loverrofmineee

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it's July 18th

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Would anyone be interested in a Thomas Thorne fic??

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rosie rosenthal propaganda

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The Parting Glass - Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x OC

AO3 | Summary | Previous Chapter

Chapter 9- Bring Him Home

Cormack Dáithi Devlin came into the world at 9:57 AM, December 13, 1922. Born to Aodhán and Fidelma Devlin as their second child and first boy, Cormack was well-loved. The boy had been cradled carefully since birth, and his mother and father constantly doted on him. In typical cultural fashion, sons were treated differently than daughters, Cormack being no exception. His mother and father tread carefully with him, taking all the measures possible to ensure he was protected and fostered to become a great man. As he grew, Cormack found one person in the family who didn’t treat him as special or fragile. According to the family, the young boy's first word was ‘sissy’, in reference to his beloved older sister. Since he could talk and walk, Cormack was stitched to his sister's side, following her wherever she went. Nothing was off limits for the two, if Sorcha jumped, Cormack would jump higher. Whatever she was playing, studying, watching, or reading, he’d be tucked beside her trying to comprehend. Their parents and neighbors took note of the bond, often joking that the two were meant to be twins, but God spared their mother from the chaos that would have ensued. 

Cormack Dáithi Devlin died on October 7th, 1943 at 6:43 am. 

“- I’m sorry, Sorcha. According to interrogation, he went down while escorting one of the earlier squadrons. They said he was defending a B-17 from the Luftwaffe, and saved the fort before…” Jack ran a pale hand over his face as he sighed, “I’m sorry.”

Pain spread through Sorcha’s chest, somehow sharp and slow at the same time. Almost as if her heart had been speared by a knife or an arrow, the blood spreading around the wound little by little, finding new areas to stain. Her lips trod a fine line between gaping and closed, taking its time to decide whether wails would escape or not. Time seemed to stop around her, Jack’s wary movements appeared in slow motion, his mouth moving, and yet Sorcha heard nothing. She saw the pained faces of her friends, contorting into a mixture of deepening lips and wrinkles among their brow lines. Sorcha knew they were speaking as well- but their words fell on deaf ears. An ongoing battle between her body and mind emerged, half begging her to let out some form of emotion, whether that be falling to the floor or letting out a small tear. She could feel her body unconsciously trembling in preparation to let out any form of grief. Though it was her mind that reigned victorious, too lost in the whiplash and overwhelming anguish. Sorcha felt trapped in the moment, too scared to break from her position and unwilling to face reality. 

A hand belonging to Lilibet wrapped itself around Sorcha’s shoulder, causing the girl to face her. Lil’s face was one of a mother, seeping comfort and sympathy. 

Sorcha wanted to be sick. 

A singular thought broke through the swirling gates in Sorcha’s mind, in what world would Cormack be dead? If the God she prayed to every morning and evening could hear her, why would he let something so terrible, so merciless, happen to her baby brother?

Breaking eye contact with Lil, she felt a small twinge in her arm, comparable to an itch, a need to escape. Sorcha looked around the room at all the distressed faces, their silence deafening as they waited for her next move. Without a word to anyone, Sorcha burst free from Lil’s grip and rushed out of the office. While there may have been cries of protest to her reaction, she couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her heartbeat pounding. 

Once she got outside, she surveyed the grounds around her. Passersby gave her apprehensive looks as they walked, and others continued with their work. Men passed her on their bikes, voicing a short hello and a smile as they rode. Red Cross women were weaving between crates filled with coffee and doughnut mix, simple chatter passing between them. Everything on the base appeared normal, surging Sorcha’s newfound anger. The bile in her stomach continued to swirl as her thoughts raced, conflating together to create a storm inside. One of the Red Cross women, Helen, approached Sorcha timidly. Before she could even formulate what was happening, Helen appeared in front of her. The sympathetic smile plastered on her face was a clear signal to Sorcha, already knowing what she was about to ask. Another twitch panged in Sorcha’s arm, prompting her to flex her fingers in an attempt to control the feeling. As Helen spoke, asking if she was ok, Sorcha’s eyes darted toward the fields and empty pathways. Feeling the need to escape, Sorcha began to run, not knowing nor caring where her destination was. 

Leaving Helen and the population of Thorpe Abbotts in the dust, Sorcha sprinted across the base, ignoring any pain she felt inside or out. The wind thrashed against her face, the feelings of pins and needles stabbing her cheeks. Her legs felt like thorns were wrapped around them, spreading immense pain to her feet. Though her body was screaming in pain and anguish, Sorcha continued to run. Eventually, her adrenaline faded out, placing her on the empty hardstands. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, the first sound she had made since speaking to Jack. 

Looking up to the sky, Sorcha felt prompted to speak, “Of fucking course you’d lead me here. Why not rub it in more? Hmm? What part of your seemingly perfect all-knowing plan would do this?” 

Per usual, the sky didn’t answer back. Clouds continued to pass by, the sun shining bright as ever down upon her bitter face. Another strained laugh came from Sorcha as she stared at the ground. Looking around she saw no one in sight, only a mixture of empty slots and forts that had survived a past mission, but needed work. 

A twisted thought popped into her mind, feeling the need to voice it, “Why do they get to come back? These big, stupid planes that are supposed to kill people can survive, but not the boys protecting them? Cormack’s been risking his life to save these men and- and these inane scraps of metal, and this is what he gets in return?” 

Tears began to slip from Sorcha’s eyes, each one burning more than the last. Wiping them away, she looked at her hands. A new surge of grief crashed upon her. Staring at her fingers, Sorcha realized they were the first tears she shed for her now-dead brother. 

“No- no” Sorcha shook her head while she wiped her hands along her skirt, “He’s still out there. Cormack wouldn’t leave me this way. I just know he wouldn’t. You wouldn’t allow this to happen. Not to me, mom, dad, and Caoimhe. You know we don’t deserve that. After all we’ve sacrificed for one another- He’ll come back. I know he’ll come back.”

The rumblings of an arriving Jeep brought Sorcha back to earth. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted a group of mechanics coming back to work. Hands flew to her face as she tried to wipe the remaining tears away. Trying to avoid conversation, Sorcha kept her head down as she walked, ignoring any noise around her. Screw coming off as standoffish, there were larger issues at hand. 

Beyond her comprehension, Sorcha’s aching feet managed to carry her back to the Nissen hut. She made quick work of opening the door, letting out an involuntary sigh at the sight of its emptiness. Surveying her surroundings, Sorcha decided she needed a shower. The light patter of her steps echoed against the metal, creating a sense of eeriness that made Sorcha mildly uncomfortable. Shaking her head, Sorcha gathered her things as she headed towards the shower. The door creaked open as she set her things down. Sunlight flashed off the mirror, almost taunting Sorcha to face herself. Knowing she couldn’t, Sorcha busied herself with turning the water on. While the sound of running water often calmed the girl, it couldn’t fend off the anger she felt. Sorcha made quick work of taking her uniform off, haphazardly throwing each piece of clothing with unneeded force. Deciding the temperature was enough to her liking, Sorcha stepped into the shower, letting the water pelt her face. The heat did little to soothe her as tears mixed with the water. A choked sob escaped from her lips, her throat beginning to feel hoarse from previous attempts to block any noise. 

Sorcha couldn’t tell how long she had been in the shower, the only marker being her pruny fingers. Wrapping a towel around herself, Sorcha glanced at herself in the mirror. She ran a hand over her face as she examined herself. The image made her want to shatter the glass, seeing that she looked the same as earlier in the day. All of her features appeared to be the same, with no monumental changes that revealed the pain she felt in her heart. As torturous as it sounded, Sorcha wished there were cuts and bruises lining her body. Something to show for the anguish inside. Would that change anything though? If her body was marked with the scars of grief, would that bring Cormack back?

A new set of tears emerged, struggling to form due to the girl's dehydration. Sorcha grabbed the nearest glass, filling it up, and throwing the cool water back. Another hoarse laugh came from her, finding great irony in having to fill oneself up to show a form of grief. 

Once she was satisfied with herself, Sorcha threw on her pajamas from last night and crawling into bed. She dared to take a quick glance at the photos hung over her bed, focusing on one of her and Cormack. The two of them were posed outside of the boy's high school, Cormack clad in a graduation cap and gown, whilst Sorcha was in her Sunday best. Cormack towered over her, arms wrapped around each other in a side hug, both beaming at the camera. She slowly unpinned the photo from its place on the wall and hugged it against her chest. Feeling a need to be surrounded by darkness on all sides she grabbed the blankets off her friend’s beds, creating a cocoon. As pathetic as she felt, Sorcha allowed herself to sob unabashedly, not caring who could come in and witness her pain. She was sure everyone on base knew by now. 

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Sorcha wasn’t sure what time it was when she awoke. She wasn’t sure she would have woken up if it weren't for the soft creak and dip at the end of her bed, signaling that someone had sat down. The girl was caught between a rock and a hard place, wondering who was sitting with her, and also wishing to stay under her blankets and wait them out. About a half hour went by, curiosity finally getting the best of her. Sorcha slowly emerged from her cocoon, not expecting her visitor to be Bucky. 

Neither made a move to speak. Both of their faces carried a tone of pain, Bucky’s eyes softening as he took in the sight of his friend. For a lack of better words, Sorcha looked a mess. Frizzy curls stuck up from every part of her head, her face and frame looking paler and smaller than they used to. A pit formed in the man's chest as his thoughts flurried in his brain, not knowing what to do. 

“You’re not supposed to be in the women’s huts.”

“Devs-”

“You’re not even supposed to be here. You need to be in London, like Buck and I said.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, ignoring Sorcha’s undeterred questioning. “Devs-”

“Why are you here?” 

It was her question that caused Bucky to falter, not sure how to answer without causing the girl more pain. He already knew of her condition, Jack and the others telling him upon his arrival. What he wouldn’t tell Sorcha is that he came back looking for her, trying to find the one person who would understand his pain. No, this was no time for her to comfort him. He felt guilty enough upon learning her news from others. 

“I came back early because- well because there’s another mission tomorrow. One that I need to lead.”

“No.” Sorcha shook her head, “Buck is doing that.”

Another pit formed in Bucky’s stomach at her stoic resolve. Her gaze was unwavering, looking at him as if he was speaking gibberish. Wracking his brain for an explanation became more strenuous as the seconds ticked by. Sorcha’s eyes were practically burning holes in the side of his head, waiting for a real explanation. 

Sorcha hesitantly reached out and placed a hand on Bucky’s arm, “John-” 

“I don’t know what to tell ya Devs.” Bucky’s tone was harsh as he whipped to face Sorcha. Immediate regret washed over his face as she retracted her hand, subconsciously leaning away from him. “Sorry- it's just, the game didn’t go so well today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Buck went down swinging.”

Sorcha’s lips parted at his statement, a barely audible gasp following. She had never seen Bucky so emotional. Unbridled anger seeped from him with small bouts of despondency creeping through the gaps. The man in front of her was broken. Reaching her hands out once again, she slowly wrapped her fingers around his enclosed fists. Bucky looked up at her touch, a silent understanding passing between the two. 

“Devs, I didn’t mean to-” Sorcha cut off his apology with a shake of her head, not wanting to hear any more sympathies. 

“It's fine. I understand. Is there any way I can help?”

Bucky stared at the girl, gobsmacked by her insistence to aid his pain. “No, it’s me who should be asking you that question.” Trepidation was evident in his voice, worried he had crossed a line. 

To his relief, Sorcha let out a small laugh, “I don’t think the two of us are qualified enough to help each other.”

“I might haveta agree with you on that one.” 

The two fell into a comfortable silence, giving Bucky time to look around the space. His eyes scanned the walls full of photos, taking in each detail. Ones of Sorcha with various friends and family lined the space above her bed alongside postcards and letters. Fixing his gaze on one particular photo, Bucky raised a hand and pointed at it, “That you as a baby?”

Sorcha turned towards the wall, a small smile on her face as she untacked the photo. She held it carefully in between the two of them, letting Bucky hold half. “Yeah. It’s one of the only nice photos I have of me as a kid.”

“Is that-”

“Cormack.” Sorcha cut Bucky off, sensing the question he wanted to ask.

“Devs, I hate to say this,” Bucky started, teasing evident in his voice, “but you two were  pretty chubby babies.” 

“I can’t believe this-” Sorcha feigned mock offence, only deepening Bucky’s grin, “You’re being mean to babies now?”

The sound of laughter echoed off the walls as the two took in the absurdity of their previous statements. To any onlooker, it would seem that their grief caused them to go temporarily insane. But in reality, they knew the amount of unspoken words passed, each finding a welcome distraction in the other. 

“Only to you Devs. Only to you.”

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rosie rosenthal lucky i wasn’t born then because i would be painting HIM on the side of my b-17

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The Parting Glass - Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x OC

AO3 | Summary | Previous Chapter

Chapter 8- Everything... In Its Own Time

Though Sorcha would never admit it to anyone but herself, she missed Bucky. 

Buck had managed to convince the brass to send his pal on a two-day leave, much to Bucky’s dismay. Both Sorcha and Buck had to deal with incessant complaining from their friend before he left, attempting to convince them to join him. 

“-absolutely not,” Sorcha shook her head as Bucky perched himself on the mess table she was sitting at. “I have things to do here, plus I don’t think the brass would appreciate me taking another leave. It’s not like I’m some hotshot pilot who can do whatever whenever he wants.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with mirth as his smile widened at his friend's teasing, “It helps to have friends in high places Devs, ‘specially ‘hotshot pilot’ places.” 

“Need I remind you that you got yourself demoted?” Sorcha raised her eyebrows at Bucky, who to his credit, seemed to enjoy her blunt but harmless ribbing. “I don’t think Harding would appreciate you using special privileges you no longer have.”

“C’mon, Devs. Harding loves me. M’sure he wouldn’t mind if I asked for an extra pass. I’ll say that I need someone to keep me in check!” 

“God knows you need that, but you won’t find it in me,” Sorcha teased, trying to put the conversation to bed. “I don’t think any girl you find out on the town would appreciate having me in tow. I’d hate to ruin your chances.” 

Bucky seemed to consider her point for a moment, exaggerating his contemplation by pulling a face, eyebrows creasing together in combination with the frown lines etched on his face, though a small smile tugging on his lips betrayed the name. Sorcha had half a mind to laugh at his obvious display for attention but realized she was getting some unkind looks from a table of Red Cross girls next to her. 

Gently putting a hand on his arm, Sorcha regained Bucky’s attention, “John,” she spoke softly, “I think it’ll be good for you to get away for a weekend, especially by yourself. There’s a good reason Buck and Harding chose this for you. Just revel in having a good time, ok?”

A faint sigh sounded from Bucky as he took in his friend's words, all sense of lighthearted teasing thrown out the window. He offered Sorcha a small smile as he stood, “You win, Devs. I’ll see you before I go.” 

“I promise to write you a thousand letters!” Sorcha teased as Bucky left, not wanting to end the conversation with such seriousness. His back was turned to her, but she knew he was laughing due to the rising and falling of his shoulders, giving her satisfaction as she turned back to her breakfast.

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It was a rowdy night in the officers club, the air a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The replacement crews would be going on their first mission soon, giving them a reason to have a semi-wild night out. Sorcha had planned to have a quiet night in with the other girls, but there was something in the air that made everyone on base spark with anticipated electricity. Due to these circumstances, Sorcha found herself tucked away in a somewhat quiet corner with Meatball. She was busy running her fingers through Meatball's fur when Buck sat in the seat next to her, quietly announcing his presence with a small grunt, the aged leather seat squeaking under his weight.

“Bad day?” Sorcha tipped her head at the man to her side, taking in his seemingly tired mood. Buck wasn’t a vibrant man, usually remaining stoic unless someone, Bucky, elicited a grin from him. Still, Sorcha saw that his demeanor seemed quieter than usual.

A dry chuckle fell from Buck’s mouth as he looked at Sorcha, “Could ask the same thing to you,” Nodding to the others, who appeared to be in a lively drinking contest, Buck continued, “Why aren’t you over there?”

Sorcha briefly surveyed the scene, watching as Shiv and Aileen pounded back shots beside the replacements, yelling about some sort of pre-mission initiation. She was surprised to see Lil joining them, her arm slung around Croz as she forced him to participate. The wild illustration elicited a laugh from Sorcha, turning back to Buck, “Any other night I would, but I’m not up for it today.”

“Wonder why.”

Sorcha couldn’t miss the teasing smile on Buck’s face, something that was often rare, but charming when it appeared. Normally she would wave his teasing off, but his cadence gave him away, knowing that he was teasing himself as well. There was an unspoken understanding between the two. Their middle ground was missing, giving them reason to be somewhat reclusive tonight. 

“As much as it would boost his ego, I do miss him.” Sorcha sighed before switching her tone, “Don’t tell him I said that though.”

Buck let out a bark of laughter at Sorcha’s franticness, shaking his head at her. “If anyone thinks John doesn’t need an ego boost, it’s you and I.” 

“You didn’t swear not to tell him,” Sorcha pressed, her voice betraying her serious face.  

Sorcha couldn’t miss the eye-roll from Buck as she extended her hand to him, folding her fingers until only the pinky was raised. “Pinky promise?” 

Buck sized up Sorcha’s extended hand, taking in the sincerity of her tone and face. Her hopeful yet stern eyes clearly conveyed that her offering was serious, and her method was not to be questioned. Slightly chucking under his breath, Buck mimicked Sorcha’s hand, intertwining their fingers together for a brief moment before Sorcha was satisfied. “You’re a good man, Gale Cleven. Not many men, let alone majors would undertake such a serious covenant.” 

“If there’s anything I’ve learned throughout my life, it’s never to break a woman's trust.”

“Well then,” Sorcha began before taking a sip of her drink, “Marge is one lucky woman.”

A wistful sigh came from Buck at the mention of his girl's name. In an instant, his tired expression was replaced with one of love and adoration. The change in his demeanor was a clear indicator of how lovestruck he was, causing a small smile to creep onto Sorcha’s lips. “Tell me about her.”

Buck didn’t need the prompt to go on and on about Marge, but he easily welcomed the question. “She’s… everything. I know it sounds vague, but she truly is everything. She’s unfailingly warm, but when she’s upset, good luck.” Buck laughed to himself, trying his best to describe the woman he loved most in his life. 

“What do you miss most about her?” Sorcha softly posed the question, not wanting to break the bubble of trust and softness they were currently occupying. 

“Her smile.” Buck grinned to himself, “I have photos of her in my bunk, but nothing beats watching her smile rise on her face. That’s the moment I knew I was in love with her. On one of our first dates, I made some throwaway joke, but she found it hilarious. I just thought she was politely grinning up until then, nodding along to whatever I was saying, but once the joke landed her smile grew ten sizes bigger. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing.”

Sorcha listened to Buck intently, feeling her heart swell as he spoke. She felt as if she was being read poetry or a romance novel by the way Buck talked about Marge. Seeing the creases of his eyes grow larger with his smile, something so honest and real that nearly caused tears to fill her eyes. 

“She sounds amazing. Though after listening to you I’m not sure there’s one word that can describe her.”

“Everything” Buck quipped, the smile on his face somehow still growing.

“Yeah, everything.” Sorcha smiled as she took another sip of her drink. The two fell into a comfortable bout of silence, watching as their friends continued acting like high-schoolers, throwing shots back and spilling beer over one another. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Sorcha turned to Buck, nodding and giving him permission to continue. 

“I know your whole stance on this, but would you want-”

“- something like you and Marge have?” Sorcha picked up on the nature of Buck’s question, opting to finish it herself. Buck nodded in response, watching Sorcha’s face contort as she thought about how to go about answering. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I am a romantic at heart. Honestly, I’ve always been. My parents have a wonderful relationship, raising my siblings and me in a house full of love. Like any family, their views on love and relationships rubbed off on us. Cormack’s always been the one who wears his heart on his sleeve. He had a new crush every week, it was pretty cute for a while.” Sorcha chuckled as she reminisced, ”My Mum and Dad have always been my prime example of what love is supposed to look like. They’ve been through the ups and downs together, balancing each other out. I’ve been lucky to witness a relationship as special as theirs. It's not that I’m saving myself for that perfect person who can mirror what I see as a ‘perfect’ romance, but I’d rather not lose myself to heartbreak in these circumstances. I’m self-aware enough to know that even if I did fall in love here, there’s a high chance that I would lose the guy in less than 3 months.”

Sorcha took in Buck’s crestfallen expression as she ended her rant. She felt a sudden surge of guilt for her words, “Sorry, that got depressing. All I mean is that I’ve seen so many girls fall in love, only to lose the man.”

“I understand. But isn’t it better to have love for a moment than to close yourself off completely?” Buck spoke as if he was stating a simple fact, “I know what my odds are, but it didn’t stop me from coming over. Marge and I may be miles apart, but it’s the thought of her love that keeps me going. It’s all worth it.”

Taking in Buck’s words, a semblance of realization crossed Sorcha’s face. It’s not like anything he said was revolutionary, but hearing it from the other side loosened her tight grip on the credo she carried overseas. 

“Now I’m not asking you to throw yourself at the next pilot that comes along,” Buck gave Sorcha a faux stern look, “but don’t be wary to get to know them.”

“I know,” Sorcha sighed, giving Buck a reassuring smile that let him know his words weren’t falling on deaf ears. “I just- I need to take everything at my own pace.”

“No need to convince me, Devs. I know how you are.”

Warmth rose in Sorcha’s chest at his comforting smile and words. It was nice to have someone truly know her. Sure Bucky and the girls did, but there was only so much she could tell them. She and Buck held a common understanding, reserving conversations for just the two of them. 

“You know, while we’re being serious and all, you’re kind of like an older brother to me. I don’t actually have one but you’re what I imagine they’re like.”

Buck chuckled at her statement, rolling his eyes teasingly at her sincerity. While the bluntness of her comment wasn’t typical, Sorcha knew Buck would appreciate it. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Please do!”

Before the pair could strike up another conversation, Buck was called by Blakely along with a plethora of pilots to join them at the bar. It seemed that the ‘initiation’ for the recruits now shifted responsibilities to getting the higher-ranking officers to join in. Sorcha laughed to herself as she caught sight of Croz and Bubbles being shoved around by Shiv and Aileen, large smiles upon all their faces. 

“Care to join in, little sister?” Buck extended a hand as he stood, a teasing smile on his face once more. 

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“Can you believe they’re doing this again?” Aileen asked as she spun in her desk chair,

The men had left for their second attempt at Bremen only a few hours ago. Sorcha had managed to spot Buck and his crew at breakfast, wishing them luck on what she knew would be a heavy journey. She tried finding Rosie amongst the men, but couldn’t see him or his crew anywhere. Sorcha had wished him luck on his first mission, which had gone successfully, but wanted to give him a little extra luck today.

“As much as I’d like to say no, the realist in me knows it has to be a yes.” Lilibet sighed as she continued to file away. 

“If we’re going to be talking about the men, can we at least do it in a fun, romantic, gossipy way?” 

“Shiv!” Lilibet chided, only deepening Shiv’s smirk.

“I agree.” Aileen piped as she scooted her chair closer to the girls.

“I want to hear about what Anika and Benny were getting up to the night they ditched the officers club.”

Scarlet flushed Anika’s cheeks as the attention shifted to her, giggles surrounding the group as they gauged her reaction. “Well, we just had a night to ourselves is all.”

“Bullshit.” Shiv deadpanned, “We all know it was more than that.” 

“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. I’m not one to divulge my personal secrets.”

Aileen and Shiv groaned, slumping in their seats as they attempted to get information out of Anika. The girls continued to pry for a few more minutes until Anika finally caved in. They spent the next few minutes in fits of giggles in between gossip as they teased Anika over her relationship with Benny, as well as some secrets shared in confidence about the man. Sorcha was chuckling alongside Lilibet as Anika teased how Benny acts around her versus his crew when Jack Kidd cleared his throat to announce his presence. 

“Would you ladies mind if I pulled Sorcha away for a moment?” 

She quickly nodded, too wrapped up in her joyous state to notice Jack’s usage of her first name. She also failed to notice his worried expression and frown which was much deeper than usual. Sorcha barely questioned his shaky hands and anxious demeanor as he pulled her into a quiet hallway, assuming he was nervous about some external issue. 

“Jack,” Sorcha placed a hand on his arm to try and settle his nerves, “What’s wrong?”

“I have to tell you something.”

[loverrofmineee]

Me when it’s my birthday but also Cormack Devlin’s birthday

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*me, checking my own AO3 account to see if I have posted any new fic I’ve been waiting for yet*

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ANTHONY BOYLE as Brendan Hughes in SAY NOTHING: The Cause (2024)

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Straight Guys Are Back | Bit City

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Every day I wake up and hope there’s a new Spencer Agnew x reader fic… may just have to write one myself

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Just found out my great-great uncle was in the 101st airborne…. Need to revive him and queen out

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Nate Mann as Otto Ex-Husbands (dir. Noah Pritzker, 2023)

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The Parting Glass - Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x OC

AO3 | Summary | Previous Chapter

Chapter 7- A September Wedding

Sorcha had been avoiding Rosie since their first conversation. Though she’d argue it wasn’t really her fault. The influx of replacements meant the base was busier than ever. More crews meant more work for all those involved. Sorcha's job was to walk each navigator through what would become their routine of stopping outside the command center to pick up everything required for their missions. The brass found that men tended to respond better to a gentle smile and pretty face than a stone-cold officer barking orders at them. Sorcha didn’t mind the job, loving how she got to talk to new people every day, though a gnawing feeling grew in her chest each time she encountered a new officer. 

A resounding thud sounded from Sorcha's desk as Jack Kidd placed a new stack of files on the wood. An apologetic smile seemed to be stuck on his face each time he spoke to the woman, and this time was no different. “More crews arrived just this morning.” 

“Is that your way of telling me I need to go freshen up? Reapply my lipstick?”

Jack rolled his eyes at Sorcha’s teasing. Even if he found enjoyment in it, which he did, he would never outwardly express it. “Good to know you’re up and running, Devs.”

“Who else would brighten your mornings?” Sorcha smiled. 

Once again, Jack’s eyes rolled in annoyance. A small smile crept upon his face, betraying his stony demeanor, and giving Sorcha the satisfaction she needed. 

“I’m assuming Croz will be joining us today?” Sorcha asked as she began to separate the files into stacks.

“You can count on it,” A southern drawl spoke from behind Sorcha. She quickly turned to face a smiling Bubbles, head sticking out from his office. If there was anything good about her job aside from the good it did, it was that Bubbles was her boss. And anywhere Bubbles was, Croz would be as well. “He should be on his way, lord knows how distracted the guy gets.”

The light teasing elicited Sorcha's chuckle as she continued, tuning out the conversation Jack and Bubbles had started. When work began to pile up, Bubbles typically called on Croz to aid him and Sorcha, stating that he ‘couldn’t work without him’. Sorcha originally feigned offense at the comment, but it was partially true. Per standards, Croz was only privy to some details about his friend’s job, mainly aiding through taking new navigators under his wing, relieving both Sorcha and Bubble’s worries. Bubbles often chatted about his and Crosby’s friendship, situating himself on Sorcha’s desk as she attempted to file paperwork around him. She would see the latter almost daily since he had to stop by to receive maps and papers for missions. 

“Leave Croz alone.” Sorcha defended as she stood to file her stacks.

“You keep on defending him ‘cause he’s your favorite.”

Sorcha flashed Bubbles a sly smile, “That’s a bold statement coming from you seeing as he’s your favorite as well.”

Bubbles shook his head in defeat before exiting his office to aid Sorcha in filing. She was hesitant to give him the folders, as she had her proper way of going about things. “Don’t fuck with my system, Bubbles.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bubbles raised his hand in a mock salute before grabbing a stack of files, missing the eye-roll Sorcha sent his way. The two made their way to a separate room, lined wall to wall with filing cabinets, all labeled in alphabetical order. Sorcha wouldn’t consider herself a control freak per se, but the way she guarded the file room like her firstborn child said otherwise. Bubbles knew better than to question Sorcha on her strictness when it came to the room, dutifully following her from cabinet to cabinet. 

Once Sorcha made sure each folder was where it needed to be, she walked back to her desk, Bubbles on her heels once again. 

Jack was leaning against Sorcha’s desk when the two arrived, a teasing smile on his face, “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think Sorcha was the one in charge here.” Bubbles frowned at this, only spurring Jack on, “It’s like watching a lost puppy follow its new owner.” 

“Who says I’m not in charge?” Sorcha shot back, mirroring Jack’s smile. 

For good measure, Sorcha patted Bubble's head and gave his hair a little ruffle, deepening the frown that found a home on his lips. A small huff escaped Bubble’s throat, only worsening the situation as Sorcha went to comfort him. “Don’t listen to him, Bubbles. You’re a good boy.” 

This was enough to make Jack break, folding over as rhythmic chuckles sounded from him. It was rare that someone could make him laugh, and Sorcha relished in the accomplishment. A proud smile placed itself on Sorcha’s face, turning and slinging an arm around Bubble’s shoulder, to which he promptly shooed off. Done with being teased this early in the morning, he mumbled something about how Sorcha and Jack were the worst and went to find Croz.

“We’re not the worst, are we?” asked Sorcha as the moment passed. 

“Me?” Jack pointed to himself, his serious demeanor coming back, “No. But you, absolutely.” 

His words led to a pencil to the head from Sorcha, the former not even reacting as this had become a common occurrence ever since he arrived. Sorcha let out a large sigh as she sat back in her chair, though a pleased smile betrayed any semblance of annoyance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once Sorcha had finished her duties for the day, she popped back to her hut and found an envelope from Cormack on her desk. She quickly broke the seal as she sat down on her bed, anxious to hear from him. 

Dear beloved, amazing, wonderful sister, 

I know when you read, you tend to skip around the page, reading ahead when you shouldn’t in an attempt to spoil things, but I’m asking you for one time only, please read this in order. 

Things have been fine over at King's, I’ve been promoted to Captain, giving me a new title and a shit ton of responsibility. We’ve been in the same predicament as you the last couple of weeks with all these new men arriving, giving us fewer missions to go on. I don’t mind training the newbies, and you’ll hate to hear me say this, but I’m itching to go back up in the air. I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes at me right now, but who am I if not overly honest? Trust that I don’t mention half of this shit to Mom, cause I know she’d be losing her head over all the details. Better to keep her attention on Caoimhe, god knows she’s being smothered in it. Speaking of our baby sister, the little shit hasn’t been responding to my letters. Not that I’m going crazy over it, we all know I’m not sentimental or whatever, but could you pester her to write back? I have a feeling she’d listen to you over me since you have that weird sisterly bond. 

Here comes the part that I’m hoping you didn’t immediately skip to. I’m hoping and praying you actually listened to me for once, don’t go disrespecting an officer like that! You’re gonna be slightly mad when you continue reading, so I ask that you hold your rage in until you finish reading. If you can recall from my dozens of letters, I’ve been seeing Audelia for a while, and you know I love her more than anything. So, we decided to get married. I can visualize your red face right now, but as I said before, don’t get too pissed. I’ll be completely honest with you Uan, I’ve seen too many guys go down and leave their girls behind. I don’t wanna regret anything while I’m here. Some guys think getting married while on tour is stupid, but I think Audelia and I deserve some semblance of married happiness. I’m getting all sappy on you so I apologize, but I’m sure you understand where I’m coming from. 

Write me back when you’re not pissed off at me, or don’t. I’ll be equally entertained either way. 

Love, 

Cormack. 

Sorcha stared at the paper for a good five minutes before gathering her thoughts. “That little fucker.” 

She quickly pocketed the letter before heading off to the officers club to phone her brother. The club was usually empty during the day, as all the men were training or aiding the new crews. Gravel rhythmically crunched under Sorcha's feet as she stomped her way to the building. The short words of greeting from those she passed went ignored, having a one-track mind at the moment. Once inside she nearly sprinted over to the phone attached to the wall, trying to gain a semblance of privacy before dialing her brother's base. The sound of her foot impatiently tapping against linoleum filled the empty hall, matching the rhythm she previously held on her walk. 

After about five minutes of waiting Cormack's voice finally passed through the telephone, “Sorcha?” 

“You little shit! Why the fuck wasn’t I invited to your shotgun wedding- Jesus did you get the girl pregnant. Tell me you didn’t get that poor girl all knocked up. You know mom would absolutely murder you if you had a kid on another continent!” 

A bark of laughter sounded from Cormack's end, deepening the annoyance etched on Sorcha's face. “What’s so funny Cor? Hmmm? Do you enjoy pissing me off?” 

“Honestly, yes. Yes, I do.” Sorcha could hear the smile through her brother's voice. “I’m sorry ok. Since I now know you’ve read my letter, I don’t think I need to explain why it all happened so fast.” 

“Obviously I get that part,” Sorcha scoffed, “but you couldn’t invite me at least? I’m not that bad of a wedding guest. You pulled that charm trick to get me to London, why not Peterborough or wherever the hell you are?” 

“It was a spur-of-the-moment kinda thing, okay. We were just out for a walk together and I proposed. I love her Uan, I really do.” 

“You and that nickname, fuck you for using my feelings against me.” 

“It works, doesn’t it?” Cormack laughed. 

Sorcha's resolve faded as she took in the sincerity of her brother's tone. She let her anger fade with a sigh and let the joy she felt bubble up to the surface. “Was it at least a good proposal?” 

“She said yes. So I guess it was.” 

A deep sigh came from Sorcha's lips as she shook her head, “What a romantic you are. I’m really happy for you though. From what you’ve written, Audelia seems sweet. God knows she must be if she agreed to marry you.” 

“Really feeling the support from you.” Cormack sarcastically drawled, “But yeah, she’s the absolute best. M’not fond of everything about this war, I mean who is, but if anything good comes out of it, it’s Audelia.”

A grin that could light up a room found its way to Sorcha's face as her brother spoke lovingly about his now wife, causing all prior irritation to fade away completely. “She sounds darling. When will I get to meet her?” 

“Maybe around Christmas time.” Cormack floated casually, “I’m sure I could make a good case for you to visit Kings. Plus Audelia has been bothering me about meeting you since we met. Somehow you’ve made a good impression through letters.” 

“Well I am very personable and kind,” Cormack chuckled at his sister's words, calling her bluff. “Oh shut up, deep down you love me.”

Cormacks silence on the other end spoke for itself, “Ok, now tell me all the details about the wedding.” 

Sorcha's question elicited a fake-pained groan from her brother, though he complied with her wishes, repeating the story for what felt like the umpteenth time.

As Sorcha listened to her brother's wedding story, pestering him for leaving details out, she was unaware that someone else had entered the officers club. Rosie had heard her voice as soon as he opened the door, a small smile creeping onto his face. He had been hoping to see Sorcha again since their first conversation, feeling enamored with her. Rosie was aware that she had the attention of practically everyone on the base due to her friendship with the majors, and of course, it didn’t hurt that she was absolutely stunning. Like the others he felt the pull and allure of Sorcha, lining up like many others before him to get a single moment with her. Pappy and the rest of his crew reminded him of Buck's words from their first meeting, stating that there was something going on between Bucky and Sorcha. Rosie protested their warnings, maybe feeling a little bit delusional, as he had felt a special connection with the woman upon their first meeting. Major Egan wasn’t the type to settle down anyway. 

After lingering in the doorway longer than usual, Rosie finally composed himself and made his way to where Sorcha was. Mind racing, he tried to pick a spot where he’d be visible, but not too close in fear of being creepy. Rosie settled himself in one of the leather seats visible from where Sorcha stood, twiddling his thumbs as he waited for her to see him. 

“Well, at least it was a nice ceremony,” Sorcha sighed as Cormack wrapped up his story, finding it far too short for her liking. 

“Is this where you guilt me again about not being there?” 

“I’m just saying it would have been better if I was! God forbid your older sister wants to be part of your life.” 

A low chuckle came from Cormack, “I promise that when we’re all back together I’ll do a proper ceremony.” 

“At Saint Patrick’s?” Sorcha softly asked. 

“Yeah, yeah. I gotta go, but I promise to write you with more details about the wedding and Christmas.” 

A dejected sigh came from Sorcha at her brother's words, cursing the fact that they could never have a full conversation. “I’m holding you to that. Or else I’ll be writing to your CO about it.” 

“Yeah ok,” Cormack teased, “because he’d make his top priority forcing me to write you.” 

Sorcha was quick to defend her words, “You never know what those officers are up to.” 

“Like you would know.” 

An airy laugh fell from Sorcha's lips, sincerity flooding into her voice when she spoke “Hey, as much as I get on you about things, you know I love you, right?” 

A small sigh escaped from Cormack at his sister's words, “Yeah, of course I do. Why else would you be in the middle of god knows where England?” 

“Maybe I like the countryside?” Sorcha joked. “But seriously, I love you Cor. You’re my best friend.” 

The line was silent for a moment as the siblings took in the sincerity of their words and the situation they were in. Tears threatened to escape Sorcha's eyes, but she forced them back, not wanting to end the call on a sad note. 

“If I’m your best friend you are severely fucked.” A burst of laughter came from Sorcha, bouncing off the club’s walls, “Love you too, Uan. I’ll see you soon, ok?” 

“See you soon.” 

The line disconnected with a loud click as Sorcha leaned against the wall. Her lips turned upward, a melancholy feeling spreading across her chest as she gained composure. She finally put the phone back in its place before turning back to the open space of the club. 

“Jesus Christ,” Sorcha's eyes widened when she saw Rosie casually sitting a few feet away from her. She felt as if she had been caught, though she had done nothing wrong. “How- how long have you been here?” 

Rosie immediately regretted his previous choices, eyes widening, and feeling like the creep he so desperately tried not to be. He quickly rose to his feet in an awkward attempt to clear the anxiety in the room. “Oh, not that long. I didn’t hear anything if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“That means you did hear something,” Sorcha narrowed her eyes at Rosie as she sized him up, “everyone says that when they’ve actually eavesdropped.” 

“Well, I wasn’t actively trying to listen in.” Rosie rushed to explain himself, feeling embarrassed beyond belief. As much as he wanted to see Sorcha again, this was not the way he wanted it to go. “Sound just carries.” 

As much as Sorcha wanted to stay upset, seeing Rosie stumble over his words and attempt to alleviate the situation softened her. He acted like a boy whose mother had chastised him for doing exactly what she told him not to do. His cheeks were flushed bright red, swaying side to side as he shifted on his feet, curls usually gelled down now free- she assumed from training- how could she be mad at a man who looked like that? His boyish demeanor was endearing to her, making her fight the urge to tell him everything was ok. Plus, he seemed genuinely sorry, and that counted for something. 

“That it does.” Sorcha chuckled as the annoyance faded from her face. “Care if I join you?” 

Rosie couldn’t cover the shock on his face, wordlessly gesturing to the seat across from his which Sorcha gladly took. Her lips quirked up as she looked at him, still standing, nerves and discomfort radiating off of him. After a moment Sorcha nodded to the chair Rosie had previously occupied, the realization that he was still standing dawned on him, and he made no haste to sit down again. 

“So,” Sorcha began, a light teasing smile finding its way onto her face, “Hear anything interesting?”

“Well- maybe,” Rosie flushed at her insinuation, stopping himself when Sorcha raised an eyebrow,  “The best answer is no, isn't it?”

“Without question.”

The two fell into a comfortable bout of light laughter, Sorcha's unfailing smile easing Rosie’s nerves. His previous wishes of the conversation starting a different way all went out the window when she flashed that smile, the same one that had been occupying his thoughts for over a week now. 

“Not that I was eavesdropping,” Sorcha quirked her eyebrows but let Rosie continue, “But you mentioned Saint Patrick's. That's the big cathedral in Manhattan, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Why did you mention it?” Rosie asked, hesitance evident in his voice, adding to the anxiety he already felt.

“My little brother and I always promised each other that both of our weddings would be held there.”

“Oh.” Rosie’s casual smile dropped at the dreamy look on Sorcha’s face, his mind connecting the dots. He approached the topic with trepidation, “Did the maj- Did you get proposed to recently?”

A smattering of scarlet found its way to Sorcha’s cheeks, “Oh! God no,” Sorcha’s hands went up, waving off the question. “No, no one’s been proposed to except for my brother’s now-wife.” 

Rosie prayed Sorcha didn’t catch the relieved breath that left his lips, “Is he back in the States?”

“No, as much as I wish he was,” Sorcha sighed, “he’s with the 61st over by Cambridge. Flying Spitfires and whatnot.”

Sorcha could tell Rosie wanted to ask something else, glancing at his twitching hands, one rubbing back and forth over his mouth, the other fiddling with a loose string on his seat. She cursed him internally for making her pay attention to his lips, wishing she was immune to his unknowing charm. Before her thoughts could get too deep and merge into thinking about her newfound attraction for the man, Rosie spoke up, “Why Saint Patrick’s?”

“When Cormack and I were younger our parents would take us there each time we visited Manhattan. We usually went down on Sundays, giving my mother an excuse for us to attend mass. Honestly, it was probably one of the only times I’ve looked forward to church.” Sorcha laughed to herself before continuing, “Anyways, Cormack and I would spend the entire mass staring at all the intricate carvings and statues along the pews. After mass ended, we’d line up with the other tourists, stopping to pray at each statue per my mother’s request. On weeks when we had planned to go, my mother would work a few extra hours just so she could have enough change to light a few candles.”

Rosie watched Sorcha’s face light up as she spoke, not daring to interrupt the praises that fell from her lips about a landmark he knew so little about. She spoke so adoringly about the place, a wistful smile permanently gracing her features. Sorcha’s eyes softened almost to the point of closing as she reminisced about the past, something that Rosie found endearing. He inferred that the ‘Cormack’ she spoke of was her younger brother, picking up on the closeness of their relationship. In all honesty, Rosie knew little about Catholic traditions, only recognizing the building she spoke of. Nevertheless, he nodded his head along dutifully, memorizing her features as she spoke. 

Coming out of her trance, Sorcha met Rosie’s eyes again. His baby-blue eyes held an emotion she couldn’t place, a look she had never received. The two sat in silence as they stared at each other, Sorcha getting lost in the calmness and familiarity Rosie’s gaze posed. She wasn’t normally someone who became speechless, but there was something about the sincerity with which she spoke, uncharacteristically divulging stories about her life in New York that got her. Catching herself once again, Sorcha tried to speak, having to clear her throat, “Sorry… I have a bad tendency of talking too much, or talking at people and not letting them get a word in.”

“No need to apologize,” Rosie said with an easy smile that gave Sorcha all the reassurance she needed, “It’s nice to hear someone talk about home and I can give a face to the place. I’m the same way when it comes to talking about my sister.”

“You never said you have a sister!” 

Rosie chuckled at Sorcha’s words, giving her a look as if to say, ‘Really?’ to which she immediately rescinded her shock. A sheepish smile found its way to her face, taking a small inhale before speaking again, “What’s her name?”

“Jeanette. She’s married as well, which drives my Ma crazy since I should be married according to her.” Rosie chuckled, head ducking down in slight embarrassment, “Jean doesn’t pester me about it, which is nice. All of her letters are brief updates from home, mainly how our Ma drives her crazy.”

“That’s sweet.” Sorcha smiled, “I only get letters from Cormack and my mom, both constantly about this whole thing going on.” 

A deep chuckle came from Rosie at her flippancy regarding the situation, “If you want, I could pester Jean to give me some more updates about home? I know Brooklyn and the Bronx aren’t the same, but…” Rosie trailed off, trying to gauge Sorcha’s reaction to his offer. 

“I would love that!” Sorcha beamed, causing warmth to bloom in Rosie's chest, “It’ll be nice to hear something other than what the papers print.”

Before Rosie could continue the conversation, crews started flowing into the club, the atmosphere shifting to one of exhaustion. Sorcha spied the Riviters navigator, Bailey, and who she assumed was the rest of the crew alongside him. She gave the men a shy wave, catching Rosie’s attention as he turned to face his men. 

“I should get going.” Sorcha sighed as she stood and flattened her skirt, “It was nice chatting with you, Rosie. We should do it again sometime, albeit in different circumstances.”

A light blush dusted Rosie’s cheeks at Sorcha’s teasing, nodding his head in agreement. The two gave each other a silent goodbye as Sorcha weaved through the crowd of men in search of the exit. A satisfied smile rested on Rosie’s lips, shaking his head to clear any embarrassing thoughts. 

Pappy was quick to take the seat previously occupied by Sorcha, a questioning look on his face as he took in his friend's shy demeanor. “Should I ask what you two were chatting about that’s got you looking like a teenager?”

“Oh, you know,” Rosie spoke, teasing evident in his voice as he shrugged, “Marriage.”

[loverrofmineee]

Me when

[loverrofmineee]

Writer's block is an absolute bitch. All I do is think about Sorcha and Rosie yet I can't write for them!!

[loverrofmineee]

i’m just THINKING