#rosie rosenthal x reader
Note
Could I please request jealous Rosie hcs or Rosie reaction when you are the initiate the first move hcs. Thank you 😊
I’ll admit right now that the turn out time for this is embarrassing. You’ve caught me in…I think the most stressful week of 2024 so far buttt here we are. My deepest apologies. I’ll be better. Here’s some Rosie. 🌹
Jealousy, Jealousy:
Rosie is very protective of his girl but not overbearing. He knows how secure the relationship is and trusts you to make good decisions. But, of course he notices when another man is getting a little too friendly. When at public places, Rosie doesn’t usually get far enough away for stuff to like this to happen, but due to how drop dead gorgeous you are (the pretty smile that can brighten up anyone’s day, the sparkling eyes that resemble a steady pond, the million dollar legs that give Betty Grable a run for her money) the bold men stay bold. Laughing at things that aren’t meant to be jokes, getting a little too close, etc. He is the king of passive aggression and snark. It’s so obvious that he’s annoyed. Just by the tone of his voice, anyone with common sense can tell he isn’t amused.
An arm wrapped around your waist, interlocking fingers, a random kiss to the temple.
Increased use of the words “us” and “we”
Just plain out saying that you’re his ____ (girlfriend, fiancée, wife, etc)
He’s not subtle but that’s because he has no reason *to* be subtle. He’ll happily let the whole would know he’s yours and you’re his. He’ll redirect conversations, end them as soon as possible, whisk you away into the crowd.
The next day he casually comes across the same man while you’re at home, safe and absolutely clueless of the intersection. That talk isn’t pretty, I’ll tell you that. He’s a lawyer, he has a way with words. It’s direct, serious, and straight to the point. It’s in his job description to argue but it isn’t really an argument, due to the fact that the other man is left terrified of Rosie. Stood frozen in place, shocked. It’s like getting yelled at by a stern parent. Let’s just say…you never see that man again and if you do, he steers clear of your path like you’re a black cat on a halloween night.
A Feminine First Move:
Anon, you’ve got the thought of Rosie’s reaction to a girl making the first move stuck in my head and it’s so adorable. I’m thinking it happens when he first comes to Thorpe Abbotts and is so awkward and dorky. (Talking about flying planes in underwear, you know…the usual) His nickname is Rosie for more reasons then one, he has the prettiest blush. When you walk up to him offering a drink at the bar followed by a slow dance to the romantic jazz of the band, his cheeks are a shade of pink for the whole rest of the night. He’s taken back over how a girl as pretty as you can be so invested, so quick. Imagine his awkward conversation fillers; your siren eyes are so distracting, staring deep into his soul. You listen intently to every single word, a trait that’s appreciated but nervewracking at the same time. He stutters as he talks, trying not to bring up anything embarrassing that would bring it all to ruin.
He tries to keep up with your flirting by replying with some romantic remarks of his own. Soon he gets into the groove and you two have such a magnetic energy. It’s dazzling, it’s exciting, it’s everything. He really gets into his element once the surprise wears off. That doesn’t stop him from reverting back to his dorky, adorable self once you give him a kiss goodnight, your red lipstick on his pink cheek. He waits until your out of sight to dance his way to bed. You two dream of eachother that night. It’s the blossoming of something new, something special.
the dancing i’m talking about lol
#rosie rosenthal#mota#masters of the air#robert rosenthal x reader#robert rosenthal#masters of the air fanfiction#masters of the air fanfic#mota fanfic#mota blurbs#mota fanfiction#rosie x reader#rosie rosenthal x reader
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Take A Break
Rosie runs into a childhood friend at the flak house.
Requested by anon, based on the prompts “I kissed you because I wanted to. Dumbass.” and “You’ve got stars in your eyes.”
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.
As you stood on the front steps of Coombe House, you found yourself nervous for the first time since you’d started there.
Lieutenant Robert Rosenthal was the name at the top of the list of the latest group of soldiers assigned to the house, and since you’d been given it, you couldn’t stop thinking about a childhood friend of yours from Brooklyn with the same name.
Don’t be ridiculous, you scold yourself, reminding the sentimental part of you that the odds of it actually being Robbie were astronomical and you shouldn’t get your hopes up.
Pasting on your best smile as the car filled with boisterous soldiers pulls up, you shove those thoughts away.
“Hello gentlemen!” you call, “I’m Y/N. Welcome to Coombe House.”
You lead them around the house, reciting your spiel about the various activities and amenities, and then passing them off to Michael.
A gentleman who had been hanging towards the back of the group during the tour stepped up, calling your name as the rest of the group was led to their rooms.
“Robert Rosenthal,” he said, introducing himself, “I was just wondering--”
“Robbie?” you gasp.
The brightness in them had dimmed the slightest bit, but you'd recognize those kind blue eyes anywhere.
His brow furrows, no doubt baffled at hearing his childhood nickname all the way over in England.
“I’m sorry, how did you— Wait,” he scans your face, recognizing… something, “Y/N… L/N?”
At your answering nod, you’re tackled in a hug, his joyous, disbelieving laugh filling your ears.
“What are you—? How—?”
“I wanted to help out, and I guess the Army figured this is where my skills would be best put to use,” you explain with a laugh, “When I saw your name on the list I wasn’t sure if it was really you, but…”
“Gosh, Y/N, I haven’t seen you in…”
“Nearly 10 years? I know, I tried to keep in touch after we moved…”
You catch up with your friend, responsibilities forgotten — “So… Rosie, huh?” “Hey, you’d be surprised how little control you have over nicknames in the Army!” — until the clock begins to chime and you realize you’ve spent nearly half an hour just standing here talking.
As Robert begins to excuse himself, not wanting to take up any more of your time, you recall the incident that led to this conversation.
“Er, you said you had a question?”
He hums in confusion before remembering “Oh! Yeah, I was just wondering how long I have to be here…?”
“Unfortunately that’s not really up to me,” you reply with an apologetic shrug, “It’s the decision of your CO to send you boys out here, but you’re welcome to chat to Dr. Huston about it.”
“Though while you’re here,” you say as he’s about to walk away, “I’d recommend taking advantage of the baths and hot water. Absolutely life-changing.” You add with a teasing grin.
He lets out a laugh, though not nearly as genuine as you’d hoped. With that, Rosie thanks you and departs with a two-fingered salute
Robert spends the first couple days at the house keeping his distance from his crewmates, his eyes continually on the sky rather than taking part in the sports and activities available to the soldiers. He doesn’t seem like the boy you remember, but… well, there is a war going on. It’s changed everyone it touches.
One night you find yourself wandering the halls, unable to sleep, when you hear music coming from one of the sitting rooms.
“Hello?” You call softly, following the sounds of Duke Ellington to find Robert standing next to the record player, staring out the window at the darkened English countryside, soft curls tinted slightly blue in the moonlight.
He starts, then relaxes once he sees you.
“Hey,” he says, turning down the volume, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you-”
“I was up already,” you assure him, “Couldn’t sleep?”
“I guess I’m having a hard time with,” he gestures to the lavish country house with a shrug, “all this? I mean… all the croquet, badminton, riding with hounds— what even is that, by the way?”
Your lips twitch up into a smile as you move to stand beside him, “Foxhunting.”
“Foxhunting,” he sighs, shaking his head, “That’s exactly what I don’t need right now.”
He turns his gaze to the star-filled night sky, “What I need is to be back in that seat getting this job done.”
He continues, talking to himself almost as much as you, “Sittin’ here doing nothing, when people are bein’ persecuted and— I can’t— I had gotten into a rhythm, you know? Three days, three missions, easy. And now being yanked out of that, it’s like…”
He searches for an analogy, and you can’t help but smile at the one he lands on, recalling his fascination with music back when you were children.
“You don’t yank Gene Krupa out in the middle of a drum solo, and then expect him to pick right back up where he left off two weeks later, you know?”
You nod, understanding where he’s coming from. You recognized that while some jumped at the chance for a distraction, it was a more difficult adjustment for some soldiers to be thrust into this environment after so long in battle.
“Well, Gene Krupa’s not just responsible for his own rhythm, is he?” You say softly, following his analogy, “He’s responsible for the rhythm of the whole band. And if he’s off, then…”
Rosie nods, letting out a soft laugh, “Okay, I see where you’re going with that.”
“Seriously, Robbie,” you say, taking a chance and resting your hand on top of his on the windowsill, his gaze meeting yours at your touch, “If you don’t let yourself take a break, even just for a little while… it’s not gonna be good.”
He’s silent, and for a moment you worry you’ve overstepped.
Until he mumbles, in a voice so soft you’re not even sure you were meant to hear it, “You’ve got stars in your eyes.”
Maybe it’s the soft sounds of Duke Ellington still playing. Maybe it’s the moonlight, the calm silence filling the house.
Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re the first good thing he’s seen in a long time.
You’re not quite sure what, but something possesses you to surge up onto your toes and press your lips to his.
His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, before he abruptly pulls away.
“I, ah…” He says, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts, “You didn’t just do that because you felt… sorry for me or somethin’, did you?”
Relief floods through you— he’s concerned with why you kissed him, not the mere fact that you did.
You cup his cheek, and Rosie’s eyes close, leaning into your touch as you say softly, “I kissed you because I wanted to.”
Then, after a moment’s consideration, you add with a smile, “Dumbass.”
His eyes shoot open as he barks out a laugh.
“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?”
Your giggles are swiftly silenced by his lips landing on yours once more, the tension finally leaving his shoulders for the first time in weeks.
The two of you end up on the couch, talking late into the night about what brought you to England, Rosie mostly telling you in hushed tones about the friends he’d made in the 100th— men that were no longer here, but lived on in his memory, and now yours. You fall asleep leaning against each other, still holding hands.
You shift, eyes fluttering open as the gray dawn light filters into the room. It takes you a moment to get your bearings, but you grin seeing Rosie asleep next to you, looking the most relaxed you’ve seen him since he arrived. With a single kiss to his forehead, you slip away to the women’s wing of the house until it’s an appropriate hour for you to stumble upon him in the sitting room.
Armed with a thick blanket and a coffee service, you creep in to see Rosie still sound asleep. Smiling, you gently lay the blanket over him, trying not to wake him. Unfortunately, he stirs the moment the blanket touches him.
He looks around, attempting to orient himself, and relaxes when he sees you.
“Good morning,” you grin, taking in his sleep-mussed curls shining golden in the morning light, “Coffee?”
“Please,” he replies in a voice rough with sleep, mustache twitching up into a smile as he sits up.
“Just don’t tell anyone, alright?” You say coyly as you prepare a cup, “I can’t be bringing all you boys breakfast in bed, now can I?”
“Well, I must be special,” he grins, taking the cup gratefully and adding with a wink, “I’ll take it to the grave.”
You’re glad to see him relax a tiny bit more over the group’s last few days at the house, and the two of you are able to find plenty of stolen moments together once everyone’s gone to bed.
When it’s time for them to return to base, he leaves you with a promise to write and a kiss. He captures your lips tenderly on the front steps, disregarding the whoops and cheers from his crew mates waiting in the Jeep, and you can’t help smiling despite yourself as they drive away, keeping your eyes on him for as long as you can.
#robert rosenthal#robert rosie rosenthal#rosie rosenthal#robert rosenthal x reader#robert rosie rosenthal x reader#rosie rosenthal x reader#masters of the air#masters of the air x reader#nate mann#nate mann rosie rosenthal#nate mann masters of the air#nate mann x reader#my writing
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Spilled Drinks
Robert Rosenthal x Reader
Word Count - 1,735
authors note : hello friends, i have never written anything like this before and posted it. i had some free time today and an idea and dreamt this up. it is far from perfect but i hope you enjoy it, nonetheless. thank you!
The muffled yelling of multiple voices was enough to drag Y/N out of the daze she had fallen into. Her workday had started early and ended late leaving her feet and head throbbing - a shower and her bed, more of a cot really, were calling her name. Her venture to the communal showers she shared with her fellow nursing staff was quickly interrupted as Violet and Helen crossed her path.
With a tilt of her head Violet spoke up. “And where do you think you are rushing off to?”
“To shower and get some sleep.” As soon as the final word fell from Y/N’s lips her two friends were quickly shaking their heads in protest.
“You promised! You always say a person is just as good as their word. It will just be for a drink or two and then you can come and get as much sleep as your heart desires. I swear to you.” Violet said, wagging her finger in front of Y/N, like a mother would do a troubled child.
After a brief glare between the two women, Y/N sighed, hung her in defeat, and turned back in the direction of her bunk.
“I don’t even know what to wear to an army base bar. Those men already don’t take us seriously and you think this is gonna make it any better?”
“The more you fight it, the worse it’s gonna be Y/N. Just for once stop living and breathing being a nurse and just be a girl surrounded by a bunch of good looking men.” Hazel spoke up for the first time that night before being met with another glare from Y/N’s direction.
Y/N knew both her friends had a solid point. In the ten months she had been working at Thorpe Abbotts she had never allowed herself a break. She did her best to maintain a positive reputation among the men she treated but her friends, and now even herself, had noticed that the weight of the job had begun to take its toll. A night away from the blood, cries, and medicine couldn’t be all too bad - for her sake.
The August heat was enough to force a light sweat upon the girls as they journeyed from their bunks to the bar. As they stepped inside the building, Hazel quickly pulled her powder from her purse and turned to Y/N blotting away at certain areas of her face.
“You have to talk to at least one man tonight. One. And not someone you’ve treated.” Violet stated and lightly shoved Y/N forward to the bar, shooing with her hand. “Get a drink, enjoy the night.’
“One cosmopolitan, please” Y/N stated after reaching the bar, flashing a smile. She hoped and prayed, as the guy poured away, that the alcohol would be enough to calm the nerves she felt bubbling in her stomach. They only increased as she looked around and spotted Colonels, Captains and Majors. Leaned against the other side of the bar were the now infamous friends, Buck and Bucky. Gale Cleven was nothing but kind and a gentleman but Y/N had overheard talk of a girlfriend back home and John Egan, well, he was John Egan. There was nothing else to say. A few months prior, during a training exercise he wound up hurt and sitting in front of her in the infirmary bay, clutching his elbow with a shit eating grin plastered to his face as she wrapped his arm. Conversation flowed easily with the major but Violet had urged her to speak to someone new.
The bartender brought her from her daze as he placed the drink in front of her and she quickly took a sip. As she pushed back from the bar, she ran directly into a tall frame that had tried to squeeze in beside her, red juice spilling on both of their newly starched clothes.
Before an apology could tumble from her mouth, the man was already grasping her arm to steady her and ushering for his friends to grab a towel from the bar.
“I am so sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t watching where I was going and I ju-” she cut his rambling off
“No, that was all my fault. I was lost in thought and then - oh my god” taking a quick glance down to the tan and brown jacket, her eyes shot open even wider, “your uniform. I can’t believe I got that all over your dress jacket.”
An arm reached between the two of them holding a towel that Y/N quickly grabbed and started dabbing along the man’s chest, steadying herself by grabbing onto his arm.
“This is the first night I ever came out and I just ruined someone’s jacket, oh my god.”
A large hand landed on top of hers, stopping her from continuing her attempts at cleaning up the mess she, well both of them, had made.
“I promise you, ma’am, it was my doing. Let me order you another drink. This ones on me.”
For the first time during this whole encounter, she looked up to the man she had lost her Cosmopolitan to. She was silent as she stood with his hand still over hers, quickly losing her will to deny the drink once her eyes locked with his blue ones, a small smile adorning his face. All she could do was nod. He took a step forward, placing his hand on the small of her back to turn her with him towards the bar.
“A cosmo, right?” he questioned and a small nod was directed his way. “Another cosmo for the lady and whisky, neat, for me please?” The bartender quickly got to work leaving the two strangers standing closely together in silence. The man quietly cleared his throat and stuck out his hand.
“Robert Rosenthal, but most of the guys call me Rosie.” Y/N took his outstretched hand and lightly shook it up and down.
“Y/N Y/L/N”
Robert grabbed the drinks the bartender sat before him and motioned his head towards an empty table across the dance floor.
“Would you like to grab a seat? I think you owe me at least a conversation after this.” he said, looking down at the tan shirt that was now stained slightly pink. A small smile made its way across Y/N’s face.
“It’s the least I could do.”
Robert led the way to the table, nestled in the corner and sat the drinks down. In a swift motion he pulled a seat out and ushered Y/N to take it. As soon as he sat down, a wave of confidence overtook Y/N’s once anxious mind.
“So, Rosie, what is it that you do?” she asked, raising the glass to her lips. She had some worry that the appearance of a woman drinking alcohol would be ‘unladylike’ but all of her care went out the window when she realized with everything she had seen and done, it was the smallest token of appreciation.
“I’m a pilot. I’ve been flying for a while now.”
“Are you any good?” she teased.
“I sure hope. I have learned the hard way making impressions isn't all too easy here. I just embarrassed myself in front of those two majors.” He said, moving his head to the right.
“Buck and Bucky?” he answered with a small nod. “Don’t sweat it, Buck is too nice to make fun of you and Bucky will forget about it in about two hours when the whisky finally hits and his favorite song comes on.” Rosie cracked a smile at her, shaking his head at the thought of the once intimidating major belting out show tunes.
“Thank you, that makes me feel better.”
“Anytime.”
Rosie took a large gulp of his drink and leaned forward on his forearms.
“So, Miss Y/N, how did you wind up here in paradise?”
“I’m a nurse. I’ve been here almost a year. I still don’t know what I'm meant for.” She admitted, lifting her glass to her mouth to slightly hide her face.
“How do you mean?” he quipped.
She took an inhale, taking a moment to carefully collect her words.
“It’s not easy. A lot of these guys come here, make friends with their crewmates and drink and sleep their feelings away. I can’t really blame them. They’re fighting a war for Christ's sake. But, us women, see what comes back. The trauma, the injuries - all of it - and we get sideways looks for drinking a shitty cosmopolitan every once and a while.” she laughed sarcastically as she finished the rest of her drink. “I love helping people but it gets hard.” He nodded, looking down at his own drink and giving it a swirl.
“I never thought of it that way. You ladies get the best and worst of us.”
She sat for a moment, looking at her hands folded in her lap.
“Do you see those two girls over there?”
“By the bar?”
“Mhm. Those are my friends. They have spent the entire ten months we have been here urging me to come out, get away from the bubble I've made for myself and I fought against it until tonight. I thought it would be a disaster. Then I got here and got a drink and told myself it would be fine, only to spill it all over you.”
“Y/N, it's really no bother.”
“I know, because as crazy as it sounds - I am so glad that I did.”
A small crept across Rosie’s face as he sat back in his seat, downing the rest of his whisky.
“And why’s that?”
“Because, it gave me the perfect excuse to talk to you Mr. Rosenthal.” cheeks turning bright red as she directed her eye contact towards him.
“Well then, I’d be a fool not to ask for a dance Mrs. Y/L/N.” standing from his seat and outstretching a hand, which Y/N gladly took.
Together, hand in hand, they walked to the dance floor where Rosie pulled her close. Y/N settled her head on his chest, watching as their feet moved in harmony.
“Oh, and Y/N,” he spoke up with a small smile perched on his lips, leaving her to tilt her head up towards the pilot “, the next round is on you.”
#masters of the air#robert rosenthal#rosie rosenthal#masters of the air imagines#masters of the air x reader#rosie rosenthal x reader#rosie rosenthal imagines#john egan#gale cleven#john egan x reader#gale cleven x reader#bucky egan x reader#buck cleven x reader
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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.
#rosie rosenthal#mota#rosie rosenthal x reader#mota fanfic#robert rosenthal#rosie x reader#masters of the air
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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.’’
#master of the air#master of the air imagine#rosie rosenthal x reader#rosie rosenthal#robert rosenthal#mota smut
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Love is a mystery | Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x reader
Word Count: 841
Summary: With Harry’s help, Rosie finds old hobbies and new love in post-war New York.
Warnings: Mentions, of war, implied ptsd and depression, talk of marriage and pregnancy.
Authors Note: I honestly don't know where this idea came from, but I think my brain needed something a bit fluffy after watching all nine episodes of Master of the Air in two days and crying the whole time. [This is based off of the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I have nothing but wholehearted respect for the real life individuals and situations portrayed.]
Read on AO3
In the months following their return stateside, Crosby takes a trip to see Rosie. During a nice casual lunch, he spends far too long dancing around the fact that Rosie is visibly not okay, and eventually suggests that getting back into things he enjoyed before the war will greatly help his readjustment.
Rosie briefly considered placating him with an "I'm fine, really," but he only nods, unable to lie to Crosby.
The truth is Rosie hasn't slept one full night since his first at Thorpe Abbotts and he gladly accepts shaky hands and reddened eyes over the twilight memories of what he saw and those he's lost.
Yet, after a night of particularly bad insomnia, he takes Crosby's words to heart and heads to the library. The pen trembles against Rosie's calloused hand while he fills out the library's card application, but his voice is steady when he asks the pretty librarian for recommendations.
He's too distracted by your shiny, kind eyes to notice how you recognize the distant look in his own. contrarily, You note in your diary that night how you couldn't tell if it was sympathy or his easy charm that made your heart race wildly while suggesting some classics and mysteries that should keep his mind busy.
-
"you need to get out more, Rosie," Crosby states in a letter one day.
It just so happens that during a now routine trip to the library, Rosie notices a half-hidden flier for an Agatha Christie book club pinned to the community board.
A week later—spurred onward once more by Harry's words—he pulls himself out of bed, has a shower and shave, and attends the meeting.
The cracked glass of Rosie's brown leather watch allows him to see he's half an hour late as he ascends up the small steps in front of the building.
Designated meeting room C is quiet and mostly dark as he pulls the handle. He's three solid steps inside the door when the room's sole occupant looks up at him—you, that same librarian with those same eyes.
He barely has half a mind to choose one of the provided refreshments—a cup of black coffee dangerously close to room temperature—before sinking into one of the many empty seats. The weary but logical part of him says that this is a waste of time, but the remnants of his fun-loving side tell him that he's got nothing to lose.
He takes a sip of coffee and sinks further into his seat.
While exchanging kind pleasantries, you retrieve a well loved copy of Why Didn't They Ask Evans? from your envelope handbag. Rosie quickly follows suit and slips his own newly bought but already dog eared book out of his leather coat pocket.
"So you liked it?" you inquire with joyfully clasped hands and a voice filled with breathtaking earnestness. After nearly choking on a hefty drink of coffee and his fluttery nerves, Rosie lets a bashful smile slip past his defenses.
Ninety minutes pass completely uncounted before Rosie steps back out onto the snowy, bustling New York City streets. He quickly shuffles home, tossing his coat and book onto a chair before dropping down onto his bed. He intends to return the items to their rightful place after a short rest, though the book will find a home on his bedside table after he spots your number jotted on the inside corner in loopy, flowing handwriting.
-
Spring is well in bloom when Rosie and Harry see each other again.
Rosie spends the following two days giving the Crosby family a tour of the best sights and eats his hometown has to offer.
Their third evening in town has Crosby swaying his young son to the music flowing through the jazz bar while covertly helping Rosie draft his proposal speech. You and Jean are sat within arms reach, though you both pay the boys no mind as you're fully entranced by the music. The night winds on, and the draft becomes a full, completed speech. They share a coy laugh as Rosie slips the notebook back into his vest pocket, knowing that if all goes right this moment will find its way into Crosby's best man's speech.
In this smoky bar just past dinner time, they both accept that they aren't the same men they were before the war. They’d seen a hell no words could ever describe, and yet the world somehow kept turning. They escape to the bar soon after, where Harry tells him that he'll soon be a father once more. Rosie offers his congratulations and jokes that he won't be far behind. The bar is dim, but Crosby still catches a glimpse of the lighthearted playfulness returning to his friend's eyes.
You and Jean coo and fuss over the baby as the men say their goodbyes. Through an especially tight hug, they make each other a silent promise to keep holding on. If not for who they were before but for who they are—and what they have —now.
#masters of the air#masters of the air x reader#mota#mota fanfic#mota spoilers#rosie rosenthal#rosie rosenthal x reader#masters of the air imagine
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My Heart is Yours [Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x reader]
Author's Note: Rosie Rosenthal has my whole heart, and I couldn't find any fics for him, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. This is based on the portrayal of actors in the Masters of the Air series on AppleTV+. I respect the referenced real life stories and people wholeheartedly. This is not meant to offend anyone.
Warnings: Reader is a nurse, Historical Inaccuracies, Injuries.
Hope you enjoy this little fic! My requests are open, so if you have any ideas, don't be shy!
Pilots are known to be cocky- I mean, I get it. They're pretty badass, if I can say so myself. But I have never in my life met such a down to earth pilot. Major Robert Rosenthal was, without exaggeration, perfect.
I was standing by the window, counting the planes that were appearing from the grey clouds, landing from their mission, silently praying Rosie was among them.
I exhaled in relief-- only one plane down from the fifteen that left. My heart was in my throat as I waited for the ambulances to bring in the injured men.
As if on cue, the doors flew open and several men on stretchers were placed on beds, in order of emergency. I went to the man in the worst shape, ensuring his airways were clear and then going over the burns that littered his whole body. It looked bad, and my heart ached for him-- he would never look the same as he did before.
"I can take over, you're needed elsewhere." I nodded as I gave another nurse my forceps. He was stable and I had to move on.
"Have you seen Rosi- Major Rosenthal?" She shook her head, a sad smile casting a shadow on her lips.
"He's not on the list." She said, referring to the list of injured men that had been brought in. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself. It didn't mean he was dead, although that's what it usually meant.
After going over every pilot and ensuring they got the right treatments, I allowed myself a break-- I needed some fresh air. I had no clue if Rosie's plane made it back, none of the pilots that flew with him had come in, and that is rare occurrence.
As I exited the building, leaving behind the pained screams of injured men, I made my way towards the bench Rosie and I always met at, still holding onto a sliver of hope that he was alright and he was going to come back to me. I was walking slower than usual, given how tired I was, taking the time to rub the back of my neck as a way of relieving the tension.
A deep voice called my name, making me freeze-- I could recognize it anytime. I raised my eyes to his face, and my knees couldn't take it anymore.
"Rosie," I whispered, as I fell to the ground. He was there in a second, grabbing me by my forearms and holding me to his chest. I could feel his heartbeat against my own.
"Woah, woah... Are you alright?" I nodded, my eyes going over every inch of his face, making sure he was okay.
"I just--" I couldn't keep calm, my tears spilled out as a sob escaped. "I thought you were gone, I didn't know if your plane made it back..."
"I promised you I'll always come back to you, didn't I?" He had the nerve to smile, as he raised his hands to my cheeks, wiping my tears away. I was still silent, trying to catch my breath. I was still so focused on his perfect face, and how he had not even a cut anywhere, but what brought me back to the moment was the feeling of his finger caressing the spot between my eyebrows.
"Why are you frowning, my love?"
"You're fine." I said it quietly, as if I couldn't believe it, but he was in front of me, fine as if he didn't just drop some bombs over Berlin. "You're fine. You're fine!" I laughed, realizing he was actually standing in front of me. Perfectly fine!
I raised my hands to his face, caressing his jaw, then his cheeks, his nose, and then forehead. I brushed them through his hair, wrapping them around his neck. He was watching me with his beautiful smile lighting his whole face ul.
"I'm fine, my love. See?" He gestured towards his body in a 'ta-da' motion, making me laugh.
He then closed the small distance between us, kissing me on the corner of my mouth.
"I will always, always come back to you, my love. My heart is yours." He whispered, before kissing me deeply.
"And mine is yours, Rosie."
#rosie rosenthal#robert rosie rosenthal#masters of the air#appletv+#rosie rosenthal x reader#robert rosenthal x reader#robert rosie rosenthal x reader#hbo war
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The Apple Tree 🌳 • Part 4
warnings: 18+, teasing, oral (f receiving), sexual intercourse.
taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @scuttle-buttle @ronsenthal @groovin2beats @hellfirequinnie
You've been exchanging flirtatious glances with Rosie all night long from across the room. You, Sally and the rest of your gang were knee deep in the usual Friday gossip session; this time in a different location than the village pub. You and Sally had been invited along to the club on base with your guys, and both of you had insisted that Heather and Violet came along too. After all, you couldn't skip a weekly meeting. It wouldn't be right.
“Hey, Y/N, did you hear about Rita? Well…” your attention on her words trails off when you see Rosie look at you once again, his eyes dragging themselves up and down your body. There's a different look in his eyes tonight, one you hadn't seen before. His pretty blue eyes are still twinkling, but there's something more in them…and you can't wait to find out what it is. You turn your head to the side slightly as he winks at you, you biting your lip subtly in response. Two can play at this game, you think to yourself.
Before long, Heather is asked to dance by a replacement named Fred and the seat beside you is empty. Rosie makes a beeline for it, kissing you on the cheek as he sits down. “Sweetheart,” he says, that twinkle still in his eyes. “You look beautiful this evening.”
“Oh, thank you, my love.” You smile at him, his hand upon your leg.
“Push your chair in a little,” he murmurs. Confused, you do as you're told, seeing that spark in his gaze once again. It seems to be swelling from warm embers to a blazing wildfire as he waits patiently for you to stop scooting your chair. It takes your breath away. The second your legs are under the table, you realize exactly why he wanted you to move your chair.
His big, beautiful hand paws even further up your leg, his fingers toying with the hem of your skirt, pulling it up just slightly. You look at him, wide-eyed, trying to hold in a gasp at his touch, sending shivers down your spine and causing goosebumps to raise up on your exposed limbs. He titters, his hand now on your thigh and stroking the inside of it. As if it's muscle memory, and not quite being able to control yourself, you seem to lower your hips down in the seat so his hand hits your covered core, already a little damp. The gasp comes this time, as his pinkie reaches out and very delicately touches you right where you want him.
“Rosie!” You whisper, giggling under your breath.
“What?” he says, totally calm. “What's up?” You look at him, mouth open. He raises his eyebrows teasingly and shrugs before holding his hands up. “I don't know what you're talking about, pretty girl. Come on,” he holds his hand out. “I need to dance with my girl before I walk her home.”
—
Before you make your way to the small dancefloor, Rosie beckons over a friend. “Y/N, this is Croz. Harry Crosby.” Harry holds out a hand towards you and smiles softly, his kind eyes shining at you. You take his hand and shake it. “Hi, Harry! Good to meet you! Rosie has told me so much about you, and your wonderful wife.”
“Oh, all good I hope! I'm headed to go write her actually, but I just wanted to come and introduce myself and finally meet the girl Rosie will not stop talking about.” He winks towards his friend, who playfully shoves him in response. Downing the last of his drink, he waves goodbye to the both of you.
—
As you dance slowly together, his mouth finds your ear, making your toes curl. “I could just eat you,” his voice barely above a whisper. He plants kisses from your ear all the way down to your now incredibly hot cheek, before giving your jaw a discreet nip as he breaks away. Your head spinning, you cup his chin in your hand. “Take me home, Rosie,” you pause for a second, kissing him just once. “Right now.”
“Yes, ma'am!”
—
Crashing through the door of your cottage, you can barely keep your hands off him. This has happened a few times since he had asked you to be his girl weeks ago, but you'd always seemed to stop yourselves from going too far. He'd always reluctantly pull away, your hands clasped in his and say goodnight with sad eyes. Tonight, though, is different, as he doesn't stop you as you go to unbutton his jacket. He shucks it off at lightning speed, you pulling on his tie to bring him back to you, his hand on your waist to bring your bodies together. He groans into you as you run your hand over the bulge developing in his slacks, his hand getting lower on your body and gently squeezing your behind.
“Come to bed with me,” you ask breathlessly, looking up at him through your lashes. “Please, darling.” He simply nods and lets you lead him up the stairs, his hand in yours. Thanking your lucky stars that you'd decided to tidy up your room this evening, you close the thin curtains before turning to face Rosie. Walking back up to him and gently stroking his cheek, you have him meet your gaze. “Are you sure about this, Rosie?”
“Never been so sure of anything in my life, Y/N.” He begins to fiddle with the buttons of your dress, the feeling of his hands on your exposed skin driving you wild as he pops each button open with painstaking slowness. You slip your dress off, letting it fall by your feet and stepping back slightly. He drinks you in, his mouth open in astonishment.
“Oh, fuck,” he says, the first time you've ever heard him cuss. “You are beautiful.” You giggle at him, before gesturing with your eyes to his clothed body.
“Your turn, Major.” Seeing a mischievous flash in his eyes as you use his rank, he unbuttons his shirt as fast as possible, before pulling off his slacks at the same speed.
He pulls you close to him again, walking you towards the bed and laying you down on the plush duvet when the back of your legs hit the edge. Pulling you up to your pillow, his arms cage you in as he kisses you deeply and furiously, his hands all over you, leaving trails of fire all over your skin. Leaving your mouth, he makes his way down your jaw to your neck, his mustache deliciously tickling your skin causing you to gasp and moan. He shoots up instantly, a concerned look in his eyes. “Is this okay? Are you okay?”
“Baby,” you rise up, kissing him again. “I'm perfect. And are you okay?”
“Never better, angel.” Taking advantage of you sitting up, he unclips your bra in one swift movement. “Oh, honey,” He says, looking you up and down. “You sure are perfect.”
He resumes his position kissing your neck, making his way down your whole body as you feel liquid pooling at your core at the sensation of him kissing your skin, his mustache adding just a little roughness to it. Getting lower, he looks deep into your eyes as he places your nipple in his mouth and sucks, his tongue swirling around your swollen bud. Bucking into him as he switches sides, the sound that leaves you is almost animalistic. You clamp a hand over your mouth, almost in embarrassment. He makes his way down the valley between your breasts, removing your hand from your mouth as he does so.
“Cut that out, honey. I wanna hear you.” You remove your hand as he kisses your hip where your underwear sits, the lacy fabric covering your increasingly damp core. He gently sinks his teeth into your skin to grab the material and begins pulling them down.
“Oh, God,” you moan, almost whimpering as you watch him. Coming back up, he gently runs his fingers through your folds, moaning at the wetness. His finger finds your clit instantly, a direct hit with no guidance needed. You continue moaning softly as he plants kisses on the inside of your thighs, slowly inserting his finger into you, pumping in and out before adding another.
“Rosie…darling…please…” you mewl as he looks up at you with mischief in his eyes. Without a word, he puts his mouth on you, his tongue flat to lap you up.
“Like I said,” he pulls away momentarily. “I could just eat you.” Within seconds, you're a writhing mess in front of him, your hands finding their way into his pretty curls. As he pulls away, you see his hair is incredibly tousled from where your hands had been, the ringlets bordering on being cherub-like.
Both breathless, he climbs off the bed to remove his underwear. They fall to the floor as you sit up, eyes widening as you see him rock hard and ready, such a soft, subtle pink color - he's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.
You get up to stand in front of him, both now fully exposed to one another. He kisses you deeply, before sitting on the edge of the bed, beckoning you on top. You straddle him, the feeling of his bare skin on yours almost taking your breath away. He pulls away from the kiss and strokes your face, his eyes softening the way they do every time he looks at you. He smiles with his beautiful teeth and kissed your cheek. “Y/N,” he mutters, nervously. “Y/N, I think I'm falling in love with you.”
“Oh–oh, Rosie,” you reply, stuttering a little. You kiss him, eyes squeezed shut and let him enter you. “I think I'm in love with you, too.” You both groan with relief as you feel his whole length inside you, both giving each other time to adjust, him gently kissing your neck, his lips only just touching your skin. He looks up at you again, and presses his forehead to yours as you begin to move on him, both instantly breathing heavily. He captures your mouth in a deep kiss as you finally, finally, make love to one another.
---
You lay together under your plush duvet, clinging to each other, not bothering to get dressed. His hands all over your skin, tickling your back ever so gently, and yours playing with his hair, his eyes closed, totally relaxed.
“Will you spend the night?” You ask, your hands now stroking his face.
“I wish I could, sweetheart. I have to get back to base.”
“Hmm,” you reply sadly. “At least sleep with me for a few hours. Just for a little bit.”
“Okay,” He whispers, not even hesitating. He wraps himself around you, and falls asleep instantly.
—
You wake up the next morning, alone. Feeling a pang of sadness as you realize, you sit bolt upright. On the pillow he slept on sits a piece of paper.
“Sleep well, darling girl. See you in a couple days. Yours, R.”
As you read it, smiling, you hear the all too familiar rumble of B-17s taking off overhead. Your breath catches in your throat at the sound, sudden nerves bubbling up in your chest as you put a hand to it to settle your quickening heartbeat.
—
A knock at your door makes you jump as you pour your bedtime cup of tea. Thinking it to be Rosie visiting at this late hour, you practically leap right to it. To your surprise you see Sally and James standing there, both shivering in the night air, their expressions forlorn and almost mournful.
“Hey, Sal. James. Come on in, the water is still hot for tea,” you say, as you try to plaster on a smile and guide them into the house. The couple look from each other to you and back again, Sally biting down her lip so hard you can almost see it begin to swell instantly.
“What's going on?” You enquire, the atmosphere suddenly suffocating and tense.
“James…tell her.” He sighs, nodding, his eyes downcast.
“Rosie went up this morning–”
“Yeah, I heard the planes as I woke up, but what–”
“He hasn't come back, Y/N. We don't know where he or the crew are.” You feel the world begin to spin, trying your best to grab on to something, anything to steady you.
---
“Crap!” Sally yelps. “James, catch her!” And everything goes black.
once again, thank you to my two besties that read this over and over @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 ily!!! <3
#masters of the air#mota#masters of the air fic#mota fic#mota smut#rosie rosenthal#robert rosenthal#rosie rosenthal x reader#rosie rosenthal x oc#rosie rosenthal smut#winnie writes#18+ only
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looks like daddy loves the story so much he decided to read the rest of it after the kid's asleep.
#he'll make a good dad#rosie rosenthal#masters of the air#nate mann#robert rosenthal#rosie rosenthal fanfiction#rosie rosenthal imagines#rosie rosenthal headcanons#nate mann fanfiction#rosie rosenthal x reader
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Zodiac Suite
pairing: robert 'rosie' rosenthal x fem! reader
tw: mentions of war, alcohol drinking, mentions of smoking, a whole lot of fluff
description: when rosie finds someone who loves jazz just as much as him.
a/n: ok so this was a complete and utter self indulgent fic because i am obsessed with mary lou williams and im now headcanoning the fact that rosie also loves her. SO some random little research details that i found really cool: mary lou williams first performed 'zodiac suite' in 1945, the café society was a real place from 1938-48 and it was located in new york, mary lou williams used to perform a lot there (there's a whole lot of pictures online if anyone's interested) AND a little tidbit i found about real life rosie is that he went back to europe to prosecute the nazis after the war! isn't he really cool??? oh and this is all based off the tv show character, not the actual person. and i would recommend listening to the album (it's free on spotify + youtube) while reading if you can.
Rosie felt right at home at the busy night club, the smoke from many lit cigarettes and the scotch rushing through his veins combined with the dulcet tones of jazz almost made him forget that he had been at war just a few months ago.
Settling back into civilian life hadn’t been the easiest but times like these made him feel like he was okay again. Café Society was a place he used to go to quite a lot before the war, just to take in the ambience and have a stiff drink. Now it had become his refuge once again, tonight one of his favorite pianists was performing.
Mary Lou Williams was an absolute genius and her work didn’t just sound good, it sounded great. She was in the middle of performing her Zodiac Suite, one of the things that made Rosie feel like he had done his job right, because if music, art, could continue undisturbed by those Nazi bastards then it was all worth it.
“God, she’s incredible isn’t she?” A voice from next to brought him out of his reverie, making Rosie turn to the sound of that beautiful voice. A woman was standing next to him with a dazed smile on her face, she looked completely entranced in the music. Rosie was sure he had been mirroring her expression exactly just a few moments ago.
“She really is.” Rosie said, his attention now completely on you. The sound of his voice had you jumping and turning to look at him, it was now obvious you hadn’t meant to say that outloud as you looked a little scandalized.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry for disturbing you, sometimes I get too lost in the music and… well I seem to lose control of my mouth.” You utter the last phrase with a slightly nervous laugh and a few stuttered words but Rosie already felt like he was entranced with you.
“Don’t worry about it, ma’am. It happens to me as well on occasion.”
“Jesus, please don’t call me ma’am. Makes me sound like my mother.” You seemed to have overcome the earlier shyness, which made Rosie’s mouth twitch into an even wider smile.
“Well now I think I should be the one apologizing, sweetheart.”
“I forgive you… but only if you tell me your name.”
“That one is just too easy, Rosie Rosenthal, at your service.”
“Rosie?”
“The air force has a way with nicknames. Now I think I’m owed a name as well?” You smiled and quickly said your name before taking a sip of the drink in your hand. A gin and tonic by the looks of it.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”
“Are all pilots such flatterers?”
“Only the best ones.” You hummed back in mock suspicion which had Rosie smiling so hard he probably looked like a mad man. The sounds of piano seemed to seep into the comfortable silence and you turned back to the stage, Rosie felt a wave of regret rush over him until he noticed you were moving closer to him so the fabric of your clothes brushed against his.
Rosie moved the glass from his left hand to his right and also turned back to look at the stage, but not before leaning closer to you too. Letting his hand carefully trail along the length of your arm.
A smile crept up on your face and you once again scooted closer to him. You both kept up this little game as you listened to the entracing jazz music, stealing little glances at each other but never meeting each other’s eyes. It was as if you were both encased in your own little bubble.
When the set finished and everyone started applauding and cheering, you finally met Rosie’s eyes. He looked at you with admiration as you laughed and clapped.
“She really is incredible, isn’t she?” He asked, echoing your first words back to you once the din had died down.
“She really is.” You responded before taking a step forward and placing a quick peck on his cheek and uttering a quick goodbye before disappearing into the crowd.
Rosie returned to Café Society the next night, hoping to get a glimpse of you in the same crowd you had vanished into the night before. And he wasn’t disappointed when he saw you sitting at one of the tables at the edge of the room. Two drinks sat in front of you, a scotch and a gin and tonic. Rosie felt a buzz of electricity run through his body when he realized that you had been waiting for him. He saw as you turned your head towards him and a smile blossomed on your face.
“Rosie! I saved you a seat!”
It was a quiet night, at least as quiet as it can be in a big city. Rosie had just gotten back from Europe and he felt at ease once again. As he always did when he was around you.
Your legs were intertwined with his on the red couch you had gone hunting for in one of the little out of the way shops that Brooklyn had. You each had a book in hand and the sounds of a familiar jazz album suddenly crackled onto the radio. Your heads snapped up when you realized that Mary Lou Williams’ Cancer was playing.
“Rosie…”
“Yes, darling?”
“It’s our album.” Rosie looked down at you from where you were lying on his lap. A giddy smile was on your face and he echoed back that smile right back at you.
“It sure is.”
“I’m rather glad I met you.”
“I’m rather glad I fell in love with you, sweetheart.” Rosie answered with a note of adoration in his voice, looking at you as if you hung the very stars in the sky.
“I sure hope you are, because I love you more.”
“Oh I don’t think so.” Rosie deposited his book on the arm of the sofa before assaulting you with tickles, making your laugh ring out into the night. A sound that perfectly complemented the jazz that was still filtering out of the radio.
also... if anyone by any chance finds a vinyl copy of Zodiac Suite anywhere pls lmk. ive been scouring the internet for the past few months and have found nothing. hope you enjoyed and pls lmk your thoughts or asks, i don't bite!!
#robert rosenthal#robert rosie rosenthal#rosie rosenthal#robert rosenthal x reader#rosie rosenthal x reader#masters of the air#mota fanfic#mota spoilers#masters of the air x reader#rosie x reader#masters of the air fic
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rosie rosenthal would eat you out while you read out loud to him, send post.
#rosie rosenthal#robert rosenthal#masters of the air#dano speaks#masters of the air x reader#rosie rosenthal x reader#masters of the air smut
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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 💋
#rosie rosenthal#masters of the air#masters of the air fanfic#mota#mota fanfic#mota fanfiction#robert rosenthal#robert rosie rosenthal#rosie x reader#rosie rosenthal x reader#robert rosenthal x reader#masters of the air fanfiction#mota headcanons#headcanons
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Welcome Home
Rosie finally returns home after his second tour, and you take the opportunity to show him exactly how much you missed him
Special thanks to my bestie @winniemaywebber for making a whole playlist for this fic??? What??? What in the world did I do to deserve such wonderful friends 😭
Warnings: mature content (oral (f receiving), PinV penetration), some dom/sub dynamics if you squint (Rosie’s switchyyyy in this 🥰), swearing, mentions of scars/wounds, historical inaccuracies (18+! minors begone!)
Word count: 1.8k!
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 wait anxiously on the train platform, amongst a hundred other wives and mothers and friends waiting for their loved ones’ safe return.
When Rosie had told you that he was re-enlisting after his first tour… a thousand emotions had run through you at once. Terror. Disbelief. Pride. Of course your Robert wouldn’t be satisfied until the job was finished.
And now it was. Germany had surrendered, and Rosie was finally coming home to you.
There was a hiss and a squeal as the long-awaited train pulled to a stop, and then a cacophony of shouting and joyous cheers as loved ones called to each other.
You scan the sea of joyful reunions, searching for a familiar head of curls.
A shout of your name makes you turn your head, and there he is.
Eyes sparkling, mustache neatly groomed, looking as handsome as ever in his dress uniform, stood Rosie.
Your feet carry you to him as if they have a mind of their own, and Rosie fights through the crowd to meet you halfway, catching you as you launch yourself into his arms.
You laugh in disbelief— he’s here, holding you, he’s real— as you urgently press your lips to his, the tears you’ve been trying to hold back spilling over your cheeks.
You pull away just enough to catch your breath, noses pressed together, lips brushing as you murmur soft, hurried greetings of “welcome home, baby,” “missed you so much,” “so, so proud of you.”
After what feels like an eternity of being back in his arms, lips locked in a passionate kiss, Rosie pulls away just slightly.
“Take me home, honey pie,” he murmurs, and you nod eagerly.
You let out a yelp of surprise as, rather than setting you down to lead you out to the car, Rosie simply turns and carries you out to the lot with you securely in his arms.
He pulls you in for yet another urgent kiss when he sets you down as you arrive at the car, and the promise of more sparking in his eyes has you speeding to your Brooklyn apartment.
It’s difficult to unlock the door with his lips attacking your neck, never mind his wandering hands, but you manage it, and close it quickly behind you as Rosie wastes no time in leading you to your bedroom.
“I missed you,” he murmurs between kisses, pulling you flush against him, his hands resting low on your waist, “so much, honey.”
“Missed you,” you whimper, fumbling with the buttons as you make quick work of tossing his jacket off to some corner of your room as he does the same to your dress.
He catches on quickly, yanking off his tie and drab olive shirt, leaving him just in his slacks as he walks you backwards, leaving a trail of hot kisses all down your neck.
“Been dreaming about this for so long,” he mumbles against your skin, “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna do to you when I got home.”
You shiver as he lays you down gently on the bed, his fingertips tracing the satin edges of your brassiere.
“Want me to show you?”
His voice is hoarse and raspy against your ear, making goosebumps appear all over you.
“Yes,” you gasp, your hands wandering over his exposed skin for the first time in far too long, “Please.”
You feel him grin against your skin as his mouth attacks your neck, making your back arch off the bed.
Once your neck has been thoroughly kissed, sucked, and nipped into submission, he steps back to admire his handiwork.
You let his gaze linger on you until you can’t stand it and lift one leg to nudge him into doing something, your breath hitching when he grabs your ankle, his eyes darkening.
A glint in his eye, he bends down to brush a kiss to your ankle, your calf, your knee… he kisses his way up your leg, making you whine when he avoids your increasingly damp core in favor of continuing his path up to your hipbone. He stops to scatter kisses all along your stomach before mouthing at the valley between your breasts as he makes quick work of your brassiere.
“Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” he says, one hand coming up to cup your breast reverently, “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, trailing his lips to wrap around your nipple and suck.
His name leaves your mouth in a cry as he swirls his tongue around your peaked bud, pulling away with a pop to turn his attention to your other breast.
Your hand buries itself in his curls as he pulls away once more, tugging him up for a kiss. His tongue meets yours as you moan into his mouth, grinding up into him with a whine in an attempt to ease the pressure in your core.
“I gotcha, honey, I gotcha,” he breathes against your lips, his searing blue gaze locking on yours as his mouth follows a trail down, down, down to the waistband of your panties.
“Robbie,” you whine, the old nickname tumbling from your lips as he digs his teeth softly into the flesh above your waistband, gently easing your underwear off.
“Oh, honey,” he gasps, taking in your damp core, “When I tell you I’ve been dreaming about this for so long…”
Before you can grind out an impatient stop talking, his mouth is on you.
You moan, long and loud, as he licks deep through your folds, his nose at the perfect angle to add just the right amount of pressure to your clit.
“Shit, darling,” he groans as he licks and sucks at your core, the vibrations making your toes curl, “Taste even better than I remembered, fuck—”
Unable to keep eye contact, your head falls back against the bed with a choked whine, your hands finding their way down to grip at Robert’s curls.
Each talented movement of his tongue brings you closer to release, that string of tension in your belly growing tighter and tighter.
Robert’s tongue brushes a very particular spot inside you that has you gasping for air, giving his curls a particularly aggressive yank, which in turn causes him to growl against you— and that’s the moment that the string snaps and sends you over the edge.
You feel Robert’s mouth move frantically against you as you ride out your orgasm, his mouth and mustache damp with your release as he pulls away, brushing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about doing that, honey,” he says, kissing his way back up to your mouth, “But none of them came close to the real thing.”
You smile into the kiss before he pulls away, hovering over you.
You take the chance to scan over Rosie’s body, tracing the lines and curves of him with your fingertips, taking in the scars and scrapes and bruises.
He freezes above you, avoiding your eyes as you try to meet his gaze, concerned.
Eventually, you realize what he’s having difficulty with.
“Robbie,” you say softly, cupping his cheek so his eyes meet yours once more, “You’re beautiful. These scars don’t change that. And I know you may not believe me right now—” you begin to brush featherlight kisses to the scrapes and bruises decorating his face and neck, “— but I’ll keep reminding you every day until you do.”
At his unconvinced nod, you take a chance. You leverage your weight and flip so that you’re now the one hovering over him.
“These scars—” you say between gentle kisses to each and every mark decorating his skin, “are a reminder to you and everyone who knows you that you’re a fighter. You— you stayed, honey, you did what you knew was right and saw it through to the end and even though I was absolutely terrified of losing you—” you inhale shakily as some of the fear you’d felt over the past few months seeps into your voice before you collect yourself, “I couldn’t be prouder. My brave, brave boy.”
You capture his lips in a tender yet heated kiss, and he melts against you, one hand moving up to fist into your hair as he pulls you impossibly closer.
You slowly begin to grind against him, your bare skin gliding deliciously against the fabric of his slacks covering the bulge at the apex of his thighs.
“Sweetheart, I—” he gasps desperately into your mouth, “shit, I need to be inside you. Lemme show my girl how much I missed her, please—”
You moan, the sound swallowed by his mouth as you fumble with his belt, Rosie wriggling out of his slacks and boxers impatiently.
You can’t resist grinding against him a few times, his breath catching at the feeling of your damp folds gliding against his bare cock.
“Honey,” he whines, burying his face in your neck, “Quit teasing, please, waited so long for this, lemme fuck you, please—”
You relent, nearly as unable to stand your own teasing as he is. Your breaths mingle as he positions himself at your entrance and you slowly, slowly, sink down onto him, biting back a stuttering moan as you stretch around him.
“Oh sweetheart,” Rosie groans, pretty blue eyes fluttering shut, “Fuck— you feel so good, honey, so tight—”
You whine at the praise, slowly rocking in his lap as you adjust to his size, gradually moving up and down his length at a toe-curlingly slow pace.
“Y/N, Y/N,” he gasps into your mouth, gripping at your hips in a futile attempt to speed you up, “Shit, you’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”
An entirely too innocent giggle escapes you as you continue to ride him agonizingly slowly, teasing yourself as much as him.
After several minutes of teasing, Robert’s soft pleading only adding to the growing tension in your core — “waited so long for this, honey, please, please don’t make me wait any longer,”— your breathing becomes heavy. Robert’s hands wander over every inch of you, leaving trails of fire as you finally, finally, speed up in earnest.
“Robbie,” you gasp, “Missed this so much, baby, missed you—”
“Missed you more, sweet girl,” he breathes, burying his face in your neck to muffle the stuttering moan that escapes him, “F-fuck, ‘m gonna—”
“C’mon, baby, please,” you breathe into his ear, fisting his curls as you feel your orgasm building, “‘M right there, please, Robbie…”
His fingers dig into your skin, groaning your name, hips stuttering as he spills into you, your release following almost immediately after.
Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, Robert letting out a soft whine as you carefully lift yourself off of him.
“I’m so, so happy you’re home, honey,” you whisper breathlessly as you curl up next to him on the bed, fingertips tracing his jaw, pulling him close so your noses brush, “I love you.”
“I love you more, honey pie,” comes Rosie’s soft reply, grinning against your lips as he pulls you in for a long, sweet kiss.
#rosie rosenthal#robert rosie rosenthal#robert rosenthal#mota#masters of the air#rosie rosenthal x reader#robert rosenthal x reader#masters of the air x reader#rosie rosenthal smut#masters of the air smut#my writing
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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 :)
#masters of the air#masters of the air imagines#masters of the air x reader#john egan#gale cleven#rosie rosenthal imagines#rosie rosenthal x reader#rosie rosenthal#robert rosenthal#robert rosenthal imagine#bucky egan x reader#buck cleven x reader#john egan imagine#gale cleven imagine
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i need more rosie content to live!! fluff, angst, smut, I DON'T CARE PLEASEEEEE
#IM THIRSTY AND HUNGRY FOR HIM#rosie rosenthal#rosie rosenthal x reader#masters of the air x reader#masters of the air imagines
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would you be willing to do a fluffy rosie rosenthal fic? like maybe reader and rosie meet at the flak house? really anything with rosie would be amazing
I'm currently writing smut with Rosie. Like Therapist! Reader and him. And it's damn hot. But I will write more about him. I love him so much.
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