#julius robert oppenheimer

[pedroam-bang]

Oppenheimer (2023)

[oppieandeverything]

Artwork belongs to vinegarclown on X (Twitter).

[margueritedaisies]

Its been awhile but here an old traditional flipbook animation of Barbenheimer 💥💋

[ziggyplayedguitar96]

Christopher Nolan is not beating the allegations

[gregor-samsung]

“ Suo padre era su Campañia Hill con Oppenheimer al Trinity. Teller. Bethe. Lawrence. Feynman. Teller faceva girare la crema solare. Indossavano guanti e occhialoni. Come dei saldatori. Oppenheimer fumava come una ciminiera e aveva la tosse cronica e i denti guasti. Occhi di un azzurro folgorante. Un accento indefinibile. Quasi irlandese. Portava vestiti buoni ma che gli ballavano addosso. Non pesava niente. Groves lo ingaggiò perché aveva visto che non si lasciava intimidire. Tutto qua. Un sacco di gente molto sveglia pensava che fosse l’uomo piú sveglio che Dio avesse mai creato. Strano tipo, quel Dio. C’erano persone che erano scappate da Hiroshima per precipitarsi a Nagasaki e accertarsi che i loro cari fossero al sicuro. Arrivando giusto in tempo per morire incenerite. Lui ci andò dopo la guerra con una squadra di scienziati. Mio padre. Disse che era tutto arrugginito. Tutto sembrava coperto di ruggine. Nelle strade c’erano carcasse di tram distrutte dal fuoco. I vetri sciogliendosi erano usciti dai telai ed erano colati sui laterizi. Seduti sulle molle annerite gli scheletri carbonizzati dei passeggeri senza piú vestiti né capelli e con lembi di carne annerita appesi alle ossa. Gli occhi lessati nelle orbite. Labbra e nasi mangiati dalle fiamme. Ridenti sui loro sedili. I vivi vagolavano ma non c’era dove andare. A migliaia si precipitavano nel fiume e ci morivano. Erano come insetti: nessuna direzione era preferibile a un’altra. Gente in fiamme strisciava fra i cadaveri come una specie di horror in un crematorio gigante. Credevano semplicemente che il mondo fosse finito. L’idea che tutto ciò avesse a che fare con la guerra non li sfiorava quasi. Portavano fra le braccia il fagotto della loro stessa pelle come un bucato da non trascinare fra le macerie e nella cenere e incappavano alienati gli uni negli altri nelle loro deambulazioni da alienati su residui di suolo fumante, il vedente in difficoltà quanto il cieco. La notizia di tutto ciò non uscí dalla città per due giorni. Chi sopravvisse spesso ricordava quegli orrori come dotati di un certo valore estetico. In quello spettro fungoide che sbocciava nell’alba come un maligno fiore di loto e nella fusione di solidi fino ad allora ignota risiedeva una verità che avrebbe silenziato la poesia per mille anni. Come un’enorme vescica, dicevano. Come una cosa marina. Tremolava appena sul vicino orizzonte. Poi quel rumore terribile. Videro uccelli nel cielo albeggiante prendere fuoco ed esplodere silenziosamente e cadere in lunghi archi verso terra come cotillon in fiamme. “

Cormac McCarthy, Il passeggero, traduzione di Maurizia Balmelli, Einaudi (Collana Supercoralli), 2023; pp. 115-116.

[Edizione originale: The Passenger, Alfred A. Knopf Inc., 2022]

[opje]

I can see why Nolan cast Cillian…

[meerawrites]

Oppenheimer: genius not martyr 

Overall a brilliant film, a think piece, there are no real heroes in history, only winners and losers. Oppenheimer was absolutely a victim of America's fear of the theorist, revolt, the ‘other’, as well as the backlash against communism and socialism.

[thatwritererinoriordan]

I still can't believe J. Robert Oppenheimer didn't prefer to be called Julius. If my name were Julius, I would make everyone call me Julius all the time. "It's Julius. Yeah, like the dead emperor from Stabby Day."

[neonporcelain]

blushing oppenheimer? i mean yeah why not

[pedroam-bang]

Oppenheimer (2023)

[margueritedaisies]

Barbenheimer AU where Barbie is an actual human and a Soviet lady spy in 1940s who's on a mission to nose around in Robert's business for intel.

Shes poses as some foreign high end model/escort lady . Think of the potential,the tension and heavy atmosphere of secrets.

Shes poses as some foreign high end model/escort lady . Think of the potential,the tension and heavy atmosphere of secrets.

She and Oppie met when General Groves hired her as an escort for Oppie. Groves thought it was a funny thing to do much to Oppie's chagrin.

To Barbie made her mission easier but means she has to tread carefully for now. He always pull shit where he tries to be threatening and suddenly gentlemanly

Barbie always fuming in anger and fear (& maybe attraction?) in private because she almost gave herself away.

While shes slightly falling for him ,Robert is still figuring her out. He still weighing it in if shes a threat.

[cigarettesandcoffee1904]

Little Robert and his parents

Ella Friedman Oppenheimer & Julius S. Oppenheimer

[opje]

For the love of all that is holy, please stop saying that Robert was a Communist. You are completely misunderstanding who he was as a person if you honestly believe that that was the only political ideology that he subscribed to. He believed in aspects of Communism, and he realized after two of his friends returned from Russia that true Communism could never be achieved. He believed in giving to the people who were going to get shit done, but he himself was a New Deal Democrat (aka a Socialist). I am so heartbroken that people to this day continue to call the man a Communist when he made it clear to Chevalier that he had never been one. This was long after his security clearance was removed that he said this after Chevalier wrote a shit book that was so clearly based off of Robert. No doubt to sell more copies, but thankfully most of the scientific community and historians knew that that was bullshit.

[infinitegalahad]

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - EPILOGUE

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Indentifying! Reader Summary: Looking up at the chalkboard, you see him. He’s Dr.Oppenheimer, but to you, he’ll always be Robert or Oppie. Word Count: 2.7k Warnings: Warnings are very spoiler, so well...be warned! Cancer, death, alcoholism, mentions of suicide (not by main characters and is mentioned once at the end), and overall a very bittersweet ending. Beware! This is in fact sad! Notes: for real, the end? it's here. not going to lie, i did get a little emotional writing this. the epilogue is loosely inspired by american prometheus, which made me cry in it's epilogue, just as it is doing to me now. this story has been such a rollercoaster, and I've had an amazing time writing it. thank you all for the amazing support, you guys really rock. I'm starting school soo and I'll be busy, but I'll get back into writing once i find my routinr. i hope you can enjoy this conclusion, and as a warning, apologies in advance! I love you all very much, and thank you so much for all the love! Taglist: @forgottenpeakywriter @queenshelby @chloriine36 @kodzuvk @amanda08319 Taglist | Masterlist

Marriage Certificate

Jurisdiction: Charlottesville, Virginia

Certificate Number: MCS123456789

Date of Marriage: June 1st, 1955

This is to certify that on the aforementioned date, in accordance with the laws of the City of Charlottesville, the following individuals entered into marriage:

Groom:

Name: Julius Robert Oppenheimer

Date of Birth: April 22, 1904

Residence: 91 Olden Lane

Bride:

Name: (Y/n) (Y/m/n) (Y/l/n)

Date of Birth: (Y/dob), 1921

Residence: 105 Ivy Dr

Marriage Ceremony:

Date and Time: June 1st, 1955, at 5:00 PM

Officiant: Dr. Allen Hill

Title: Authorized Officiant

Witnesses:

Name: (y/b/n) (y/b/m/n) (y/l/n)

   Address: 10 Pennsylvania Avenue

Name: Hatomi Haruka Yamamoto-Bell

   Address: 600 Dittmar Oaks  

Under penalty of perjury, the undersigned parties declare that the information provided above is true and correct to the best of their knowledge.

Signatures:

_____________________________      _____________________________

Julius Robert Oppenheimer                (Y/n) (Y/m/n) (Y/L/N)

Groom's Signature                                     Bride's Signature

_____________________________

Dr. Allen Hill

Officiant's Signature

_____________________________      _____________________________

 (y/b/n) (y/b/m/n) (y/l/n)                              Hitomi Haruka Yamamoto-Bell

Witness's Signature                                Witness's Signature

Seal: City of Charlottesville, Virginia

–

You and Robert married the same day of your graduation at UVA on June 1st, 1955. You let your parents know about your marriage and plans to move to Princeton. It took them time to process that you married your Physics Professor, but they accepted it once they met Robert and were impressed. They also enjoyed that you were only a train ride away from the city of Princeton. 

Robert kept to his promise of no more games. He stayed loyal and steadfast and was honest and loving to you. He doted on and adored you, showering you with both affection and gifts. You had kept all of the gifts he had given you at Berkeley, occasionally using the new perfumes if you couldn’t look for all of the new floral scents Robert had bought for you. Despite you both being busy with your jobs at Princeton and the local private high school, you two found time for each other. 

Your time together reminded you of those Friday study sessions at Berkeley, where you were a young girl and Robert was your professor who had been struck by “one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen”. Robert had helped you become a woman, and despite how many times you and he tried to move, you always fell back to each other. 

With your newfound marriage, you and Robert could be in public together. Of course, there was scrutiny and controversy of the age gap and both of your involvement with the Manhattan project. Still, Robert could hold your hand, and you could lean on his shoulder. Sure, there stares, but those could easily be ignored. At the many lavish dinners you attend, Robert would put his hand on your hip and whisper into your ear nothing but sweet yet dirty thoughts. You’d look at all of the judgemental onlookers, and simply hugged Robert, brightly smiling at them. 

It was one of those nights. It was like your Friday nights, but extended; talking about the day full of academics, making a delicious dinner, cleaning up said dinner, fucking either by the fire or on the bed, and lazing in each other’s embrace. 

You had your back curled to Robert as he held you. That one night, he let go for a short second, before you felt a cold metal on your neck and the sound of a clink of a clasp. 

“I saw this, and it made me think of you and the Bhagavad Gita,” Robert explained as he moved your hair back forward, “Do you like it?”

The necklace was a short gold chain with a pendant of the seven Chakras. You run your hand hovering the expensive gold and gems inside, smiling to yourself. You turn to Robert and place a peck on his lips, admiring the beautiful necklace. 

“It’s beautiful, Robert. Thank you, thank you, thank you-”

You repeat this sentence over and over as you wrap your arms around his neck, throwing him down to the bed and decorating his body with kisses. Ultimately, the two of you end of lovemaking once again, and remind yourselves to rewash the sheets. Again. 

The next week, you are forced to rewash your sheets as Robert, per usual, fucks you after the University of Washington last minute declines his offer to speak at their commencement ceremony. Like old times, you claw your nails down his neck and scream his name until he finishes inside of you, making your belly feel all warm. You smile and hope, for once, there’s some good news for the future continuation of you and Robert.

It takes many tries, but on January 5th of 1958, you give birth to Thaïs Jackie Oppenheimer. She’s a healthy baby girl. You nearly died giving birth, but it was worth seeing her curl into Robert’s arms as if it were a natural instinct. Even as a child, she’s got the blue Oppenheimer’s eyes and your fiery personality. After Thaïs birth, you remained in the ICU for a while. In a window outside of your room, you would see Robert in the distance as he overlooked Thaïs bed, talking to her and promising her nothing but the world. In your recovering pain, it made you cry. 

Eventually, you returned back to work as a school-teacher, splitting your time with the au-pair while taking care of Thaïs. She’s a very vocal child, and like Robert, highly precocious. By the time she’s six, she can name every rock and flower in your garden by their scientific name. Not to mention, she can hold more basic conversation in Latin and Greek than you, thanks to Robert and his bedtime stories of Ancient Latin and Greek myths. 

Dinner is a family affair. As the three of you all cook, you find it hard to keep up with Robert and Thaïs’s long conversation that switches between Greek and Latin, ranging from what to next in meal prep, the rocks Thaïs’s collected at school today, and what toy Robert will buy her next if she behaves. You can follow the basics, but you smile and keep yourself, cooing and kissing your newborn baby boy, Elias. 

Each night, Robert worships you like you’re a goddess. As you read his book recommendations, he decorates your body with kisses and calls you his “temple”, thanking you for being the Athena to his Prometheus and giving him life. You could not be happier. 

But bliss is temporal, not everlasting. 

First, it’s the apparent hoarseness. Robert thinks it’s cold, but that’s until he’s coughing up blood two weeks later. Also, with the neck and ear pain, you grow worried, and unfortunately, your worst fears come to light. Robert’s heavy smoking did not help his case, and in late 1965, he was diagnosed with throat cancer. 

You had quit smoking a long time ago, long before the birth of your children, but Robert continued. Since you had met him, he had always been a smoker no matter what, falling from a cigarette pack to multiple pipes a day. The cancer is infectious and both of you know it’s in fact very bad, and it’s only going to continue to get worse but not fast, but slowly and painfully. Robert has a persistent cough in which he tries to hide from you and the children but fails to. His skin becomes as gray as his thinning hair, and he’s losing weight faster than you can count. 

After his diagnosis, there are many sleepless nights between you and Robert. You are both worried about each other in your own ways. One particular night, Robert sits on the edge of the bed. The bones in his back are visible, and you feel like you can see the bones in his back. He’s handsome, but so terribly sick all at once. Crawling from under the sheets, you quietly crawl toward him and hug him from behind. You sob into his shoulders, and he grabs your arms.

“Stop worrying,” He reassures you as he kisses your shaking palm, “You’ll be okay, love.”

“Robert, stop. It’s not about me. It’s about you,” You sob uncontrollably, “I’m scared, Robert. Not for you, for me.”

That night, Robert holds you and tells you that things will improve. He doesn’t promise it, though. 

In late 1966, Robert underwent surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy, which were all unsuccessful. 

Robert has done so much for you and protected you from so much. Now, it’s your turn to do so. 

When he breaks the news that, realistically, he’s going to die within the next six months, you and his plan to bring Thaïs and Elias to Saint John. 

Robert can’t do the things he used to do. Robert is still as handsome as he always has been, but he’s more frail and sickly looking, a shell of the man he once was. The only thing he can do is spend time with you and his children, valuing his time, which is running out faster than he can count. He builds wooden lodges with houses with Elias, collects seashells and rocks with Elias, and lies in your lap as you read him all of the old books and Greek myths the two of you used to read together. 

Robert tries to make you a Martini one night, but he struggles in the kitchen. A glass drops and you run in, to find both of his hands shaking. He confesses to you that he can’t keep his hands still, and he can’t stop apologizing after. You smile, holding back tears, telling him it’s okay. 

You, Robert, and your family soon return to Princeton. At that time, you call and invite people who are close to you, Robert, so he gets the chance to say goodbye. Kitty and his children come by. They're as devastated as you are, but they thank you. Kitty, for the first time, cries in front of you, and says you have a beautiful family; thanking you for taking care of Robert. You break down in front of her, and Kitty hugs you. 

It’s clear that Robert’s in his final days of life. He can’t remember or speak coherently as he used to. Your children are very aware of this, and you prepare them for the worst that is to come. 

It’s nighttime, and Robert’s in bed, saying he’s going to read a book that you’d enjoyed. You make him peppermint tea downstairs to help him fall asleep. As you make the tea, you can hear Robert’s horse voice as he talks to their children. If you bend your ear further, you can hear his voice shaking as he tells his children that he loves them more than anything, and to treat you, their mother, with nothing but love and respect. 

You go upstairs with the tea you’ve prepared for Robert. He thanks you and smiles as if he’s seen you for the first time, refusing to let go of your hand with a weak grasp. As you change quickly into your pajamas, you jump into bed with him and hold him carefully, not wanting to hurt him. 

“Sweetling?” He says your term of endearment in a sing-song voice. You look up, fully attentive. 

“Yes, Oppie?”

With a trembling hand, he holds out an aged navy book with gold print; Hades and Persephone. 

“Can you please read this to me?”

Once you grasp the book, tears begin to form in your eyes. As much as you want to cry, you hold your tears back and nod your head. Leaning against Robert, you open to the book’s preface and see all of his annotations inside. Some of them are about you. You’re about to start reading when Robert, in his classic fashion, grabs your hand and holds it to his chest. 

“Y/n?”

You don’t look over as you close your eyes. 

“Yes, Robert?”

“I love you, y/n”

A tear falls down your cheek, but you don’t let Robert see it. 

“I love you too, Robert.”

That night, Robert falls into a coma. Three days later, he dies. He was sixty-two years old. 

Once you have the funeral and dump his ashes into the US Virgin Islands water, you and your two children move down to Williamsburg, Virginia. You don’t want to be in Princeton anymore, as if it reminds you of Robert. Your family recommends you move back to New York City or Charlottesville, but you refuse; they all have Robert’s name written on it. 

In Williamsburg, you grieve heavily at losing your first and only love, but motherhood keeps you busy. You get a job as an assistant professor at William and Mary, and just as you usually do, you cope with the pain until it becomes numb, losing yourself in your work and children. It’s what Robert would want for you. 

Each night, after you make dinner by yourself, you go to your room and drink, reading all of Robert’s books from his reading list that shaped his mind. 

One night, you’re drunk and sad. You’re primarily drunk at night, hazy and unaware, but some nights you are sad, not always. A ten-year-old Elias walks into your room, asking why you are crying so much. 

For a second, you think he’s Robert with his big blue eyes and puff of dark hair, which makes you sob even more. 

After Robet’s death, Kitty writes to you frequently to ensure you’re doing okay alone with the kids. You write back, and in her final years, the two of you build a friendship until her untimely death in 1972. You speak at her funeral and say in your speech that you hope she’s reunited with Robert. 

Thaïs and Elias both grow into fine adults. Thaïs goes to study chemistry and history at Davis while Elias studies nuclear physics at Princeton, which you know would make Robert proud of both of them. 

Toni, Oppenheimer’s daughter from Kitty’s marriage, committed suicide in 1977. Robert gave her the ranch in New Mexico. Peter refuses to take it, so it’s given to Thaïs. For Thanksgiving and Christmas, you meet Thaïs and Elias there to celebrate the holidays, taking them horseback riding to explore the beauty of New Mexico that Robert once showed to you. 

Thaïs and Elias grow old, and have their own lifes. They stop visiting for holidays, as they are preoccupied with their own families and affairs. You never get angry at either of them for doing so; it’s human nature. 

And so you retreat back to the island of St.John, where your beach house is. It holds both fond and sad memories of Robert, especially within his last years. It’s probably not the best idea if you are out there alone, but you manage to keep yourself distracted with the television, books, and old photos surrounding you. You keep yourself busy and entertained, only getting sad at night about Robert. 

One night, you’re reading on Robert’s old chair. There’s a peppermint tea that’s untouched by your side, along with a fully drinken bottle of wine. With a blanket over you, you read Robert’s old, annotated copy of Hades and Perspehone. You’ve read it a thousand times by now, but the story never gets old to you. It will never get old for you. 

As you reach the end, in which Persephone stays with Hades, your eyes begin to feel heavy. Your hands and fingers feel tingly and heavy. With your eyelids feeling droopy and breathing feeling short, you rest your head back and into the chair. Everything slowly goes back. You're not sad to be going; infact, you’re happy. 

Sometime later, you awaken in a hazy world. It’s an alternate reality since you feel much younger, sitting at a desk, and looking down at your book; it’s an introductory book to Physics with your navy notebook, your name taped on the side. 

Looking up at the chalkboard, you see him; Robert. He’s Dr.Oppenheimer, but to you, he’ll always be Robert or Oppie. He’s got his cigarette in hand, and those damn blue eyes that you loved. Oh, how you’ve missed them. He looks directly at you in the class, and you directly at him. There are people talking, and while they are close, their voices are nothing but mindless mutters.

Robert smiles at you.

Your heart skips a beat. 

You sigh and smile right back at him. At last, you’re home. 

[mostlyvoid-partiallyturtles]

My son, Julius Robert Oppenheimer AKA Uranium-238 AKA Glorp AKA Kepler

[elk96]

Too Good To Dream Of

Pairing: J. Robert. Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy's Portrayal x male OC)

Words: 3282

Warnings: internalised homophobia, period typical homophobia, overstimulation, smut, anal sex, blowjobs, aftercare, flirting, biting, little bit of rough sex, gay sex.

Summary: A man from Oppenheimer's past comes to work at Los Alamos. With the help of whiskey and many martinis, a new fire lights up.

This is not in any way meant to be disrespectful towards J. Robert Oppenheimer!!- ( or Tim Dalton for that matter).

 The weather was windy-again-and quite cold. The only one who didn’t seem to care was the one who had brought that enormous amount of people there: Robert Oppenheimer. Holding firmly his porkpie hat in his head, he stood still, waiting for the new member of the laboratory team to step out of the car.

Tim Womak.

The enigmatic man from the past.

He didn’t seem to care about the weather either-in fact, didn’t give a damn would be the most suitable expression. With just a button up and a pair of worn-out jeans to protect himself from  the harsh air, a bright smile on his face, and dry paint in his hands and temples, he passed security and followed Groves to his house. 

Robert was to meet him of course, welcome him to Los Alamos, but he found himself unable to lift his boots off of the mud. 

They would definitely meet at the gathering at Robert’s house. He would make amends for his terrible manners there.

A swift glance of a pair of brown-green eyes pulled him out of his thoughts. Tim waved with enthusiasm, carrying his enormous suitcase with ease.

Whatever terrible thing Groves had said in his absurd manner didn’t affect Timothy one bit.

    The party was glorious, expertly fitted to Oppenheimer’s reputation and style. Martinis were served, the fire was burning bright and warm, the food was spicy and the converstation never seemed to die out. Although, this time, he wasn’t the only one who had center stage. The new chemist was able to hold his ground in all topics Oppenheimer or anybody else introduced, poetry, music, science, religion. The only thing he stayed out of were politics, as his belief was long settled. He was not in any case going to start searching the world with a lantern for an honest man. There were none. Some people had called him a pessimist. Others, a cynical. Tim considered himself to be quite pragmatic actually.

“May I serve you another one”?Robert asked as he made himself a martini. All others had left, but Tim seemed to be willing to stay for a little while longer. 

“Oh, thank you Julius. I prefer my whiskey-Good god, some things remain the same, don’t they”?, Tim laughed as Robert shot him an annoyed gaze at the mention of his first name.

“Although I must say, you have made endless progress since I’d last seen you in Cambridge. Charming, charismatic… I am stunned”.

Robert scoffed as he sat on the couch next to the British. Cambridge was a black spot in his past, a place he didn’t fit in, a place nothing good came out of. He couldn’t fathom how Tim would remember anything of him-the other was older, much handsomer, excelled in theoretical and experimental level. An artist as much as a scientist, he would have girls walking on his side, reading his poems or admiring his sketches. 

He didn’t have the skinny built of Robert either, when he was tired too tired of the world he’d often find some of his various friends and relieve some tension on the pitch.

“Thank you”, Robert replied carefully. They’d had very few interactions in the University, but Robert always had this feeling of…uncertainty. His heart beat faster as if he couldn’t exactly tell where he stood with the man.

Tim observed him silently sipping his whiskey. His eyes were the deepest green, illuminated by the warmth of the fire’s light.

“20 years have passed and you still remain handsome as ever, you bastard”, Tim murmured with a soft smile. “How come you didn’t marry”?

“Never found the right one”, Robert answered, cheeks flushed. “ I am really glad we have you with us, Tim. Your contribution will be invaluable to the creation of the device".

"Bomb", Tim sighed. "It's a bomb, Julius. Stop romanticizing the world, it isn't going to change that way".

“Isn’t art the best way to romanticize the world?”, Robert asked sharply. “Poems, paintings…”.

“This is the only way to escape from the world, not change it”, Tim sighed deeply and poured himself another whiskey. He got up and started walking up and down the small living room, tormented by some inner turmoil. “Art… What good is art if you can’t bring yourself to confess what your soul screams”? My poems are blank, poems…written to be published, you know”? he asked sadly.

“I quite like them though”, Robert answered somewhat defensively. “I’ve read most of them, I think”.

His statement had a bigger impact on Tim than he had expected. He suddenly stilled, eyes piercing through Robert’s blue ones. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, fingers clutching his glass. He gulped down his whiskey and returned to the couch.

“I wrote another one, today…which I will never, ever, dare publish”, he muttered, handing Robert a wonky piece of paper. He held it carefully with his fingertips, bringing it close to his chest, so as if to feel it, rather than read it.

Tim was standing a few feet next to him, too nervous to stay seated.

In the crowded room I stood amazed,

As memories of youth in me ablaze.

A face from college days of long ago,

Julius, with his eyes as deep as sapphire’s glow.

Twenty years had passed, a lifetime it seemed,

Yet his presence remained as if I'd only dreamed.     

Piercing blue eyes, a lanky frame so slight,

My heart raced faster at the nostalgic sight.

Secretely, I’d harbored feelings, kept them concealed,

For love like ours, society had not yet revealed.

I watched from afar, my heart’s silent plea,

Hiding emotions in a world that couldn’t see.

The poem continued, but Robert was in no state to read more. His mouth suddenly full of saliva, he wiped a hand over his reddening face. All he had to do was breathe, he could do that, yes, he could…

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you like that. Don’t worry, I’m leaving”, Tim whispered, whishing the ground would swallow him up whole.

Robert let out a strangled noise of refusal, and Tim snapped his head back so fast his neck could break. His eyes took in the physicist’s form, from his tightly wound body, to his half-parted lips, to his eyes that finally revealed all he would not dare say. 

He approached him in slow, wary steps as if to not scare a wild cub.

The sound of the couch crouching beneath his weight was all that filled the room.

Robert was at a loss of words, Tim was observing him intensely and at the end he took the leap of faith.

He leaned in, only enough to press a feather-like kiss on Robert’s lips. He drew back and as the other hadn’t pulled away, he kissed him with a little more pressure-and oh, how his lips felt divine against his own. He inhaled Robert’s aroma, tobacco, and ink, and that distinct smell that was only ever his.

Tim’s hands came around Robert’s skinny shoulders, his tongue parting the other’s lips to lick into his mouth.

He felt Robert release a small whine and shivers ran down his body.

When they parted for air, Robert was only a little less than shocked.

There were so many things that would change. It was not acceptable-it was forbidden. It could end both men’s careers. Could they be kicked out of the Manhattan Project?

Tim thought of Grove’s reaction if he learned that his best physisist and chemist were fucking instead of working. That thought lent him the smile he needed.

“I understand if you simply don’t want to…If you’re not ready…”. He leaned in to kiss Robert’s neck. “Let me take care of you tonight. Only this night”.

After 30 years, he sent a silent thanks to the gods.

Robert let out a strangled whine, shut his eyes firmly, too scared to fully surrender to what was happening. Tim pulled back, still hesitant.

Robert took in his form: the messy hair, wet lips, the steady show of his pulse on the side of his neck.

It felt right. It felt like everything he’d ever wanted. And so, he took it.

The two men licked into each other’s mouths with passion, enjoying the warm wetness of their tongues. Robert placed both his hands on the sides of Tim’s face, trapped in his arms as if he were, perhaps, a woman. Tim growled when Robert tagged on his hair. 

“Do you want to take this to the bedroom”?, he asked with pleading eyes, and Robert had no option but to nod. 

Tim picked him up in his strong arms as if he weighed nothing-which was not that far from the truth-and without once breaking the kiss, he carried the physicist to the bed. He kicked the door close, and layed Robert on the bed.

His heart was beating stronger than ever, finally, oh, fucking finally…Robert Oppenheimer was his.

“I’ll take care of you”, he rasped out, beginning to undo the buttons of Robert’s shirt. He hovered over him, placing a wet kiss beneath his ear, nibbling on the soft skin. Robert moaned, and Tim moved to the side of his neck, leaving a hot trace of saliva along Robert’s skin. Robert writhed underneath him, struggling to grab his biceps, his back, anything he could to feel him close.

Once Tim got rid of that shirt, he focused on Robert’s chest. Leaving open-mouthed kissed from the column of his throat to the sternum, he smirked as Robert gasped and whined. He took one of his hard nipples in his mouth, licking and sucking on the sensitive bud, feeling Robert’s body tense with pleasure. 

He sucked on his nipple for a while, alternating between the scrape of teeth and the soft lapping of his tongue, while Robert lost complete control of himself. His breathing was laboured, ragged, and his straining cock pushed more and more hard against Tim’s stomach.

“Please…Tim please”, Robert uttered. 

Tim looked him deep in the eye. “You’ll have to tell me what you want”.

Robert let out a long whine. “Take me…take me into your mouth”.

Tim kissed his mouth hard, pushing him further on the bed. He quickly unbuttoned his trousers and threw them to the floor, along with Robert’s briefs.

“Fuck”, he muttered, seeing Robert’s long, hard cock leaking with precum.

“Please…”, Robert whined again, but Tim was determined to take his time. He’d been waiting for twenty years for this moment.

He left a trail of kisses and nibbles on Robert’s thigh, licking gently on his balls. He sucked one of it on his mouth while smearing the precum all over Robert’s tip. He licked at his slit, tasting the salty liquid, hearing Robert’s enchanting moans.

He took him in his mouth, sucking harshly, running his tongue along Robert’s shaft.

“Ah, yes…Yes. Fuck”, Robert breathed and Tim pushed himself to take all of his cock in his mouth. His nose touched Robert’s pubic hair, inhaling his scent, feeling the tip brush against his throat.

Robert thrusted his hips on reflex, and Tim pulled out once he heard him mutter a little ‘sorry’.

“Every part of myself I will give you”, he said. “Fuck my mouth Robert. Take your pleasure”.

He locked his long fingers with Robert’s hands as the latter attempted to do as he was told. The first thrusts were hesitant and swallow, but when Tim moaned around his cock, Robert let go of his worry. He grabbed Tim’s hair, keeping his head steady as he thrust into his mouth. The tip of his cock hit the back of Tim’s throat, and each time, Tim would purr with pleasure. Robert had turned into a loud, moaning mess.

“Yes, please, yes…yes, yes, yes”- His voice died out as his orgasm hit him hard. Stars danced in his closed eyes as his back arched, his cock pulsating, sending thick ropes of cum into Tim’s mouth.

He swallowed it all with a smile, kissing gently Robert’s stomach as he regained his breath. Tim licked Robert’s lips, their tongues dancing in a violent rhythm. Robert tasted himself on Tim’s lips, the saltiness of his cum, and he let out a moan.

“Turn around”, Tim whispered in his ear, and placed a couple of pillows beneath Robert’s stomach and crotch.

His ass was exposed to him, the flesh firm, the skin soft. He licked around Robert’s hole, his whole body tensing. Tim’s hands came to rub circles on his back, trying to soothe him.

“Don’t worry…I got you”, he muttered and began to plant kisses all over Robert’s cheeks. He bit and nibbled on the flesh, making sure he would leave marks on his way to Robert’s hole. He sucked gently on the skin around it, and then finally, he licked a long stripe over his hole. Robert cursed.

Robert had never been with a man before. Tim took all the time needed to prepare him for his unforgiving cock. He licked and lapped at his hole, pushing his tongue inside. Robert’s tight walls clenched around Tim’s tongue.

“More…I need more Tim please”, Robert said desperately, and Tim was quick to comfort him.

He smeared some lube over Rober’s ass as well as his fingers before he pushed his index inside of him. Robert groaned at the strong burning of his stretching skin.

“Relax baby. Try to relax for me”, Tim whispered and with his other hand he grasped Robert’s semi hard cock. 

“Fuck, you’re leaking again”, he observed and as he massaged the head, he pushed his finger to the knuckle inside Robert’s ass. He stretched him open, twisting and turning it as Robert moaned and whined to no end.

“My cock…I need-it’s not enough”, Robert gasped.

Tim gradually pushed in a second finger and started pumping them in and out of Robert’s ass. His cock hardened in his hand. Robert was clutching at the sheets, fighting to regulate his breathing before he came undone a second time. 

He took Tim’s third finger easily, his hips thrusting up and down at their own accord. 

“Are you gonna cum soon baby”?, Tim asked, bewitched by the sight of Robert unravelling in front of him. His walls clenched harshly around Tim’s fingers. Robert let out a whine.

“Good boy Julius, such a good fucking boy for me”, Tim praised as he fucked the cum out of Robert’s cock. With a final, strangled moan, Robert collapsed on the bed, limbs heavy with exhaustion. Every breath came with great effort, muffled as it was from the mattress.

Tim turned him around gently, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on that sharp cheekbone. 

"Are you okay"?, he asked and Robert let out a laugh in response. 

With admirable, new found energy he climbed on top of Tim, laying kisses over his bare skin. Robert's thigh brushed against Tim's cock and it made him yelp. 

"Robert, no".

"Yes", the smaller man smirked as he brushed his tongue against Tim's cock. He licked the precum running down Tim's thighs, all the way to the bed. Robert had already cum twice and Tim had yet to be properly touched.

"You'll guide me through it", he said in a low voice, taking Tim's cock into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over the tip, moaning at the taste of it.

"Stop", Tim breathed but that only made Robert push deeper.

"Stop, I mean it, I can't…".

Robert smirked against his cock as Tim moaned loudly. 

"You fucking- I told you to stop" Tim spat out. With a single, swift motion he dragged Robert underneath him again. Shutting his mouth with a harsh kiss.

"You don't get to disobey me", Tim smiled.

"I get to do everything I want".

"What is it that you want then Dr. Oppenheimer"?

"I need you to…".

"Use your words", Tim ordered as he palmed Robert's cock.

"Fuck me", Robert whined at last.

Tim was gentle. Patient, aware of the delicacy of the creature he held in his hands. He pushed his cock in Robert's hole inch by inch, letting him get used to it. While he suffocated Robert with kisses to distract him. 

   The physicist grabbed onto Tim's back for real life, relishing the feel of the weight of him, the strength of him. Both men moaned when Tim bottomed out inside of him.

"Move", he whispered.

Tim began rolling his hips, and Robert whined. The feeling of being full was divine almost, certainly too much for the physicist to bear. He pushed Tim strongly towards his body, and Tim at last picked up the pace. A loud curse left Robert's lips as Tim's cock brushed against his prostate.

"You're too tight", Tim groaned, snapping his hips harder and faster by the second. His balls slapped Robert's ass with every thrust, their united grunts feeling almost obscene.

Tim pushed his tongue in Robert's mouth while he jerked him off with his hand. The grunts turned to desperate pants and breathy moans. The kiss was all teeth, their lips were left bruised when they finished.

Tim's eyes locked into Robert's blue ones, seeing his love reflected back at him. 

Tim increased the pace.

Robert's hands were to leave claw marks and bruised on Tim's back.

Oppie whispered Tim's name as he came. His cum leaked down his stomach and Tim's hand. 

Robert made the mistake of gripping Tim's ass hard, pushing his legs against it, pushing Tim's desperate cock deeper in his ass.

With a sudden grunt Tim grabbed Robert and pulled him on his knees. 

He grabbed him by the throat. 

He started thrusting deep inside him at his most vigorous pace, and Robert was moaning, whining, crying of the overstimulation.

He turned his face to trap Tim's lips with his.

"Give me one more, Robert, cum with me" Tim managed to say in between his breaths.

Tim's hand came down to jerk at Robert's overstimulated cock. 

Robert closed his eyes, letting himself get carried away as he ruined the sheets with his cum. 

He was faintly aware of Tim's teeth biting on his shoulder as Tim came inside of him, Robert's walls milking his cock completely.

They collapsed on the bed, as good as dead, feeling their hearts beat on the top of their chests.

Even after all his hard work Tim was the first one to return to the real world. He reached for Robert's face, turned it towards him.

He looked…gone. Like he wasn't able to utter a word-tears were running down his cheeks.

Tim felt the stab of guilt in his chest.

He placed the softest of kisses on that delicate nose.

"Robert…My Julius. I'm sorry". He ran his fingers through his short hair. His voice was hoarse. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you".

Tim wiped the tears that leaked down Robert's jawline. He was almost too afraid to touch him with a heavier hand, but as he ran his fingers along Robert's cheekbones, his muscles relaxed. 

Robert smiled, his eyes coming back to life again. He brought Tim's face to his lips and then hovered on the bed until his body was pressed flush against Tim's.

Tim continued peppering his naked, sweaty skin with kisses.

"This was the most beautiful thing I've ever felt", Robert whispered. 

"Are you okay"? Tim asked again, concerned.

"It's burning", Robert asked in a low voice. "It's burning me alive…the memory of that feeling. 

Robert tilted his head for a sloppy kiss. He tasted blood on Tim's mouth and a smirk came on his lips. He ran his hands over Tim's strong biceps, his back, his toned stomach. He saw and felt him melt under the touch.

Such close actions of intimacy must have been very rare for him.

"Next time I'll make you feel better" he whispered, and Tim hugged him as tightly as he could without their bodies hurting.

"It was the best night of my entire night, Julius", he said very seriously, totally unimpressed by Robert's disgust to the name. "You remind me why I keep on living".

Robert smiled, closing his eyes. 

 "Stay for the night", he pleaded. " Every night".

After the longest of times, J Robert Oppenheimer slept with an easy heart and a tired body. Tim stayed awake  throughout the night, admiring the delicacy of his body, trying to memorise the even sound of his breath.

He cursed the sun that had to rise and put an end to this heavenly moment- because it was all of heaven Tim was ever going to taste.

"I love you", he whispered over Robert's shoulder, words he thought he'd never utter.

Perhaps he had imagined the answer he had gotten. 

"I love you Tim", the physicist repeated.

It was way too good to ever be dreamed of.

He left with the promise to return for the night, that night, and every night.