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hungermakesmonsters · 2 days

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(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Eight

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Mention of periods (don't worry, we're not doing Saltburn), smutty behaviour, use of toys. More sickening cuteness. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5k

A/N : It's not exactly a cliffhanger but I get the feeling people won't like where it ends... Oh also spoilers for Jane Eyre (but it's 170 years old so I'm assuming people know the twist?)

MASTER LIST

Chapter Eight

The gentle touch of his fingers on your cheek woke you and, for a few seconds, you weren’t sure where you were. Billy was crouched in front of you, smiling softly. Your eyes threatened to close again, feeling exhausted and like all of it was just a dream.

“Hey,” he muttered softly, his fingers still tenderly caressing your cheek. “Are you okay?”

Finally, you managed to wake yourself up enough to realise that you weren’t dreaming, and that you’d fallen asleep on the sofa beneath the yellow blanket Billy had bought for you.

“I’m fine, just tired,” you told him, slowly sitting up.

Billy remained crouched in front of you, tenderly cupping your cheek and looking almost concerned.

“Did you draw too much blood again?”

“No, it's not that. I did that hours ago. I'm just really tired.”

“Just tired?” He pressed the back of his cold hand to your forehead, checking your temperature.

“And my head hurts a little.”

“When is, uh -” he hesitated, almost looking uncharacteristically embarrassed, “- when is your next period due?”

Your cheeks warmed with both the realisation and the fact that Billy had figured it out before you. That was why you felt so awful. “Soon, I think? I-I lost track of the days after I moved in,” you explained, “and I've never been very, uh… regular…”

Thankfully, Billy just nodded and sat himself beside you, an arm around you pulling you into his side.

“Do you need to go lay down?”

“No I - I want to spend time with you,” you told him, resting your head on his shoulder. “We didn't really get to finish talking last night…”

“Was there something else you wanted to say or ask?” Billy asked softly, shifting a little so you could get comfortable against him.

You stayed silent for a few moments, thinking over all of the things you wanted to ask, wondering what you had the right to ask. “What causes it? What makes you feel like everything is... too much? I’ve only ever seen a vampire lose control from hunger...”

“Sometimes it’s hunger,” he offered reluctantly, “other times it’s just... I don’t know. Even before I was turned, I was never any good at controlling my emotions. And, now, I feel like I’m constantly fighting myself. When I’m with you, I feel like I’m drowning. Everything about you; your scent, the taste of your blood, the way your heart races... it’s a lot to try and ignore.”

Although the words were spoken to you, about you, you knew better than to read too much into them. It was the constant proximity, he probably felt that way around any human after enough time. It wasn’t because he felt anything for you.

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” he admitted, waiting for a beat before asking; “why did you apologise? I lost control but you apologised.”

“Because I -” you stopped yourself before the lie managed to leave your lips. It hadn’t been your fault, as difficult as it was for you to accept that fact, you knew it was true. “Because I’ve always been made to feel like it’s my fault when bad things happen to me. The night we met, you asked me what I was running from, and that’s part of it; I was raised to feel ashamed and believe I deserved everything bad that happened to me.”

You heard him inhale sharply before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He was silent a moment before speaking again.

“Who left you?” He asked softly. You lifted your head, frowning. “Last night when you asked why I was leaving you it just… you sounded hurt, like someone had left you before…”

“My sister,” you answered, “she left home when she was eighteen and my parents disowned her because of it. She said she'd come back for me, but she never did.”

“Why did she leave?”

“My parents wanted her to marry a guy she didn’t want to marry.”

“Is that why you left?” He asked and immediately seemed to regret it when your gaze dropped. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

A moment later, you snuggled back into his side and closed your eyes. “How long until you have to go to work?”

“I can stay another twenty minutes,” he told you softly, slipping his arm around you. He was silent for a few minutes, before letting out a slow exhale. “I’m not going to be able to see you for a few days, it’s not safe for me to be around you while you’re...”

He didn’t have to say it for you to understand and, as much as you wanted to argue with him, you knew it wouldn’t be fair to try and force the issue. Now that you had some idea of how he felt and how much of a struggle it was for him to be around you sometimes, you knew Billy needed space.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

You stayed that way for another twenty-five minutes until you gently reminded Billy that he was going to be late for work. He didn’t seem to want to leave you and it made your heart ache to think about why that might be. Though, rationally, you understood that it wasn’t you; he was just tired. You were finally starting to understand just how difficult and exhausting it was for him just to get through a day.

He gave you a soft kiss and told you that he’d see you again soon.

The next morning when you woke up cramping and feeling terrible, until you found that he’d left a gift basket in your kitchen, filled with things you might need over the coming days; painkillers, chocolates, a new smart-watch with a cycle tracking app, a heating-pad, various toiletries and a large teddy bear with a note pinned to his chest.

I thought you and Bill the Beagle might want some company.

Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon.

Butterflies filled your stomach at the thoughtfulness of the gifts and, later that afternoon, when you left blood for him, you couldn’t resist leaving him a note of your own.

Thank you for your considerate gifts. William the Bear is a wonderful addition to my growing stuffie collection and the chocolates were lovely. Hope you have a good night at work.

xoxo

The next day you felt even worse but, again, you were pleasantly surprised when you managed to drag yourself to the kitchen to get breakfast and some coffee. There was another box of chocolates and another note waiting for you.

William is a terrible name for a bear. I didn’t expect you to get through the chocolates so quickly, remind me to stock up next month. I hope you’ve not been watching Black Sails without me.

Take care

And, of course - of course - you had to reply, leaving your note with his blood again.

I happen to like the name William. I think it suits him. He looks like a William. I hope you’re not trying to shame me for enjoying the chocolates, truffles and caramels are my weakness. Don’t worry, I’ve not been watching anything without you, I’ve been reading. You were right, Jane Eyre was a very apt choice.

xoxo

His notes became your reason to get up in the morning, though they were a bittersweet reminder of his noticeable absence in your life. It filled you with a strange yearning and an uncomfortable sadness to think about him out there on his own. But that was a silly thought. You didn’t know anything about his life outside of the penthouse, about his work or his friends, maybe he wasn’t even noticing your absence.

(Or maybe he felt it just as much as you did.)

Okay, I have to ask; what does a William look like? Of course I’d never shame you for enjoying the chocolates, but now you’ve told me your weakness I might have to use it to my advantage. I hope you’re enjoying Jane Eyre more than you enjoyed Dorian Gray.

I hope you’re not feeling too bad. I miss our talks.

Your heart stuttered as you read and reread those four little words; I miss our talks. He missed you. Maybe not quite in the same way that you were missing him but, still, it made you long for him even more.

Well, in my experience Williams tend to be cute and cuddly, even though they look a little dark and brooding at first glance. Oh no! Please don’t use my weakness for chocolate truffles against me!!! (The extra exclamation marks are so you read that in a sarcastic tone.) Yes, I think I like Jane Eyre more than Dorian Gray - Mr Rochester kind of reminds me of you.

I’m feeling a bit better today, I should be fine in a couple of days. I miss spending time with you too. I hope you’re not too lonely without me around.

xoxo

You doodled a little picture of the teddy bear he’d given you on the corner of the note but gave him a grumpy looking face and a tag that read ‘my name is William’.

There was a strange feeling of embarrassment when you left the note and you almost changed your mind about it halfway back to your room, and you spent the rest of the evening wondering if it was a little too much.

So, the next morning, you felt a little reluctant to go into the kitchen, and had to take a deep breath before reading his note.

Dark and brooding?? I think you might have to elaborate, but I’ll let you save that for when I see you next. I hope that there will come a point in the book where Mr Rochester doesn’t remind you of me quite so much (I don’t know where you’re up to and I don’t want to spoil it).

I’m glad you’re feeling better. The penthouse isn’t the same without you. It’s strange, you’ve only been here a couple of months yet and it already feels empty without you. I miss you.

P.S. Is the doodle supposed to be me or the stuffie?

It felt like your head was spinning as you read, reread, and read again.

He missed you.

Billy missed you.

You spent half the day writing and rewriting your note to him, in one attempt confessing your feelings, in another acting completely blaise about his confession. Nothing you came up with felt right but the thought of not replying seemed worse.

I see what you mean about Mr Rochester... though I don’t know if I can completely rule out the possibility of you having a strange woman tucked away somewhere in the penthouse. It would certainly explain where all of the chocolates have been going.

I miss you too. I know what you mean, I feel the same way, like I’ve been here longer. But I suppose that’s how things feel when you get close to someone. Hope to see you tomorrow.

xoxo

P.S. I’ll never tell. An artist never reveals her secrets.

There was no end to your relief the next morning when you woke up finally feeling better, knowing that you’d be able to see Billy again. Part of you expected not to find a note, but there it was, waiting for you on your kitchen table, just like the others had been.

I can think of a less mysterious explanation for the disappearance of your chocolates, little hummingbird.

I’m not used to missing people. I’m not used to being close to them either. Some days I feel like my whole life has turned upside down since I met you. I can’t wait to see you again.

P.S. I think it’s magicians that never reveal their secrets, not artists.

Again, he left you searching for deeper meaning in every word, your heart aching for a man who seemed so lonely and alone, a man who didn’t deserve that life at all.

After breakfast you showered and washed your hair, wanting to look your best when you saw him again.

Slowly but surely, over the course of the day, your nerves started to eat away at you; what were you going to say to him? Were you going to pretend that the notes hadn’t happened and that their contents was just idle talk to help the other feel less alone?

You couldn’t sit still as you waited, counting down the hours before sunset, perched on the edge of the sofa and watching his door. The moment it started to open, you were on your feet.

Before he had the chance to even realise that you were there, you’d cleared the distance between you, throwing your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. Billy let out a breath but, for the life of you, you couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of relief or simply because you were squeezing the air from his lungs.

“Hey,” he muttered, his arm slipping around you and holding you almost as tight as you were holding him.

A minute or two passed, neither of you moving or saying anything, until he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and your grip on him started to loosen. You didn’t pull away, but gave yourself enough space to look up at him, smiling shyly as your cheeks started to warm.

“Hi.”

“Hi, hummingbird.”

Neither of you seemed to know what to do or where you were supposed to go from there so, again, you both fell silent, still holding each other. Finally, you dared to reach for him, placing your hand on his cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned into your touch, and butterflies began to swarm in your stomach. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you lifted onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his.

It was a soft, chaste kiss, nothing at all compared to some of the kisses that you’d shared, but you felt his lips pull into a smile against yours before his eyes finally opened again.

“I missed you,” he admitted in little more than a whisper.

His hand moved to rest on your neck and you found yourself glad of his cold touch after what seemed like so long without it.

“I missed you too,” you confessed, “I - I missed you more than I probably should have.”

If Billy understood what you were trying to tell him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he just shook his head and smiled before kissing you again.

You sank against him letting him deepen the kiss and turn it into something else, something new. Normally when he kissed you it felt explosive and desperate, like he was laying claim to you, but this kiss was tender and filled with longing, like he was savouring being with you again. It stole the breath from your lungs.

“I missed you,” he muttered again.

“You already said that.”

“I know, I just -” his head shook, and he let out a huffed laugh, “- this has felt like one of the longest weeks of my life.”

“Have you been okay? Was it -” you hesitated, not sure you wanted to ask the question, “- was it easier without me around?”

Billy pulled back a little, frowning. “Why would it be easier?”

“The other night, you said you feel like you’re drowning when you’re with me,” you shrugged a little, letting your gaze drop for a moment.

Before the notes, you’d assumed that everyone made him feel that way, that it was just part of being a vampire for him. But, now, after his last note and after that kiss, part of you longed for him to admit that it was more, that it was you, that he felt something for you, that he cared.

“I was wrong,” he told you, waiting until you looked up again to continue, “I feel like I’m drowning without you.”

“Oh.” Whatever you’d expected, it hadn’t been that.

“It’s a lot. I know it’s a lot -”

“No,” you shook your head, “no, it’s not.”

“I wish I could’ve met you in another life. I wish it wasn’t like this.”

The words caused your chest to ache, understand what he was saying and why because you felt the same way; the situation was a mess and all either of you could do was make the best of it.

There was more you could say - more you wanted to say - but it didn’t feel like the right time, and it wasn’t fair for you to try and push anything when you had every intention of leaving him once you’d finished your year. So, instead, you pressed yourself against him and hugged him tight.

Once you’d managed to pull away from each other, you spent the next hour sitting with him on the sofa, talking while he drank, trading gentle touches and kisses until he needed to leave. You followed him to the elevator, not sure if he was keeping hold of your hand or if it was the other way around.

It took a couple of weeks for things to start to return to some sort of normal between you.

Karen noticed the first time she saw you, mentioning that you seemed distracted as you walked through Central Park together (thankfully with no sign of Madani in sight), but she didn’t bring it up until you were sitting together a week later, having lunch in a little coffee shop.

“Is everything alright with you and Billy?” She asked, deciding to just go for it.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you answered. And it was fine. You were happy. You just could stop thinking about what he’d said to you and how you wished that things could be just a little bit different so you could both be happy.

“I know Billy’s my friend and you don’t really know me all that well, but you can talk to me if something’s bothering you. Or if he’s done something to bother you.”

There was something in her voice, something knowing that you really didn’t like. But how could she know what was going on with you and Billy, when you didn’t even know yourself?

“Everything’s fine, honestly. It’s great, actually. We’ve been really getting on lately; we’ve been hanging out talking about books and I’ve been making him watch Black Sail on Netflix,” you told her.

Karen nodded, though it didn’t look like she believed you, but she let it drop, leaving you with the sneaking suspicion that she knew a little more about the way Billy was than she wanted to let on.

Your quiet evenings with Billy slowly started to become a little more physical again, though neither of you seemed in a rush to try and push for sex again. Instead, most evenings he’d end up with his head between your thighs, or you’d slip your hand into his pants while you made out. And, even though you found yourself longing for more, you didn’t want to push him. No, you wanted to take things slowly, wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t get overwhelmed again before you took that next step.

Time seemed to fly by and it wasn’t long before the whole penthouse was being turned upside down in anticipation of Billy’s big party; live music, caterers, decorators and, of course, more blood than you felt comfortable seeing in one place. The whole place was transformed over the course of three days and, when the night finally came, you felt almost sick with nerves.

Even Billy had a strange energy about him, checking and double checking every little thing, including a security team from his company whose presence he seemed reluctant to explain to you. You watched from the sofa as he led them around the apartment, explaining where he wanted them and which areas of the penthouse were off-limits. He introduced you to one of them, a human man called Curtis who would be spending the night near the door to your quarters if you needed any help during the night (and, again, Billy didn’t explain what that meant).

A couple of hours before the guests were due to arrive, you went to shower and draw blood before doing your hair and makeup, and getting changed into your dress and shoes. For a few minutes you found yourself staring at your reflection, hoping to find some of the confidence you’d had that night in the dressing room with Billy.

When you stepped out into the penthouse, it only took a moment for his eyes to find you, his jaw threatening to drop as he took in the sight of you. His appearance had the same effect on you; his well tailored tux had you biting your lip.

“Wow, Russo, you really know how to pick them,” Curtis called across the penthouse, earning himself a withering look from Billy and causing your cheeks to heat.

Billy made his way towards you, not bothering to hide the way his eyes were taking in every inch of you. When he reached you, he placed a hand on your hip and kissed your cheek.

“I got you a present,” he told you, using his hand to start guiding you towards the library, pausing momentarily to tell Curtis and his team that they could go take a break before the party started.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as he led you into the library and towards the seldom used desk by the window. Waiting for you were three boxes, each beautifully wrapped in silver paper and tied with black ribbon. Without thought, you found yourself gripping Billy’s arm as your legs threatened to turn to jello beneath you.

He smiled softly, picking up the first box and handing it to you.

“Open it,” he instructed, managing to sound as excited as you felt about this whole exchange.

It felt wrong to destroy the immaculate wrapping, so you took your time, carefully untying the ribbon and peeling open the paper to get at the box. You removed the lid and there, in amongst black tissue paper was an ornate black and silver mask.

“It’s for the party tonight,” he told you when you looked at him for clarification, “we wear the masks until midnight and then take them off. It’s supposed to symbolise vampires being seen by society, but really it’s just an excuse to have fun while no one knows who you are.”

You laughed, head shaking. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

But he didn’t give you time to linger, gently taking the box and mask from your hand before offering you the next present, seeming to get more eager with each passing second. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

Your breath caught as you opened the second box. It was a beautiful choker style necklace with diamanté detailing - at least, you assumed that it was diamanté because you couldn’t even start to imagine how much it would have cost if they were real diamonds. For a few seconds you were lost for words.

“Here, let me,” he offered, pulling the necklace from the box before you even had the chance to answer him. Billy stepped behind you, gently draping it around your neck and fastening it for you.

Your fingers immediately reached up to touch it; it felt a little heavy around your neck and you’d never had a choker style necklace before, but the feel of it would be a constant reminder of Billy and you loved that.

“Thank you, Billy,” you finally managed, turning and wrapping your arms around him before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“There’s one more.” He reached for the last present but seemed a little more reluctant to hand it to you.

And once you’d opened it, you understood why.

“Oh...” said somewhere between shock and confusion.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, especially not after the mask and the choker, but a new sex toy certainly wasn’t it. Your cheeks heated as you looked at the box, trying to make sense of it, the words discreet and remote play only confused you more.

“I want you to wear this for the party,” he told you, a hint of nervousness in his voice, “if you want to, I mean. If it’s too much, I get it. I just - I thought we could have some fun. And there’s going to be so many people, I guess I want to know you’ll spend the night thinking about me...”

Your cheeks continued to burn, part horrified by the notion, but a much larger part couldn’t help but find the idea interesting, arousing even. And, after everything that had happened between you, part of you was still longing for more.

“You want me to spend the night thinking about you?” You asked quietly.

“More than anything,” he answered in little more than a whisper, like he knew it was something he shouldn’t say.

It felt like your heart leapt into your throat for a few seconds and you struggled to swallow around it. All you could think about was that night a couple of weeks ago, how he told you it felt like he was drowning when he wasn’t with you, and you knew that you couldn’t say no to him. (You didn’t want to say no to him.)

“Okay,” you finally answered, “how do I...?”

“Let me,” he offered, perhaps a little too eagerly, taking the box from your hand, muttering something about how he’d cleaned it and charged it ready before wrapping it.

You bit your lip, watching as he pulled the purple silicone toy out of the box, knowing that he could hear your heart pounding. Then he kissed you, slipping his tongue between your lips and enjoying you for a few moments. When he pulled back he began to trace your lips with the tip of the toy before slipping it into your mouth, causing your cheeks to burn hotter.

You watched him suck his fingers, leaving them glistening with saliva before dropping to his knees and slipping them beneath your dress and into your panties. His free hand nudged your knee and you parted your trembling legs a little further while his fingers stirred between your folds, wetting you before slowly slipping into you.

You moaned softly as his fingers slowly started to pump inside you, twisting and bending, easily finding that special spot.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, feeling like your legs were going to give out. Another soft moan escaped you when he looked up at you, holding your gaze as his fingers filled you, over and over. You clenched around him as he licked his lips, knowing that he was imagining the taste of your arousal on his tongue.

“You can come whenever you need to,” he told you, smiling up at you like he was in awe of you.

“Billy...” you moaned, your voice muffled by the toy in your mouth, hating how close you were to falling apart.

Your walls clenched and tightened around his fingers again, but you were already so wet that you couldn’t hold onto him or make him slow. There was something about all of this that seemed so obscene, so dirty, and it just made you want it ever more. His fingers hit that sweet spot one more time and it was enough to push you over the edge. Your legs started to tremble and your thighs pressed together, trying to keep his fingers inside you.

And, all the while, Billy smiled up at you.

A needy whine slipped out when he pulled away his hand, but you soon fell silent when he took the toy from your mouth. Your eyes fixed on the bookshelf behind Billy as he inserted the toy, suddenly feeling embarrassed despite everything you’d just let him do. Once he was done, he straightened your panties and made sure your dress was perfect.

Shifting your weight between your legs, you tried to get used to the feeling of the toy while Billy stood up and took out his phone.

“Let’s give it a little test,” he said with an almost mischievous grin on his lips that caused you thighs to clench. Something told you he was going to enjoy this. A lot.

A sudden whimper was pulled from you as the toy started to vibrate.

Billy’s grin grew as his finger swiped on his phone, causing the vibrations to intensify. As good as it felt, a mixture of shame and concern threatened to ruin the moment.

“What?” Billy asked, stopping the vibrations the moment he noticed your discomfort. “If it’s too much, you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” you answered shyly, a little embarrassed by just how much you wanted to, “It’s just... what if someone realises?”

He offered a soft smile, placing a hand on your cheek.

“They won’t,” he told you with confidence. “It’ll be too noisy for anyone to hear it, and you’ll be good; you won’t come until we’re alone together and I give you permission.”

His thumb tenderly caressed your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you, his tongue slipping between your lips and wiping away any misgivings you might have had. You wanted to do this. You wanted to give Billy the comfort of knowing that you were thinking about him all night. And you wanted to do it for yourself too. You’d wanted to have new experiences and this was definitely new for you.

“Come on,” he said, slipping his hand into yours, “let’s go have a glass of wine and wait for the guests to arrive. It’s going to be a long night...”

End Note : So, originally, this chapter and the party were going all be one chapter, but then I got carried away with the cute notes between reader and Billy. That means next week will be a whole chapter of party shenanigans.

As always, thanks for reading/commenting/liking/reblogging, hope you're enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Have a great weekend!

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cetaitlaverite · 1 day

Text

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

masterlist is linked here in case you missed it and you're interested, the bonus chapter of the first night freddie and rosie spent together in his plane is linked here <3

26. Bärchen

With a hand shielding her eyes, as though she could somehow protect herself from the words Freddie was about to throw at her, Jem let out an almighty huff. “Fred, don’t tell me what I think you’re going to tell me.”

Freddie had her hands clasped behind her back, swinging her hips left and right coquettishly with a pleased little smile on her lips. “Depends on what you think I’m going to tell you.”

“Good or bad news?” Millie asked suspiciously, sitting in the grass around the back of the wireless operators’ nissen hut. Her head was tipped back to rest against the wall behind her, her eyes fixed on Freddie warily. The morning sunshine made the strawberry blonde of her hair appear strikingly red.

Freddie smiled innocently. “Good news!” she chirped. “Very good, I think. And if you love me you’ll be happy.”

“You and Rosie are back together,” Jem said blankly, as though tired of the preamble.

Now it was Freddie’s turn to huff. “Jem, that was my news and I was supposed to announce it!”

Millie snorted. “Fred, you are so predictable it’s unreal. The fact you thought we didn’t anticipate you and Rosie returning from your little holiday thick as thieves is laughable.”

Freddie wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to feel offended. “Well, I didn’t know.”

Jem scoffed.

“Okay, well, maybe I thought it might be nice if all of my anger finally faded away if we went home again,” Freddie amended. “But I didn’t anticipate telling him I love him.”

“What?” Jem’s eyes shot open, the hand shielding them falling instantly to her side.

Freddie smiled smugly. “Ha! Didn’t anticipate that one, did you?”

“You told Rosie you love him?” Millie asked, sitting up straight in the grass. Even Meatball, lying beside her, tilted his head, sensing a change in the tone of conversation.

Freddie’s smile turned sheepish. “It kind of slipped out. Daniel’s mother caught us dancing outside together when we came back from the jazz club.” Freddie launched into a hasty retelling of the argument which had ensued and how her confession of love to Rosie had fit into it. By the time she was finished, Millie and Jem looked decidedly less wary of the entire situation.

“So everything’s back the way it was before?” Jem asked after a beat in which the story settled on the air between them. “You’re just pretending the break up never happened?”

“I apologised for what I said, if that’s what you mean,” Freddie answered her steadily. “Because I was spiteful and unkind. But I don’t see any real reason to drag out the argument any further. I love him and he loves me and that is so special, after everything which happened with Daniel. It’s important. When you first met me did you ever think I’d get to this place ever again? Even this time last year the idea would have been preposterous. I would have laughed in your face if you’d told me I’d fall in love again.”

With a soft sigh, Millie pushed herself to her feet. She approached Freddie and took hold of both of her hands, considering her for a moment, before grinning and using her hold on Freddie’s hands to pull her into a hug. “I’m proud of you, Fred,” she said into her shoulder. “I know it’s not always easy for you but you’re always trying so hard and I’m proud of you.”

Freddie smiled into Millie’s shoulder. “I don’t have to try so hard anymore, really. Not with Rosie. Sometimes I have to be brave but he makes everything feel so safe and so easy. I find it impossible to be angry with him for long.”

When Millie pulled away from their hug Jem was right there and waiting for one of her own. “If he goes down I’ll still fucking kill him,” she warned, wrapping her arms tight around Freddie.

Freddie laughed.

“But I’m proud of you too, Fred,” Jem went on. “You know I only ever want you to be happy, don’t you?” Momentarily, Jem pulled away from the hug and rested both of her hands on Freddie’s shoulders. Her gaze was serious. “When I’m suspicious of Rosie or I complain about him it’s only because I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt, you know that, don’t you? I think he’s really good for you, and I don’t want you to think I’m being unsupportive.”

Freddie smiled and hugged her tight. “I know, Jemmy,” she whispered. “You’re looking out for me. I wouldn’t ever want you to be any other way.”

But while Freddie and Rosie were formally back together, back on base they saw each other almost as little as they had before spending the weekend in Oxford. Work had picked up prominently; Rosie was flying again and he was flying often, and Freddie knew without having to be told that her workload was increasing day after day in preparation for a big invasion of Europe.

She looked over countless flight plans for Croz, circling the locations where Luftwaffe resistance was likely to be the most oppressive in red ink, and combed back through every transcript she could get her hands on of previous manipulation attempts as part of Operation Corona. As time wore on she started to receive some specifics. The invasion was going through France, so she should prepare specifically to target France-based Luftwaffe efforts. Incidentally, it did matter to her planning where they should expect the planes to be coming from.

Later and later into the night she remained in her office. No one batted an eye because she wasn’t the only one. Croz was likely single-handedly causing a coffee shortage in the south east of England - Freddie wasn’t sure he had slept since March - and the bags under Jack’s eyes were so dark against his pale skin they almost looked like bruises.

Freddie’s office was a mess. There were piles of paper everywhere, some screwed up in balls where she’d become frustrated with her own plans and tried to toss them into the bin and missed. Her shoes were strewn halfway across the floor along with a couple of Meatball’s toys from Christmas. Her jacket was on the leather sofa - Meatball was currently using it as a pillow - and her tie was hanging off the back of her chair. The chaos was organised, at least to Freddie, but it was still chaos, and chaos it would remain until the invasion had come and gone.

Today, Freddie had skipped lunch. If she wanted to get to bed at a reasonable hour for once she simply couldn’t afford the luxury of leaving her office. She worked relentlessly, until her eyes burned and her throat ached for water, until the typewritten words on the pages in front of her started to blur together. She rubbed at them harshly until she could see straight again.

She wasn’t sure when Rosie had arrived. She hadn’t heard him come in. He called her name in a tone which suggested he’d been calling it for a while and when she looked up he was frowning, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall opposite her. “You weren’t at dinner.”

Freddie nodded. “No time,” she said, turning back to her work.

“You weren’t at lunch, either.”

Freddie shrugged. She didn’t look up.

“Fred, the invasion ain’t tomorrow,” Rosie said.

“It might as well be,” Freddie replied, her focus largely on the pages in front of her. “I need to make sure we’re prepared. If working overtime for a little while helps to save lives then what does it matter in the grand scheme?”

Rosie sighed. “You won’t do your best work if you’re exhausted.”

Freddie shook her head, her eyes quickly scanning the words on the paper before her. “It’s muscle memory by now. My German’s native, I don’t have to think about it, and I know these missions. I just need to be sure -”

“You need to rest, Fred,” Rosie cut her off.

Freddie shook her head again. “I just need to get these done.”

She almost forgot he was standing there, watching her closely, as she fell back into the routine of her work. She marked out places where communication could be stronger, highlighted instances where orders had been evaded, distrusted, or confusing. All of this needed to be tightened. There needed to be no doubt on the day of the invasion that the fake orders they were giving the German fighter pilots were real.

The words she was reading became loud in her head. Her temples started to throb, thudding with the rhythm of them. Her eyes were blurring again. She squeezed them tightly shut a few times until her vision straightened, then went straight back to her work.

“Fred,” Rosie said with a sigh as she reached for a new set of papers, “the world won’t end if you take one night off to go on a date with your boyfriend.”

Freddie glanced up. This was the first she was hearing of a date. She rested both of her elbows on the desk and put her chin in her hands. “My job is important. I want to make sure we win -”

“Brilliant as you are, Fred - and you are brilliant - you aren’t gonna win us the war single-handedly, sweetheart. Especially not like this.” Rosie’s voice was soft and so were his eyes when she met them. He was always so gentle and patient.

For seemingly no reason at all, Freddie’s bottom lip started to wobble.

Rosie was crouching beside her desk chair in an instant, turning it to face him.

“I’m just tired,” Freddie batted away his concern as she sniffled and pushed back her tears. “And I want to go on a date with you but I’ll feel so guilty if I don’t get my work done.”

“Just a short date,” Rosie reasoned, resting both of his elbows on her knees. His eyes were kind. “It’s warm today. I brought you some dinner and I thought we could have a picnic for dessert.”

Freddie smiled, reaching out and pushing back some of his hair. “Did you get chocolate?” she asked quietly.

He smiled wide, chuckling a bit under his breath. “I got so much chocolate,” he assured her. “The kitchen’ll probably put up warning posters once they see how much is missing.”

Freddie laughed. “My most favourite little thief,” she said fondly, still running her fingers through his hair, attempting to loosen the gel and free his curls. “Aren’t lawyers supposed to be loyal to the law at all costs?”

Rosie scoffed, grinning. “No. Lawyers just know how not to get caught.”

Laughing, Freddie leaned down to kiss his forehead. She let her lips linger there for a moment before sighing and withdrawing. “I can’t be gone for more than an hour,” she told him, keeping her eyes on him and the way his eyes lit up even as she began to organise the papers strewn across her desk into files.

“I’ll have you home before curfew, Fred, don’t you worry about that.”

Freddie laughed, rolling her eyes indulgently. “You’re so cheesy sometimes, Rosie.”

“I’m just in love,” Rosie dismissed her. “And who can blame me?”

Rosie had his military issue duffle bag waiting outside her office door - evidence Freddie hadn’t needed that he hadn’t been prepared to take no for an answer - and he picked it up to take with them as he led Freddie and Meatball to the airfield.

It was deserted aside from some of the mechanics working on the planes. The ground crews paid Freddie and Rosie no mind - aside from Ken Lemmons, who called out his greetings. When Meatball ran over to greet his former babysitter, Ken promptly smothered him in attention, grinning as Meatball ran around his ankles and barked.

Rosie laid out an old blanket for him and Freddie to sit on and then set out his wares. Along with everything he’d taken from dinner for Freddie, he’d also managed to scavenge multiple chocolate bars and some strawberries. Freddie smiled as she watched him try to lay it out nicely for her.

Meatball, worn out from demanding Ken’s attention, made his way back over to them and laid down on the blanket behind them, content to laze in the warmth of the sunset. The sun was still setting so late. Freddie wondered if the government would decide to treble the daylight savings this year and have it still look as bright as midday at midnight.

Freddie started to eat the dinner Rosie had brought her quietly while Rosie entertained Meatball, playing fetch with one of the toys Meatball had brought along with them. Smiling, Freddie watched them and tried to imagine having this even after the war. Her, Rosie, and a dog, sitting outside to watch the sunset and having a picnic. It sounded like a dream.

“Is this our first date?” Freddie asked suddenly. She had just finished dinner and was watching idly as Rosie started to unwrap one of the chocolate bars.

He glanced up at her with a confused grin. “No. Of course not. It can’t be.”

“I think it is.” She shared his smile, cocking an eyebrow in challenge.

“What about all those times in my plane?” Rosie countered.

Freddie scoffed. “Those were not dates. They were…” She searched for an appropriate word. “Trysts,” she decided. “Rendezvous. I don’t know. But I’m disappointed to have to inform you, Major Rosenthal, that taking a girl to your plane to fool around does not constitute a date.”

Rosie laughed, rolling his eyes amusedly. “Alright, first of all, we don’t ‘fool around’. And second of all, if I remember correctly you were the one taking me to my plane the first time we made love.”

Freddie grinned. “Oh, yes, because you took so much convincing. Need I remind you I can’t actually get in without your help?”

“What about in Oxford, then?” Rosie challenged, returning to unwrapping the chocolate bar but grinning to himself as he did it. “When we got ice cream? When you showed me around? When we went to the jazz club?”

Freddie hummed thoughtfully. “Though you make a strong case, you remain incorrect. We got ice cream because I wanted ice cream and you agreed to go with me. I showed you around because that is what people tend to do when they take someone home with them. And the jazz club.” She had to consider her argument for a moment. “Well, the jazz club would be your most compelling argument, but considering it was my idea and I suggested it to you when we were still just friends, I don’t think it can be considered a date.”

Rosie tipped his head back and groaned playfully. “There was a rose on our table!”

Freddie raised both of her eyebrows as he met her eyes once more. “Did you put it there?”

“No.”

“Did you ask them to put it there?”

“No.”

“Then I fail to see the relevance.”

Rosie laughed, tossing the chocolate bar to the blanket so he could wrap both of his arms around Freddie and lift her to sit between his legs. “So hard to please,” he teased into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She giggled as he kissed her cheek and then her neck. “If all those weren’t dates then this ain’t a date either. If we’ve still got a first date to have then I wanna plan it properly.”

Freddie grinned, turning her face towards him and instantly receiving a kiss to her lips. She laughed. “After careful consideration I’ve decided to allow you to take me on a formal first date, Major. This will be a prologue, of sorts. A prelude.”

“A preview,” Rosie suggested, grinning.

“Right,” Freddie agreed. “A preview. Exactly.”

“When can I take you out on a real date?” His eyes were all lit up like he was looking at the stars.

Freddie smiled back at him, lifting a hand to caress his cheek fondly. “I believe that’s up to you, the Right Honourable Date Planner.”

“Alright,” Rosie conceded. “When would be a bad time to take you out?”

Freddie considered this. “Late at night or early in the morning,” she decided. “A good window of opportunity would be when we’d usually be in the officers’ club.”

“Gotcha,” Rosie confirmed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Freddie smiled, leaning in to nuzzle their noses together. “I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

Freddie remained sitting between Rosie’s legs as they made a start on the dessert he’d acquired for them. She hummed happily as she alternated between the chocolate and the strawberries, smiling every time Rosie leaned down to press a kiss against the side of her face.

She could feel how in love he was feeling, sitting there on an old blanket in the middle of the airfield, eating stolen sweets as the sun set. He couldn’t seem to get his hands off of her, nor his lips. And Freddie resented that she’d been the reason they’d been kept apart for a little while. This new workload had come with a lot of consequences but the worst of them was making her take for granted the man who had her heart.

“Rosie, I love you,” Freddie declared as she finished her chocolate bar and turned to face him. She sat up on her knees between his legs and curled her arms around his neck. “I love you so bad.”

His smile was wide as he gazed back at her through the vibrant orange of the setting sun. “I love you too, Fred. So, so bad.”

She sat quietly and just looked at him for a little while, taking in his face and its happy glow, his curls and the almost red tint to their ends under the light of the sunset, the fond curve of his lips as he smiled, not for any particular reason other than contentedness.

“I love you so much,” Freddie whispered, brushing a kiss against his smiling lips. After Daniel was killed she thought she’d never love a man again, that she’d live a long, lonely life and die old, still dreaming of the love she’d lost at twenty-one. But here was Rosie and she loved him more than life itself, more than she’d imagined herself capable of feeling love anymore. He’d met all of her rebuttals with patience and acceptance and gifted her the love she had now by being willing to wait for it. “My angel,” she breathed, rubbing her thumb over his cheek as she cupped it. “My love.”

Rosie was smiling. His cheek was warm beneath her thumb. “How do you say ‘I love you’ in German?”

Freddie smiled and moved her thumb out of the way momentarily just so she could press a kiss to his blushing cheek. “Ich liebe dich,” she said. “But you can only use it with someone you’re in love with. You have to be absolutely sure.”

“Ich liebe dich,” Rosie said, trying hard to work out the unfamiliar syllables.

Freddie smiled, endeared by his attempt. “Ich lieb’ dich auch, Bärchen.”

“What does that mean?”

“Bärchen?” Rosie nodded, so she translated, “Little bear. It’s a term of endearment. You would only use it for a boyfriend or a husband and since Daniel hated German I’ve never really gotten to use it. But you -” she was smiling wide as she kissed the tip of his nose, “- are the most ‘Bärchen’ Bärchen I have ever met.”

“I’m a little bear?” Rosie scrunched his nose up, both in response to her kiss and to her claim.

Freddie laughed. “Not because you’re little! Because you’re precious. ‘Little’ is used in German terms of endearment more to emphasise the fondness you feel for something than for size. So a Junge is a young boy, but a Jungchen is a young boy you feel affection for, generally a son. He doesn’t have to be little. It’s the same with Bärchen. So you’re my Bärchen. Und ich lieb’ dich so sehr, ich könnte sterben.”

Rosie was smiling even though he couldn’t understand her. “Can you teach me some? I wanna be able to understand you when you speak German.”

Freddie grinned, sitting up straighter on her knees. “You want to learn German?”

Rosie tilted his head to the side as he gazed at her, his eyes flicking between the bright smile on her lips and the warmth in her eyes. “It’s a part of you. Maybe the only part of you I don’t understand yet.”

Freddie fell forward into his arms, curling her own around his neck as she kissed him repeatedly. “I love you,” she mumbled against his lips between kisses, again and again and again. “Ich lieb’ dich. I love you. I love you so bad it hurts.”

“I don’t want it to hurt,” Rosie said, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“It feels happy too,” Freddie reassured him. “Safe and warm and exciting. It just hurts when I don’t know how to express it clearly enough.”

Rosie smiled. “I think you do a pretty good job.”

Freddie shook her head. “You’ll never know how much I love you, whatever language I tell you in.”

“But I feel it.”

“Good.” Freddie smiled. She needed him to feel it. If there was one person in the whole world who deserved to know he was loved it was Rosie. She couldn’t stand the thought of him ever passing a day doubting it.

#watm #my writing #hbo war #hbo war x oc #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #rosie rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal fanfic #rosie rosenthal fanfiction

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