!”

“No, but, that’s my second order of business once I’m back stateside.”

“And the first?”

“To kiss the hell out of her.” Rosie confessed.

“Good man.” Blakely slapped him on the shoulder, a smile on his face.

It was absolutely the whiskey talking this time, but he was among friends. The trust was insurmountable. Between the confessions that had taken place before Ev and Dougie had joined them, and the warmth flowing through his veins, Rosie lifted the glass to his lips to drain it, before standing from his place on the bed. Swiping the envelope from earlier, and a clean sheet of paper from the table, he glanced at his friends with a grin, and offered a two fingered salute.

“Gentlemen, I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going! We still have more whiskey!” Douglass hollered after him.

“Save it for another occasion!” Rosie called back as he pushed through the doors and out into the chilly January air.

He walked until he found a spot under one of the lamp posts, the bench undoubtedly cold as he sat down, but he wouldn’t be out here for long. Just enough time, and privacy, to get the thoughts swarming around in his head out on the page before he lost his nerve.

Pulling his pen from his breast pocket, he carefully let the paper rest on his thigh before he began scrawling his extra note.

Hi Sweetheart,

I know this is coming with no context but, I want you to know how much I adore you. I know I’ve said it in different ways, and a few times by now, but, I mean it. Truly, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. And to say it from thousands of miles away, with a war on no less. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to hit me once I’m back home.

Just know that I’ll always, always, carry your heart with the most careful of hands. I’ll keep you safe, and treasure every moment we have together. Anything you want, it’s yours, Jo. A quiet life together, or a herd of children that jump on the bed on Sunday mornings. I’ll make sure you have it honey.

Just know, I’m yours for however long you’ll have me, Josephine. I’m hoping for forever, but that’s a question for another day.

I love you,

Robbie

Read part 5 Here

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @basilone @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie

#masters of the air #love letters: rosie & jo #mota fanfic #rosie rosenthal x ofc #rosie rosenthal fic #robert rosenthal x ofc #rosie rosenthal x oc #nate mann #hbo war #gina baker writes

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