#robert oppenheimer x female reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lacontroller1991 · 1 year ago

Text

My Lips on Yours (J. Robert Oppenheimer x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

requested by @forgottenpeakywriter :can you write something where reader and oppie have been dating for a while and they share their first kiss

DISCLAIMER: This is clearly based off of Cillian Murphy's Oppenheimer. If this bothers you just scroll on.

Warnings: Language, kissing, drinking, smoking, slight mention of sex

Word Count: 1.3

----------

You can remember the day like it was yesterday. Robert had shown up to your house, bouquet of flowers in his hands and a formal invitation asking you out. You, of course, had instantly said no. Being close family friends with Lawrence gives you a certain insight on some individuals, including Robert Oppenheimer. Lawrence had explicitly told you ‘stay away from him,’ but it’s hard to avoid Oppenheimer when he’s everywhere you go.

Even though you told him no the first time he asked you out, it sure didn’t stop him. He showed up to your doorstep again, a new bouquet of flowers and had asked the same question ‘would you like to have dinner with me’, to which you again said no.

It took almost two weeks of him constantly asking you day by day for you to say yes, despite your friends all warning you.

By the time you started dating you had to admit to yourself, it was honestly not that bad. In fact, you and him went on another, and another, and another until almost three months have passed.

Despite having dated for a few months now there's still something that you and him haven’t done. You haven’t kissed each other. Don’t be mistaken, you and him have had sex. Lots of it. But you and Robert have not kissed each other on the lips and it’s honestly irritating.

Seeming to pick up on your annoyance, your colleague looks up at you from across the table in the library. “Something the matter?”

You turn your attention to your classmate and let out a huff. “Just annoyed.”

“About?”

You close your book and set it down onto the table. “It’s been over three months and we still haven’t kissed. It’s just been bothering me. Why hasn’t he kissed me? Did I do something wrong? Am I unappealing? Is he just using me? What am I doing wrong?” You place your head in your hands in frustration as your friend flicks their eyes above you to see a pair staring back before the person scurries away.

“You’re doing nothing wrong. Maybe he’s just not ready for that kind of commitment.” Your friend tries to soothe you but it’s a hard feat.

“That wouldn’t make sense though. We’ve done things. He kisses me everywhere except my face. It just makes me feel like he’s using me for my body and that he doesn’t really care for me.” Your friend nods in response, rubbing a soothing hand on your back.

“I’m sure he does. He’s just weird like that. You knew that when you started dating him.” The comment makes you laugh slightly as you wipe away a stray tear before opening your book back up.

“Lawrence did try to warn me.”

“That he did. Let’s get back to studying.”

----------

“Dr. Oppenheimer?” The sound of his name being called stirs Oppenheimer’s concentration from his desk of papers and causes him to look up to see Alvarez standing in the doorway, awkwardly shifting his weight.

“What is it Alvarez?”

“Can I tell you something that might be awkward?” Robert motions to the seat in front of his desk and takes a puff from his pipe, waiting for Alvarez to continue. “So I know you’re seeing (Y/N) but I feel like you should know that (Y/N) is getting frustrated that you guys haven’t… kissed.” Silence.

“Where did you hear this?”

“I overheard her telling this to her friend.” Robert pushes away from his desk and places the papers in his briefcase, exhaling a plume of smoke before snuffing out his pipe.

“Thank you, Alvarez, for letting me know. You can see yourself out.” Alvarez quickly nods and rushes away, cheeks flushed from the embarrassment of the topic at hand. The minute Alvarez gets out of sight Robert leans back into his chair, staring off to the distance. If you’re bothered by him not kissing you, he wonders what else you’re bothered with.

----------

Sharp knocks on the door disrupt you from your studying. Getting up from your seat you stride towards the door, swinging it open to reveal Robert on the other side, flowers in his hands. “Good evening darling.”

“Robert? I wasn’t aware that you’re coming. Do we have a date tonight?” He brushes past you and sets the flowers on your doorway stand before hanging up his coat and hat while you watch on in confusion.

“Do I need to have an appointment to see you?”

“Well, no, but I also wasn’t expecting you. If I’d known that you were coming I would’ve cooked something.” He waves his hand and steps further into your house towards the kitchen, instantly fixing himself and you a martini.

“Nonsense. I can make us something.” Now you’re really confused. You have never heard of Robert cooking. In fact, you’re not even sure if he knows how to, given the fact that he’s so thin. You’ve always just assumed that his diet is cigarettes, martinis, coffees and the occasional cookie that he would always steal from your lunch box or even Lawrence’s.

“Ok, Robert. What are you doing here?” He turns around and hands you the martini, a smile on his face as he takes your arm and guides you to the couch.

“I heard something and I want to run it by you.” His admission has your heart racing. What on earth could it be that he just had to show up to your house? Nodding your head for him to continue, his blue eyes pierce yours. “I heard that you expressed some discourse about the fact that we haven’t properly kissed.”

The comment made you spit out your drink. “What?”

“Alvarez overheard you telling your friend that you’re upset that we haven’t kissed properly, so I’m here to change that.” Why this arrogant bastard.

“You’re a jerk Robert,” you move to stand up but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back down, setting your drinks of the coffee table before taking your face in his hands.

“No, no. Hear me out.” You want to pull away but you also want to hear him out. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you, I just didn’t know when a good time would be or if you even wanted to.”

“Let me counter that point. Why wouldn’t I? We’ve been seeing each other for months now and we still haven’t done something so mundane.” He shakes his head, one thumb running over your cheek while the other hand pets your hair.

“I don’t want it to be mundane. I want it to be magical. With the… parameters… of our relationship I never knew when the good time was to kiss you, but now I know.”

“You could’ve always asked, you know?” He chuckles in response, his eyes staring into yours as your bodies move ever so closer together.

“Well (Y/N). May I kiss you?”

“No.” Your answer is a sharp slap to Robert’s face and he begins to pull away but your hands reach out to his face. “Of course you can, you silly idiot.” He smiles like an idiot before closing the gap between the two of you, your lips molding together like they were meant for each other. Your hands grab onto his blazer and hold him close as his tongue sweeps along your bottom lip asking for access. Opening your mouth, you let out a little whimper as he explores you. There’s now a tangible layer of intimacy between you and Robert now and it’s dizzying. You feel lightheaded, like you’re drunk. Maybe you’re drunk on him, but whatever it is, it is way better than you imagined.

The two of you remain in each other’s embrace for a minute before he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours as the two of you try to catch your breaths. “How was that?”

“That was… something else.” He chuckles, his thumb tracing your swollen parted lips. “Do it again.”

“Now that I know, I don’t intend to stop.”

#j robert oppenheimer #j Robert Oppenheimer x reader #robert oppenheimer #Robert Oppenheimer x reader #Robert Oppenheimer x you #Oppenheimer movie #oppenheimer x reader #oppenheimer x you #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #oppenheimer fanfiction #Ernest Lawrence #reader insert #female reader #first kiss trope #oppenheimer #lacontroller1991

153 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 1 year ago

Text

Chemical Reactions (P. 1)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity

Words: 1,867

Note: The fic is spoiler free and fantasy.

It was just before Christmas when you took up a scholarship at Berkley and, since you were young woman at the tender age of twenty-two, you still could not believe your luck.

You got in to one of the most sought-after courses in the US when it came to quantum physics, which was a field so new and progressive that, to many, its attributes appeared to be rather absurd whereas, to you, it was a way of understanding the world.

The class you had applied for was that of J Robert Oppenheimer who was a well-known physicist and whilst you had only ever read about his works in the academic papers at Harvard, you were eager to finally meet the man whose work impressed you so much.

Being female in the field of physics, however, came with a price. Your skills had often been disregarded because of your gender and being excluded from experiments was not unusual either. As such, you were cautious and kept your obvious excitement at bay as, no doubt, criticism was a concept that your fellow students knew just too well and, in your mind, it was always easy for others to criticise those who they did not yet know, i.e., the new and possibly only female student in their class.

***

On your first day, when you arrived to the impressive building, you realised that you were over twenty minutes early and this, too, was not surprising.

You were punctual most of the time and when you weaved your way through the building, you were surprised by how little time it took for you to find the lecture room, which, thankfully, was unlocked and had a few other students already inside.

You selected a seat one row from the front, in a spot that, to most professors, said "I am eager to learn” which you hoped was beneficial seeing that, at least for now, you were the only woman in the room.

“Would you be accepted by your peers?” you pondered, but your thoughts were quickly interrupted when, who you assumed to be your professor, entered the room.

He was a frail but attractive looking man, wearing a grey suit that was matched by a white shirt and a dark coloured tie. He was smoking cigarette and put his dark brown leather satchel on the table in front of him, rifling haphazardly through the mess of papers inside.

Against your will, you felt a displeased look settle onto your face. Is the professor's class going to be as disorganised as his abyss of a bag, you wondered? Were those other students' assignments in there, begging to be lost?

You smirked for a minute at the intrusion of your very own thoughts about Dr Oppenheimer before you instinctively pulled your cheek in between your teeth which just when more students began to fly in to the room.

“Oh look, someone must have gotten lost” one of them was quick to say with a grin as he had spotted you and your neatly laid out stationary.

“The biology classes are conducted down the hall, in the third room to the left” was what another one said, causing you to rise from your seat in order to speak up against this nonsense just before the professor himself did it for you.

“And what makes you presume that she is in the wrong room, Mr Handley?” Dr Oppenheimer asked almost sternly and his reaction most certainly surprised you as, until now, you did not think that he had even noticed you.

“She is a woman, sir” the man stammered somewhat reluctantly, causing the professor to furrow his eyebrows.

“And you presume that this prestigious establishment seeks to exclude women from studying in the field of physics?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked, causing you to grin silently. “That seems rather absurd, wouldn’t you agree?” he then went on to add, causing the young man to nod.

“Of course... I mean, of course not” the student stammered just before Dr Oppenheimer began to call roll which is something you did not even notice as you were too transfixed on his demure and the way he presented himself until, eventually, your hand shot up at the sound of your full name.

“Present” you said, feeling a blush coming to your cheeks as the class and Dr Oppenheimer looked at you, the latter's blue eyes lingering on you a bit longer than the others.

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, not sure of the intention behind it and then, suddenly, he spoke:

"Miss Y/LN, now tell us, what have they been up to at Harvard these days? This is where you have transferred from, correct?” the professor then asked just as his look towards you intensified even more. His deep blue eyes were seeing right through you and yet you managed to answer him confidently.

“Not much in so far as the physics department is concerned, Dr Oppenheimer. In the last year we experimented with nuclear fission, but I assume that, considering the current political climate, so has everyone else. We then looked at metaphysics, stars, the universe…” you explained before sharing some of your findings and conclusions which impressed not only Dr Oppenheimer but also some of the other students.

When listening to you talk, it became obvious to him that you were rather intelligent even at such a young age and your interest in science was one of great significance.

“None of this is new” one of the students then said nonetheless after you finished your explanations and outlined your conclusions, to which you responded rather sharply yourself.

“I didn’t claim that it was. I simply answered Dr Oppenheimer’s question” you pointed out and the professor was quick to take your side again.

“And I appreciate your thorough explanation Miss Y/LN. It helped me understand where you are at when it comes to the presumed knowledge for my class” Dr Oppenheimer went on to say and you knew that, whatever the true reasons were behind his questions, his intent was not as innocent as he made it out to be. He wanted to know whether the physics department in Harvard knew more than the physics department at Berkley which, luckily for him, was not the case.

The entire profession was well aware of the ‘program’ about to implemented by the US government and several physicists and educational departments began to protect their research with more earnest for a chance to cash in on the war.

But, Dr Oppenheimer did not appear to be one of those reserved physicists who were just in it for themselves. To the contrary, he really cared about making a difference and his research to date was well known within in the industry. He did not mind sharing his findings even if they were inconclusive and you have heard many stories about how he enjoyed working in the faculty as part of a group rather than on his own.

He was a leader but also a team player and, as such, when he wrapped up his questions for the day and announced the research project for the coming days, every student around him broke out into appreciative chatter as you remained in your seat, slightly dumbfounded, as the students were broken up into four groups.

---

“You worked in experimental before, have you not?” Dr Oppenheimer asked as, after a little while, he approached you and the group to which he had assigned you.

“I am pleased to know that you have read my file Dr Oppenheimer” you smiled after giving him a nod, which too is when you realised just how handsome he truly was. He must have been in his late thirties and seeing a wedding ring on this man’s finger came as a disappointment to you.

“I have read all of my students’ files” Dr Oppenheimer assured you just as you stood awkwardly at your table for a moment, debating whether or not to take the courage to ask him the millions of questions you had for him already until, suddenly, he prompted you to do exactly that.

"Did you have a question for me?" Dr Oppenheimer asked innocently as if he could have read your mind.

“Uhm…” you paused while cursing yourself already for having started your sentence with that godforsaken 'uhm' which, in your opinion, made you sound like an idiot.

"Yes, actually. I was wondering if, with this formula, you have considered the possibility…” you began to question, seeing how he had arrived at the calculations already presented to you and, just as you spoke with such great determination, you trailed off a bit as his gaze intensified.

“Quite frankly, you lost me there, at the end of your calculations but that is not to say that you are wrong” Dr Oppenheimer said almost politely as you looked at him somewhat flustered, causing your fellow students to chuckle and whisper behind your back.

“I must have lost my own train of thought just then. I am sorry sir” you said with blushing red cheeks as all of your confidence flew out of the window and you suddenly became aware of the way he was standing, with his hands against his hips, and the way he looked all together.

“Don’t be sorry Miss Y/LN. In fact, I am interested in exploring that idea of yours further, perhaps even after today’s lessons if you have time” Dr Oppenheimer then said as he adjusted the way he stood and smiled.

“That would be my pleasure, sir” you responded as you watched him spread his arms out on the table in front of you, far past shoulder width. He was leaning on his hands, causing the veins on his forearms to bulge slightly, which were exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his white button-down shirt. He had his head tilted down a bit to look at you with those deep blue eyes until, eventually, he snapped out of his very own and somewhat intrusive thoughts which were thoughts you knew had nothing to do with quantum mechanics whatsoever.

Dr Oppenheimer then licked his lips lightly before speaking again, distracting you from the first few syllables of his sentence.

"Good, then please come and see when you finish for the day, Miss Y/LN. I will be right here, trying to figure out what you were on about” Dr Oppenheimer then said just as the bell began to ring and the students started to pack up their bags, seeing that most of them had experimental workshops to attend to in the afternoon which, of course, included you. You too had a workshop, which was one you did not look forward to.

“Yes doctor. I will see you this afternoon” you told him with a reluctant smile as you pulled your lab coat closer to your chest and forced your face to remain neutral, even as you felt the heat burning up your neck. You then gave him a curt "thank you" before lifting your chin and turning to leave.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

Tag List

@fastfan

@elenavampire21

@dolllol2405

@allie131313

@cilliansangel

@coldbastille

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@cdej6

@kathrinemelissa

@landlockedmermaid77

@crazymar15

@damedomino

@lauren-raines-x

@miss-bunny19

@skinny-bitch-juice

@odorinana

@cloudofdisney

@weepingstudentfishhorse

@allexiiisss

@geminiwolves

@letsstarsfalling

@ysmmsy

@chlorrox

@tommyshelbypb

@chocolatehalo

@music-lover911

@desperate-and-broken

@mysticaldeanvoidhorse

@peaky-cillian

@lelestrangerandunusualdeetz

@december16-1991

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

@romanogersendgame

@randomfangirl2718

@missymurphy1985

@peakyscillian

@lilymurphy03

@deefigs

@theflamecrystal

@livinginfantaxy

@rosey1981

@hanster1998

@fairypitou

@zozeebo

@kasaikawa

@littleweirdoalien

@sad-huffle-nerd

@theflamecrystal

@0ghostwriter0

@stylescanbeatmyback

@1-800-peakyblinders

@datewithgianni

@momoneymolife

@mcntsee

@janelongxox

@basiclassy

@being-worthy

@chaotic-bean-of-smolness

@margoo0

@vhscillian

@crazymar15

@im-constantly-fangirling

@namelesslosers

@littlewhiterose

@ttzamara

@cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon

@dolllol2405

@pkab

@babaohhhriley

@littleweirdoalien

@alreadybroken-ts

@masteroperator

@stevie75

@shabzy96

@rainbow12346

@obsessedwithfandomsx

@geeksareunique

@laysalespoir

@paigem00

@lkarls

@vamp-army

@luckystarme

@myjumper

@gxorg

@eline-1806

@goldenharrysworld

@cristinagronk16

@stylesofloki

@faatxma

@slut-for-matt-murdock

@tpwkstiles

@myjumper

@cloudofdisney

@look-at-the-soul

@smellyzcat

@kittycatcait219

@theliterarybeldam

@being-worthy

@layazul

@lyn07

@kagilmore

@50svibes

@mainstreetlilly

@ourthatgirlabby

@bitchwhytho

@takethee

@registerednursejackie

@sofi128

@mrkdvidal1989

@minxsblog

@heidimoreton

@laylasbunbunny

@queenshelby

@camilleholland89

@forgottenpeakywriter

@vintagecherryt

@indierockgirrl

@mrkdvidal1989

@bluesongbird

@dudde-44

@gasolinesavages

@kissforvoid

@bluebird592

@1eugenia1isabella1

@esposadomdp

@lulunalua23

@lovelace42

@bookklover23

@iwantmyredvelvetcupcake

@moonmaiden1996

@marlenamallowan

@cyphah (cannot tag)

@majesticcmey

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@throughgoeshamilton

@alessioayla

@elenavampire21

@justforfiction

@cilliansangel

@alannielaraye

@satellitelh

@pandoramyst

@duckybird101

@snixx2088

@kylianswag

@alessioayla

@pono-pura-vida

@iraisbored69

@howling-wolf97

@aesthetic0cherryblossom

@weirdo-rules

@lovemissyhoneybee

@dazaiscum

@esposadomd

@etherealkistar

@ur--mommy

@throughgoeshamilton

@celverzonkwombatsludge

@cyphah

@atomicsouldcollecto

@heidimoreton

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #Oppenheimer #oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer x reader #robert oppenheimer

2K notes · View notes

zaraquinn · 1 year ago

Text

i wish you love.

chapter i | from the start.

—————

summary: you and Robert’s relationship is strictly professional—working as his assistant and all, your relationship can’t get any farther than that. But you never expected your boss, Robert Fischer to be there for you at your absolute lowest; and now this relationship is as impossible as it gets.

—————

tw: mentions of domestic abuse, manipulation and a toxic relationship

word count: 2.2k

female!reader x robert fischer (inception)

requested by: my dumbass

author’s notes and additional notes: because i recently watched oppenheimer when it premiered and since then, cillian murphy has a chokehold on me that proceeded with me watching the batman trilogy and inception just for him (screaming, crying, moaning). Also, seeing and reading everything i can find that has robert fischer on tumblr, they all inspired me to write something for him too! So, for the first time in a while, i’m back to writing/posting something here and making a story that does not include following the plot of a movie (i realize i tend to do that a lot—which halters me to write in general because i have to follow the movie/tv show. Exhibit A is my wattpad lmao). This is also somewhat of a slow burn, so whoever isn’t interested in that, you probably wanna skip this one. Anyway, hope y’all enjoy this

masterlist !

series masterpost: coming soon !

——————

Your metal water bottle reached the floor with a loud thud, while water splashed out of it, making its way into the cracks of the floorboards. You stopped suddenly at the sight before you, and your body froze. Every inch of you went cold and your heart felt like it was torn to shreds right in your chest at the very sight. Tears flooded your vision in an instant and free fell onto your cheeks.

The tight grasp on the front doorknob on one hand was the only thing keeping you afloat. And with one smooth motion, all sounds and voices around you muffled as you turned around and shut the door as quickly as you opened it. Slumping onto your front porch, your gaze found itself stuck onto the floor and your shoes. The rain downpoured onto you mercilessly, but you couldn't care less. Quickly tucking your legs to your chest, the cold rain mixed with your warm tears and you sobbed.

That was until a familiar voice broke through the muffled world around you and you lifted your head from your chest—seeing him.

———

Three subtle knocks broke Robert out of his concentration. The papers were soon turning into a big blob of printed ink and he was secretly glad that he was interrupted before going on much longer. And with those three subtle knocks, he knew who it was to always rescue him from his thoughts.

It was you, his personal assistant, Y/N L/N. you worked for the million-dollar company for a few years now and worked your way up from secretary assistant to now the highest position in your field—as Robert Fischer’s personal assistant. Your skills were very impressive, even for someone as young as your age who can juggle dates, organize events and handle tasks; even when things piled up and got overwhelming. It was show-stopping really, as your skills made your role almost to the highest position. Robert was beyond impressed, and with countless late nights spent in his office working on endless papers and contracts, he was glad to have someone like you by his side.

Since you started working for Robert, he has been pining on you since you started but he knew it would be near-impossible and also very unprofessional. With his father and the company taking over every part of his life, he wished just once that someone up in the clouds could throw him a bone and not have Fischer-Morrow take whatever personal happiness he had left. Of course, that was never an option, so he opted to keep everything strictly professional and hidden. But those late nights of sneaking glances at the way your brows furrowed in concentration while reading, or the way you twirled the pen between your fingers while reading documents, or the way your lashes perfectly framed your beautiful eyes, Robert took what he got. Even if it was just spending time with you while his heart yearned for more.

“Come in.” He said softly, leaning back into his leather chair as you stepped in ever so gracefully. My god, did he think you were beautiful. “Mr. Fischer, I brought these for you.” You said leaning over and handing Robert a folder with important documents. Your voice was music to his ears and you were the only thing that could make him smile on these long days at work. A small smile brushed his lips as he took the folder from you. “Thank you, Y/N.” you returned with a grateful smile as you returned to your calendar in your hands. “Also, please don’t forget your meeting with your uncle in an hour. He wants to discuss the future of the company but has been booked up until the evening. So you only have an hour with him, unfortunately.”

Your eyes were downcast at the mention of his father and Robert’s smile dropped. Every mention of “the future of the company” really meant what happens after his father’s passing. He looked back up at you and gave a sad smile. “Thank you for reminding me, Y/N.” You gave another polite nod before turning around to exit. “Wait.” You turned around at Robert’s voice and looked at him with wide doe eyes. “Yes, Mr. Fischer?” Robert felt a small brush of heat dust his cheeks as he looked over at you. “Will you be there?” He swallowed; his voice now a softer tone than when you came in. “No.” You said and Robert could feel his embarrassment rise. “But I can be.” You offered with a reassuring smile to your boss. His shoulders dropped and he let out a small chuckle and sigh to release any worries he had in that very moment. “Thank you.” “Of course.” And with that, you turned around and exited his office.

There was always an unspoken friendship between the two of you. It was always kept clean and professional, but nowadays after the countdown started for his father, you realized just how much he needed you. Not only were you his personal assistant, but his friend. A real friend and a real connection he had both inside and outside of work. Not everything was about work, and hell, you both knew a fair bit of each other beyond Fischer-Morrow. Staying late with him in his office completing countless documents, agreements and booking meetings slipped through pockets of Robert’s personal life. Mostly during coffee breaks. You learned about him and how he grew up as the countdown continued.

You could tell that he leaned on you for support through these hard times. You knew the way the way his hands fidgeted when he was anxious or nervous during a meeting, or when his jaw clenched when people mentioned his father’s health state. You knew that look and the bob of his adam’s apple when he was in deep thought and could do nothing but swallow his worry. Every small detail about his habits you caught on and it comforted him to know that he has someone like you looking out for him, while in the workforce, he was looking after everything else.

Truth be told, you were glad that Robert was those bosses with humanity and feeling left in them. He treated you like a friend, not a subordinate below him and often showed you kindness and compassion through his professional facade. Although you don’t disclose many details, he also took note of things you liked and didn’t, and even made a promise to always make up your over-time at the company with him. Either by getting a coffee and snack for you the next morning or paying for you during lunch while out with another man for another boring meeting. It was the least he could do.

Along with your friendship with him, you started to yearn for another life—another life with him in it, and you can feel yourself starting to develop feelings for him. But you pushed it away because of how unprofessional it is, and your home life.

Work and seeing Robert was your only escape from paradise from a rather upsetting personal life. As the home you came back to wasn’t a home at all. It was a persistent struggle with a man you know who is starting to no longer love you. You have your suspicions, but it was a turbulent relationship that made you question whether he even loved you or not. Night after night you were met with something empty, or angry, or a switch of a teasing nobody. It was pathetic really. You knew it was a situation that could turn ugly real bad after a few glasses that shattered to the wall behind you, and you were ready in a fleeting moment to run off to a hotel for a few nights while you find another house for yourself.

That’s why you chose to spend your nights late at the company, with someone who doesn’t—no; who would never treat you the same as he did. You chose to spend your late nights escaping from your home with Robert, and you were so thankful.

———

The meeting with Robert and Peter finally came by, and you accompanied Robert as you both headed to the restaurant that Peter had chosen. Robert opened the car door for you and you nodded as you slipped in, Robert following closely behind.

Shutting the car behind him, the drive began. Opening your organizer, the ride had gotten a bit bumpy, considering the endless construction in the city, a few loose papers and notes had fallen on the floor of the car. They scattered to even Robert’s side of the car and he immediately helped you pick up the loose notes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Fischer.” You swiftly repeated. He was able to collect most of the notes quicker than you did as you shoved your organizer to the empty seat between the two of you. As you were about the reach for the last loose note, Robert’s fingers took it in his own. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay.” He softly said, sitting upright on the seat and handing the note to you. His hands brushed against yours and he quickly noticed the slight purple bruising on your hands and knuckles. His face turned to worry as he reached for your hand with a gentle touch. A flash of a fight with your boyfriend a few nights back reminded you of your bruised knuckles as you quickly took the note from his hands; giving him an apologetic smile and retreating your hands behind your organizer.

“Thank you, Mr. Fischer.” You took the rest of the notes collected on your lap and organized them accordingly. “Is everything alright at home Y/N?” The car was coming to a slow stop and they were slowly pulling into the entrance of the restaurant. You looked down and gathered the notes back where they once were and cleared your throat. Looking up at Robert, you gave a small, but false smile in his direction. “Yeah. Everything is fine.” You looked down at your lap once more, avoiding his concerned gaze. His eyes linger on you a little bit longer, his hand slowly reaching your wrist once more. The valet opened the door on Robert’s side, greeting the both of you and stepping aside for the both of you to get out of the car.

You followed Robert as he walked into the restaurant. But instead of walking behind him like you usually do, he lightly guides you with his hand ghosting your waist beside him. His hands make it back to his sides and he flashes you a small comforting smile as you both are led by the waitress to Peter on the rooftop area of the restaurant.

Peter puts down his glass and papers on the table after he sees his godchild at the doorway and smiles at their arrival. Robert looks at you for a swift moment, for some semblance of comfort and you return one, just as he has done so for you in the car.

The two of you approached Peter as he shook your hand first, before putting a comforting hand on his godchild’s shoulder as he led him down to his seat. Robert takes a glance behind him, checking on your presence as you take a seat behind him. Whether it was for himself or your sake, it was needed for the both of you.

—

The meeting had gone on as expected. The two men talk about the what are the next steps for the company, and although hard for Robert, he continues; seemingly empty or uninterested in it all. You notice this immediately, as the notes you write down quickly are all from Peter than your boss himself. You look up to see the two now get into a deeper conversation, and it's not about the business anymore.

“The clock is ticking Robert. We have to think of the future now.” “I know Uncle Peter, but—” Peter puts a hand on Robert’s shoulders. “I know it’s hard son, believe me, I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But this is what we have to do.” Robert looks up at him once then back down to the documents in front of him on the table. He lets out a defeated sigh and sits back in his chair. “Alright.”

———

The night had rolled around and everyone slowly had retired for the day and you had finished your tasks. Rising from your chair, you packed all your things and turned off your desk lamp, walking towards the elevator of the large building.

The elevator opens and you walk inside, about to press the ground floor when you instinctively stop and glance at the fifth floor, where Robert’s office was. Thinking he probably left, it wouldn’t hurt to check just in case, right? Quickly glancing at your watch, you decided it would only take a few minutes, and let your finger press the delicate button. It lights up, and you ascend.

The doors let you go with a ding and they close. Stepping onto the main waiting area, you walked through the floor; through the waiting and meeting rooms and to a hall—the path led by shiny wooden floors. You make your way to the end of the hallway to the door of Robert’s office. His name is in bold, black letters embossed on a golden plaque.

You take a breath and lean closer to the door, the three soft knocks that announce your presence.

———

hope you guys love the first instalment! if you wish to be added to a taglist (i might be starting) please let me know in the comments! :3

———

! masterlist !

! series masterpost !

#zarawrites #cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x you #cillian x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian fluff #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy x y/n #inception #robert fischer #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer imagine #i wish you love: the series

228 notes · View notes

infinitegalahad · 1 year ago

Text

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.

#carrie writes #cillian murphy #oppenheimer #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #oppenheimer x reader #robert j oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer #robert j oppenheimer x reader #j Robert oppenheimer x reader

234 notes · View notes

weirdworldofwinnie · 1 year ago

Text

Welcome ~

I'm Winnie and this is my main blog where all my original posts and reblogs will be; you'll find a bit of everything here (I love art, photography, astronomy, nature, animals, funny memes, music, movies, romance, etc.) but I mostly have specific fandom/character/actor content more on sideblogs. When I hyperfixate on a media, it tends to consume me so be forewarned lol. Last year was my Cillian Murphy era and now I've moved on more into musical theater.

Sideblogs (inactive):

Stranger Things @ Hey Kiddo (tumblr.com)

Cillian Murphy @ Cilly-Oppie (tumblr.com)

*2023 Fanfiction Masterlist*

Requests Closed

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x reader:

Heat of the Moment - One Night Passion

A Darling Distraction

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire (ongoing series currently discontinued)

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Dr. Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow x reader (Batman)

Face Me (oneshot)

Jonathan Breech x reader (On the Edge, 2001)

A Safe Way Out (oneshot)

*Important Note: All of my fics are strictly intended for 18+ (minors do not interact) and female readers only because that's what I'm most familiar with! I also try to keep the fem!reader character as general in physical description as possible; I will never specify a certain skin color or body type (unless it's absolutely crucial to the story) because I do not want to exclude anyone and I want you to imagine yourself as much as possible! I will possibly branch out in the future and include more gender reader besides cis fem, I just don't want to get it inaccurate and misrepresent someone. And lastly, my fics are not completely historically accurate or 100% reflective of any real people (including actors), living or dead. For entertainment purposes only*

I also won't write about Cillian personally as himself out of respect for his privacy and family

Thank you for stopping by and reading! 😊

#blog update #pinned post #pinned info #tumblr intro #welcome post #personal #meet the blogger #new tumblr #introduction #stranger things #cillian murphy #side blogs #masterlist #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #fanfiction #my writing #don't like don't interact #don't like don't read

42 notes · View notes

lacontroller1991 · 8 months ago

Text

Celebration (Ernest Lawrence x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

Requested by Anon: Ernest Lawrence x Wife!Reader "Honey I'm home!"

Author's note: SO I PASSED ALL OF MY CLASSES THIS SEMESTER WITH TWO Cs 1 B AND 3 As AND I JUST HAD TO CELEBRATE AND GET ACADEMIC VALIDATION FROM MY HUBBY SO HERE WE ARE

Also based on Movie!Lawrence and has no correlation with IRL EOL, the classes I listed I just found on Berkeley's course catalog.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 702

----------

The room is still aside from your constant pacing. He said he’d be home by 5 at the latest. Looking down at your watch, you frown when you read the time. 5:48pm. You normally don’t care if he comes home late, after all it’s a common occurrence for Ernest to come home later than he initially said. Ernest wouldn’t be Ernest if he didn’t have the ability to keep time. Still, the envelope on the table keeps your teeth pulling on your lip and your fingers picking at your nails. Exam season is over. The results are on the table. The results that will dictate whether you pass to the next class or if you’re stuck retaking it.

The class that causes most of your worries is quantum mechanics taught by none other than J. Robert Oppenheimer. Ernest had assured you ‘oh you’ll be fine, Oppie is a good teacher’ and ‘just go ask for help’, and you have, on several occasions. Oppenheimer has always been more than generous in lending you a hand, helping you with the concepts to better understand the course as a whole, but still, Oppenheimer’s “Intermediate Quantum Mechanics” is a class that 85% of people take a second time. Regardless of what you made in the class, all you could really do is try, a fact that Ernest has stated multiple times when all you needed was comfort.

“Honey! I’m home!” Ernest announces, walking into the kitchen, setting his briefcase down on the table with his keys, a soft smile on his face. Pulling you into his arms, he holds you close to his chest, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as you let out a sigh of relief, sinking in his grasp. “Is that it on the table?” Nestling further into his chest, you nod your head, relishing the way his heart beats against his clothed chest. “Well, let’s not waste anymore time!” He pulls away, picking up the envelope and beginning to tear it open but you stop his movements.

“I’m scared,” you offer meekly, almost embarrassed, especially if you failed. Shaking his head, he smirks, a surprising level of calmness and assurance that you didn’t fail. Maybe he already knows? Maybe he begged Oppie to allow you to pass? Either case, he’s more optimistic than you thought he would be. Letting out a sigh, you take the envelope from his hands and carefully tear away at the envelope, revealing a neatly folded piece of paper. Feeling the weight of Ernest’s hand lightly rubbing your pack, you open the paper, heart hammering in your chest as your eyes move over the page, immediately going to that one class. Your stomach drops. How is that possible?

“Well?”

“A. I made an A in Oppie’s class!” Letting out a shout of happiness, you turn around and jump into Ernest’s arms while he laughs, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“I knew you could do it. Oppenheimer told me that you made an A and offered his congratulations. You and two other students made an A.” Setting you down, he looks back to the paper still in your hand. “What else did you make?”

“Uh- B in Special Relativity, A in General Music, and an A in particle physics - thanks to you.” Setting the paper down, you swing your arms around his wide shoulders, dragging him down into your grasp. “Oh I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you Ernie.”

“I was only supportive, you did all that yourself. I’m proud of you,” the words take you aback for a second as you burn them in your brain. He’s told you several times before that he’s proud of you, but it always helps hearing them again. Looking down at his watch, he lets out a low whistle as your stomach grumbles. “Well, how about we go down to that Italian spot on seventh and celebrate? Does that sound good?”

Placing the paper down on the table, you grab your purse and place a kiss on his cheek. “Sounds great honey. I’m driving though.” Raising his hands in surrender, he dangles the keys from his fingers before you take them into your hands.

“Be my guest.”

#ernest lawrence #reader insert #Ernest Lawrence x reader #Ernest Lawrence x you #Ernest orlando lawrence #josh hartnett #female reader #anon request #oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer #robert oppenheimer #oppenheimer movie #ugh back on my Ernest bullshit #when am I not

55 notes · View notes

lacontroller1991 · 9 months ago

Text

Just Another Sunday (Ernest Lawrence x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

Author's Note: This started as a dream and was intending to be a very smutty fic, but It took a turn and now it's pure angst so beware

WARNING: 18+ HEAVY MENTION OF MISCARRIAGE (PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE Do NOT read if this subject is emotional/personal) , loss of child, feelings of isolation, Ernest is kind of a dick in this fr fr, lots of emotions, lots of petty arguing, passive aggressive-ness, nausea, drinking, smoking, language

Word Count: 2.4k

Author's Note 2.0: This is Josh Hartnett's version <3

----------

Sundays at the Oppenheimers. It’s become a weekly thing for you and Ernest to go over to his friend’s house for a brunch, especially since it’s hit spring and the trees are blooming. Today is no different. Except for the fact that you and Ernest are fighting.

The car rolls to a stop and Ernest shuts off the engine, the inside falling deadly silent as you grip the bottle of wine and stare out the window. It’s rare that you and him fight. Ernest is mild tempered and you’re easy going, but when he gets on to something, it's either his way or the highway, and he will push for what he wants. But this time, you can’t give him what he wants.

He lets out a sigh, unbuckling his lap belt before looking at you but you ignore him, “let’s try to be pleasant,” he opens the door and steps out, rounding the car before opening your door. Looking up at him through your lashes, you give in, stepping out carefully before he shuts the door. The two of you walk side by side, hands glued to your bodies as you near the door. You can do this, just avoid talking about children.

The door opens, revealing Kitty with a martini in her hand. “You guys are late.” Ernest shrugs his shoulders, stepping inside and kneeling down to swoop up Toni into his arms as the toddler giggles.

“Sorry, someone couldn’t pick out an outfit,” he comments, using one hand to tickle the toddler as you step inside the house, setting the wine on the stand.

“Yes, sorry, I had to help him pick out something to wear.”

Your dry response causes Ernest to whip his head towards you, eyebrow raised but he shakes it off, turning his attention back to the child in his arms. “I had to choose something to impress my favorite girl,” he strokes Toni’s hair who smiles and reaches to play with his glasses while Kitty raises an eyebrow in amusement at the obvious tension.

“Well, you can have her. I need a break.” Kitty offers you the rest of her drink and you down it immediately before Ernest can see. “Rob’s in the kitchen.” Ernest nods, walking off with Toni and leaving you alone with Kitty. “What the hell is that about?”

Rolling your eyes, you take out a cigarette and pass one to Kitty before lighting both of yours. Kitty and you have an interesting relationship. You aren’t close friends per say, but you understand each other more than other women do and she’s the only one currently in your corner. “Ernest is on his campaign about having kids again. He doesn’t seem to believe that I can’t and he won’t take no for an answer.”

“Lost another one?” She asks softly, huffing her cigarette as you hang your head.

“Number 4.” Kitty’s eyes fill with pity but you shake your head in denial. “He doesn’t know. You know how he is. He’ll beat himself up and it won’t be good for either of us so it’s better that he doesn’t know, for now at least. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ernest to death and I want nothing more than to have a child with him, but I can’t. They never seem to stick,” Kitty pulls you into a hug and you hug back, glad to get it off your chest. You don’t know why you keep losing the pregnancy. You find out you’re pregnant and you want to tell Ernest, but when you get around to it, the child is already gone. It makes you feel awful and you can’t imagine what Ernest would say if he found out. Pulling away from you, Kitty rubs your arms in comfort and gestures her head toward the glass door.

“Why don’t we go outside?” You nod your head as she leads you through the doors to the patio where the table is already set. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll grab two more martinis.” She rushes away as you look out from the porch. The trees provide some shade as they lightly move with the breeze, occasionally letting sunlight seep through the new leaves while Berkeley lays underneath.

Sighing, you close your eyes for a moment, letting the smell of linen invade your senses. It’s moments like these where you don’t mind California.

“Berkeley sure is a pretty sight,” Robert comments from beside you, startling you as you jump with a yelp while he laughs, two drinks in hand. Once you calm down, he slides one over to you. “Ernest sure does seem wound up.”

“He is.” Robert wants to comment, but instead he tries to silently urge you along. Giving in, you take the drink from him and take a sip before turning to him. “He wants children, but I’m having issues and he’s just been a huge jerk about it,” you reply, taking another sip as you watch him play with Toni and Peter on the floor, the older child tackling the professor to the floor while the dog wags his tail, wanting to join in. “He’s being passive aggressive about it. Like look at him.” Robert turns to look at your husband, tossing Peter up in the air and catching him with ease. “When has he ever done that?”

“You have a point. Does he know about your issues?”

“Partially. He knows some of the issues but not all.” Letting out a sigh of frustration, you take another sip of the martini and scrunch your face. “Why do you make these so strong?” Oppenheimer almost responds but Kitty walks through the doors with trays of food.

“Ernest, lunch.” Hearing his name being called, he gets off the floor and straightens himself out before walking out the door, a smile on his face as he sits across from you.

“Shall we eat?”

----------

The lunch goes by relatively quickly as the food disappears from their plates. Ernest and Robert talk about physics and Kitty pretends to be interested while you poke your food, your sense of appetite being lower than normal. Letting out a soft sigh, you set down your fork causing Kitty to look at you, eyeing your plate of food.

“Did you not like something?” This gains Ernest’s and Robert’s attention as they turn to you to spot that your plate of food is still relatively full.

“Oh it was good as always, I guess I’m just not as hungry as I thought I was,” it’s partially true. You definitely put in more than you thought you could eat, but at the same time the bouts of occasional nausea didn’t make it appealing.

“Y’know, you haven’t been eating much lately. Are you feeling alright? Is your stomach okay?” You know what Ernest is really asking. Could you be pregnant? The answer is never what he wants.

“I’m fine. Just not hungry,” you smile behind your lie and you can tell he doesn’t buy it.

Sensing the tension, Kitty stand up and grabs some plates. “Right, well we can pack you up some to take home. I need to feed the kiddos though,” at the mention of kids, Ernest hops up and takes the plates from Kitty.

“No need, I can do that. Gotta learn somehow for when we have kids.” He smiles as if he’s being friendly but he’s not. He’s being passive aggressive and you know it.

“Ernest.” It's terse and it causes Kitty to back away from the two of you and hover near Robert. The two share a glance in concern as they watch the scene unfold.

“What?”

“You know what.” Setting down the plates, Ernest turns to you, placing his hands on his hips.

“When we have children, and we will, we need to know how to feed them.”

“We will cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Then hurry up so we can cross it. Let’s have a kid.” Your heart is hammering in your chest and the outside is quiet, not even birds are chirping. The silence is so deafening that you could hear a pen dropping from a mile away. Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes in frustration and embarrassment. This is not a conversation that needs to be in front of your friends. Abruptly standing up, you toss the napkin onto the table and brush past him into the house, making a beeline for the guest bedroom and shutting the door, collapsing onto the bed as sobs wrack your body.

Grabbing the plates, Kitty stops in front of Ernest with a hint of anger in her eyes. “You can be an ass Lawrence.” The words stun Ernest as he stands on the patio. Robert walks up to him and pats him on the shoulder, causing the taller man to look down at the theoretician.

“Go to her, but don’t talk. Listen. Let her talk.” Robert walks away and lights his pipe leaving Ernest alone. What has gotten into her?

Following where you went, Ernest stops in front of the door before hesitantly knocking it and stepping inside, not giving you time to protest. “Honey?”

“Go away.” His heart melts at seeing you curled in on yourself, your head laying on a pillow as tears stream down your face. Sighing, he sits on the edge of the bed by your legs and lays a hand on your thigh, but you make no movement to remove it. If anything, it’s the most comfort you’ve felt from him.

“What’s going on? Why are you behaving like this?”

“Ernest, what do you not get? I can’t have children.”

“Sure you can.” You would throw a pillow at him due to his naiveness but you decide against it.

“No. I can’t,” he begins to open his mouth but you quickly cover it with your hand. Closing his mouth, you remove your hand and run it through your hair. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. I’ve been pregnant, and I’m not infertile.”

“What?” He waits for a punchline, but the silence says everything and he’s trying to keep his anger in check. How long have you been lying to him? Why have you not told him you’ve been pregnant? Closing his eyes, he lets out a deep focused breath as his fists clench, not bothering to look at you. “Then what the hell has been the issue? Why are we not having children? Are you pregnant right now? We have been trying for months, almost a year now. Why do we not have any?” A lump in your throat forms as a wave of nausea takes over.

“They’re not catching.” Your voice is soft as you sniffle, clutching your stomach protectively as he furrows his brows in confusion, turning to you.

“What do you mean they’re not catching?”

“I keep losing them.” Ernest’s heart drops and he feels like a piece of shit. He’s been treating you like shit for not giving him a child but you’ve been trying. How could he not have known? Why have you never told him? What do you mean by ‘them’?

Swallowing back bile in his throat, he stands up and paces the room, one hand on his hip and one in his hair, messing up his neatly parted blonde locks. “How many?”

“Four.”

“Shit.” He paces while he thinks. What on Earth would have caused you to lose four children? Why didn’t you tell him? How could you be doing this all alone? How must you be feeling? The thought of you suffering by yourself for all that wrenches Ernest’s heart. He can’t imagine you going through that alone and it hurts him more than not having a child that you couldn’t go to him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve been so busy lately and I don’t want it to interfere with your work.” You sniffle in response, wiping your eyes as his softens. Walking around the bed, he lays on top and pulls you into his arms, letting your head rest against his chest.

“Oh baby, I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that all alone.” He presses a soft kiss against the crown of your head while you clutch onto his clothes, tears slipping out of your eyes.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to disrupt your work.” He shakes his head in response.

“You’re more important to me than my research. My work would have waited. I should’ve been there for you.” He holds you close for what felt like forever, still trying to wrap his mind around the whole situation. “What do you think has been causing the losses?”

“I talked to John because I had a sneaking suspicion of what was causing it and according to him doses of radiation can contribute to miscarriages.” If his heart wasn’t in his stomach before, it sure is now.

“You’re done working in the lab.”

“Bu-”

“No buts. If it’s putting you in danger, I will not allow it. You can still help me with research but you will not go near the lab. If it’s causing you to miscarry then who knows what else it could be doing and I will not allow you to die because of something I made. Do you understand?”

You really don’t want to fight with him. Not after you’ve been fighting for weeks at this point. “I do.” You continue to lay there for a few minutes in his arms as you and him enjoy each other’s company, finally at peace with each other. A knock on the door causes both of your heads to whip up. “Who is it?”

“It’s Kitty. Are you guys ok in there?”

“Yeah we’re fine,” Ernest replies, gently moving you off him as he gets up and fixes the bed. “We should probably leave and continue this at home.” Smiling softly, you wipe away any remaining tears as you walk to him. Reaching up your hand, you thread your fingers through his soft hair and pull him down, your lips brushing against his.

Grabbing your waist, Ernest greedily draws you in, all of the tensions melting away as he kisses you. Moaning into the kiss, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and keep him close, feeling a slight poking below his belt and it causes you to break away. “Ernest you can’t be serious.”

“I am, which is why we should get home,” he goes back to kissing you but you pull away again, a smile on your face.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#ernest lawrence #Ernest Lawrence x reader #Ernest Lawrence x you #josh hartnett #oppenheimer #reader insert #female reader #robert oppenheimer #j Robert oppenheimer #kitty oppenheimer #Cillian murphy #emily blunt

75 notes · View notes

lacontroller1991 · 11 months ago

Text

Next Door Neighbor (Edward Teller x F!Reader)

Main Master List || MISC Master List

Requested by @mariedork : I don't know if you're still writing for the fandom/taking requests, but I'd love to request something about Teller and fem. reader. maybe something like reader is helping Teller with research at Los Alamos (I know the real teller was married but oh well) you're both into each other but trying to be professional, maybe use the prompt "we're in public you know"

Summary: You and Teller often butt heads until one night the tensions tip over and feelings are revealed.

Author's Note: This is clearly based on Benny Safdie as Edward Teller from the movie. If you do not like, do not read. Also sorry if I butched the Hungarian. I do not speak it and I tried my best with the translator.

Warnings: Smut 18+, p in v, penile penetration, enemies to lovers, language, orgasm, female anatomy, male anatomy, slight misogynistic tone

Word Count: 4.2k

----------

The car ride is long and boring. Even the cheerful music from the radio couldn’t lift your spirits, not when you are being more or less shipped away to Los Alamos from your home in Berkeley. You suppose you should be grateful for the opportunity to work in close proximity to some of the greatest scientific minds of your time, but you would prefer it if you could stay in Berkeley and work under your doctoral advisor.

Seeming to sense your remaining frustration, Ernest Lawrence looks over to you, closing the folder in his hands and setting it in his lap. “You know, the more you frown, the more you’re going to get wrinkles,” he chuckles, poking your cheek causing you to frown even more.

“I still don’t know why you picked me over Lomanitz. Wouldn’t he be better at this?”

“Nah, I trust you more. Besides, you have better political ties than he does. You won’t be an issue.” He turns back to his dossier as you huff, looking out the window and watching as the brown landscape passes by.

After hours of driving, the car slowly comes to a stop, jostling you awake. Lawrence is the first to get out, moving towards his friend. Picking up your stuff, you manage to stumble out of the car, your legs miserably sore from the constant sitting.

“Physics side New Mexico, huh? My God, what a trek.” Lawrence smiles as he shakes Oppenheimer’s hand.

“That’s why you need a liaison,” Oppenheimer replies while Ernest tilts his head toward you.

“I’m appointing (Y/L/N).” Oppenheimer looks at you and smiles softly before gesturing to the driver to get your bags.

“You’re going to be okay.” You nod your head as Oppenheimer tilts his head. “Come now, we have much to discuss.” You and Lawrence follow Oppenheimer inside the building and you can’t deny how impressed you are at all of the different things going on inside. You watch in silence as Lawrence greets General Groves while Oppenheimer throws a couple of marbles into a glass bowl, causing the crowd to clap. Looking around the room, you note some familiar faces. Richard Feynman, who you’ve run into a couple of times. Of course Robert Serber, whom you’ve worked with and surprisingly Edward Teller, though you doubt he notices you. You remember bumping into him on a day that he was visiting Berkeley and then him immediately (and assumingly) exclaiming curse words in Hungarian before noticing you and shutting up. Gulping, you set down your jacket on a chair and hang in the back, out of site and out of mind.

“Well, here’s where you’ll be staying. I know it’s not much, but it does the job. Don’t mind your neighbor. We’ve gotten several complaints about him playing the piano late at night, so if it does disrupt your sleep, just let us know, we’ll figure something out,” the usher comments as you look around the bland room turning back to look at Lawrence in annoyance and even the ever so optimistic Lawrence looks like he shares some of your pity. The usher quickly leaves you and Lawrence alone.

“You owe me Ernest.”

“I promise. But you’re going to be fine. You have Oppie. He’ll help you!” Lawrence pats you on the back with a smile before looking around the barren room. “I think you can definitely spruce it up.” His comment isn’t appreciated and he can tell. Frowning, he slowly backs out of the room. “Well, do good. Don’t mess up and don’t make me look bad. Good luck.” He darts out of the room before you have the chance to say anything else. Dropping your bags, you let out a huff of annoyment.

“Just be thankful. Just be thankful.”

—-------

The days go by faster than you initially thought. Work is hard, sure, but working with several of the smartest minds helps the work go by quickly. The nights, on the other hand, are a completely different story. Since the night you got there, you’ve been tossing and turning in your bed, slowly drifting to sleep only to be woken by the slamming of a piano. Each night this happens, and each night you only get a few hours of sleep.

The piano slams again, causing you to let out a loud sigh of discontent. Throwing back your blanket, you swing your legs out of the bed and put on your robe, intending to give your neighbor a piece of your mind.

Walking out into the cold desert night, you stomp over to the house and knock sharply against the door, hearing the piano stop and chair scraping against wood, you tap your foot against the patio and wait for your neighbor to answer the door. What you don’t expect, however, is to see Edward Teller on the other side; and based on his reaction, he wasn’t expecting to see you too.

“What do you want?”

“I want to sleep, but your piano playing is preventing me from getting any,” you comment, your arms wrapped around your body as he raises an eyebrow in amusement.

“And that’s bothering you? Tünj el!” You can tell that he is annoyed by your comment, but you frankly don’t care.

“No. It’s the slamming the keyboard that is annoying me. It’s not hard playing Bartók.” You can see his eyes widen at the mention of the composer, almost as if asking ‘you actually know him?’. “And for the record. I do know him.” Teller stiffens, looking more intimidating by the second.

“Alright, if you know so much about Bartók, why don’t you play.” His Hungarian accent is thicker than it was a few seconds ago. Not being one to back down from a challenge, you brush past him into his house and sit down at the piano, aware of the holes that Teller was drilling into your head. Reading the sheet music, you let out a little scoff as you turn back to him.

“What about this is confusing you?” Silence. “Well?”

“Just play.” Shrugging your shoulders, you turn back to the piano and place your hands on the keys. As if it was instinctual, your fingers dance across the ivory keys, playing note for note Allegro Barbaro while Teller watches on in amazement, though he will never admit that. Finishing the piece, you sit at the piano for a few seconds before turning around to face the physicist.

“Satisfied?”

“Are you like this with your studies?”

“Naturally.”

“No wonder why they call you Lawrence’s protégé.” The comment causes you to blush. Of course you and Lawrence work closely together, and you guess you could say you’re one of his best students, but that doesn’t mean you’re a protégé. Nodding your head, you quickly stand up and fix your robe.

“Right. Well. Now that you know how to play it, please don’t slam the keyboard. It wears the piano down.” Teller furrows his brows and tilts his head, taking a step closer to you. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, or maybe it’s loneliness, but you feel a pull towards him and you don’t know what to make of it. He takes another step closer until you can feel his breath on your face and it causes your heart to race. “Well, I- I should probably get going,” you stutter out, dipping away from his body and rushing out the door, unaware of the way his eyes follow.

—-------

After finally being able to get some sleep, you wake up in the morning refreshed. By the time you get to your lab it is already bustling with personnel. If you thought that the Rad Lab in Berkeley was always busy, it really doesn’t compare to this.

“Ah, there you are,” you jump in surprise and turn around to Oppenheimer, hands clasped behind his back. “Lawrence called last night and asked me to pass along these measurements,” he hands you a piece of paper with writing on it. Clutching it in your hands, you nod in thanks, turning to leave but his hand reaches for your wrist. “Wait.”

“Yes Dr. Oppenheimer?” He lets go of your wrist and leans back on his heels, rocking back and forth.

“How are you finding it here? I haven’t seen much of you around and Lawrence asked me to keep an eye out for you.” Smiling softly, you turn your body towards the physicist.

“It’s alright. Nothing like Berkeley. I have finally been able to get some sleep.”

Nodding his head in response, he lights a cigarette and huffs it a couple of times before offering it to you, which you decline. “Good, well, keep up the good work.” He doesn’t say much else before skirting away. Shrugging your shoulders, you look down at the piece of paper, trying to make out what Oppie wrote before getting to work.

—-------

The sun has well past set in the sky by the time you gather your things. You suppose one of the good things about working here is that you can make your own hours versus the 22 hour days Lawrence would occasionally have you pulling. Shutting off the lights, you walk down the hall, noting that most of the staff has left by now, except for a room emitting a soft glow.

Peering your head into the room, you see Teller standing at a board, chalk scribbles scattered across and his suspenders down with his shirt untucked. Assuming the lack of assembly in his dress, he’s probably not having much luck with his work. Setting your coat and bag on a chair, you walk over to him and the board, getting a much better view of the problem.

Hearing your footsteps, Teller quickly turns around and lets out a stream of curse words at your presence. “Nice to see you too,” you quickly fire back, stopping at his side and crossing your arms, eyes gazing on the board.

“Now what do you want?” You can tell that he is annoyed, but you frankly don’t care.

“I was planning on going home but I saw the light in here was on so I was wondering who is doing what. So, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find another component to make this more powerful than Oppenheimer’s bomb,” you don’t know if it’s frustration or tiredness, but his accent seems to get heavier the more you hear him talk.

“What have you got so far?” He looks over at you and scoffs, turning back to the board.

“A student like you wouldn’t know.”

“Try me.”

“Deuterium needs to react with something else to ignite the fusion process, but I can’t seem to think of one that would work.” He runs a hand through his hair and you can’t help but to notice how handsome the Hungarian actually is and it has your heart racing.

“What about deuterium AND tritium?” His head slowly turns to you as if saying ‘are you serious?’ “What? Try it.” He scoffs but still inputs tritium into the equation and after a few minutes, he leans back, his face red. “Well?”

“Don’t play smug,” he quickly grabs his stuff and pushes past you, rushing out of the door, leaving you to stare at the board.

“I didn’t actually expect that to work,” you laugh to yourself before grabbing your stuff and heading in for the night.

—-------

The cyclotron hums softly in the background and if it wasn’t for people bustling around you, you’re sure you would’ve fallen asleep. Leaning back in your chair, you stretch your body with a yawn, cracking your neck from the stiffness. Scooting your chair back, you fix your outfit before heading out and walking down the hall where you know the coffee will be, but your name being said stops you in your tracks. Following the sound of the voice, you creep towards an open room, staying out of the doorframe and straining your ear.

“I can’t have her here. She is compromising my work!” Ok, so it’s Teller, but who is he talking to?

“It seems she’s helping you more than she’s compromising. Lawrence wouldn’t have sent her here if he didn’t have faith in her, and I trust Lawrence,” Oppenheimer comments as you creep closer. It’s pretty obvious that they’re talking about you, but why?

“A girl shouldn’t be working here, it’s too dangerous.” You jolt your head back in confusion. Sure, you knew that Teller probably hates your guts, but you didn’t think he would hate you this bad.

“Edward, she is just as good, if not better, than half of the scientists here. I am not going to get rid of her just because she ‘insulted’ your work.” You can distinctly hear Teller cursing before he’s walking out the door and right into you. His hard features soften upon seeing your eyes, slightly glossy, but it’s clear that you’re hurt by his words. Instead of speaking to you, he just dips his head and moves around you, rushing away leaving you standing there with an empty coffee mug. “I wouldn’t take it to heart, he doesn’t think that 90% of the staff should be here,” Oppenheimer comments from behind, causing you to jump in shock.

“It’s stupid, we’re all here for the same thing. We’re all here because we’re good enough AND smart enough to work on this project, no matter our gender.” Robert nods his head in agreement, inhaling smoke from his pipe.

“Just ignore him. Works for everyone else here.” He pats you on the back before moving to leave

“Hey, Robert?” He turns around to face you. “Thank you.” Robert nods his head before walking away.

----------

The clock reads 11:04 by the time you wrap up your work for the day. You knew that the days were going to be long before you came here, but you didn’t expect them to be this long. “God I’m so hungry.”

“It’s a good thing I brought some food.” His voice carries through the room, causing you to whip your head through the door only to spot the Hungarian physicist standing in the doorway, a paper bag in his hand.

“What are you doing here? I thought that you don’t want me here, let alone bring me food.” You can see his cheeks blush crimson ever so slightly as he makes his way over to you, sitting in the chair opposite of the control panel but still in your sight.

“I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have said those things.” His apology has your eyebrows raising in shock.

“Edward Teller? Apologizing? What world am I living in?”

“Don’t make me take it back,” he warns before scooting his chair next to yours, opening the bag and pulling out the contents. “I made some pörkölt. As an apology.” He pushes the tumbler towards you with a spoon and you’re not really sure how to react. After a moment, you take the spoon and bring a mouthful of the stew to your mouth. You don’t know what you were expecting it to taste like, but you definitely weren’t expecting it to be good.

“This is actually prett-” you can’t finish your sentence before you feel a pair of lips against yours, causing your eyes to go wide. After the shock factor dissolves, you quickly push him away, confusion written all over your face. “What the hell?”

He pulls back in confusion as well, his bushy eyebrows furrowing over his blue eyes. “Have I been reading you wrong? Are you not into me?” You have to resist the urge to slap him. Instead, you rapidly stand up, pointing a finger at him.

“Do you seriously have the audacity to ask me that? You keep me up at night with your piano playing, and then get mad when I try to help you. Then you get mad when I help you with your project. Then you insult me, talking about me behind my back, and you think that I like you? Why on earth would I be into you?” He knows you’re lying. He can tell by the way your chest raises up and down and pupils dilate. Chuckling, he stands up from his chair and steps in front of you with slight hesitation.

Grabbing a hold of your biceps, his blue eyes peer into yours. “I know you’re lying.” He doesn’t say another thing before he’s dipping his head down and pressing his lips against yours. You try to fight back, but deep down inside you can’t deny how right it feels. Giving in, your arms come up and wrap around his shoulders, anchoring him to you as you walk back until you’re pressed against a wall. It’s a minute before you break away, both of you gasping for air, his body heat radiating to you and it makes you nervous.

“We shouldn’t, we’re in public you know.” He scoffs and looks around the room, especially the dark windows and dark hallway.

“No one is here,” he replies as his hands drop to your hips, his thumbs brushing your skin underneath your shirt. “If it’s that much of a problem, we can go back to my place.” His offer has you pausing for a minute, but if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t mind getting down and dirty in the lab. Shrugging your shoulders, your hands push off his jacket as he lets it fall to the floor, his head slotted between your head and shoulder.

“I think I’m good here,” you can feel the smirk of his lips against your neck as his teeth drag across your skin, causing your eyes to flutter shut. Pulling you into him, you’re completely enveloped by his warmth as his hands creep lower, one hand resting on the small of your back and the other on your ass, fingers flexing as if he wants to do more but there’s still some hesitation. “Teller…”

“Edward, please.”

“Edward, you know you can touch me,” the confirmation is all he needs before he’s hoisting you into the air and carrying you over to a desk, placing you down and slotting himself between your legs. You watch as he breaks away from you, shoving down his suspenders and loosening his tie. Reaching between your bodies, you pop the buttons of your shirt off and chuck it to the floor, exposing your breasts which catch his attention. Wasting no time, his hands find themselves on your breasts, squeezing firmly, causing arousal to pool in between your legs. It’s been a while since you’ve been with a man. Working in the Rad Lab under Lawrence doesn’t really give you much of a life, let alone a love life, so just having another man touch you is really enough to send you spiraling. “Edward, I can’t wait,” you whine, your hands finding his belt as he lets out a huff of amusement.

“That impatient, hmm?” You nod your head in response, hopping down from the table to remove your skirt and underwear as he works on his slacks, pulling out his member with ease. Shoving his hand out of the way you take hold of his growing arousal and flick your wrist up and down in languid motions, causing him to let out a low moan. Despite the fact that your hand is jerking him off, it is odd to you to see the impersonal Edward Teller so vulnerable.

Deciding that enough was enough, Teller gently removes your hand and picks you up with ease, placing you down on the desk as he slots himself between your legs. “You ready?” Nodding your head, your heart races with anticipation. You can hear soft Hungarian coming from his lips as he guides the head of his shaft between your folds before slowly pushing in, him grunting softly and you squeezing your eyes shut, trying to relax your body as much as possible. “Are you okay?” His blue eyes peer down to yours as his thumbs softly run across your hips.

Swallowing down any pain, you nod your head, wiggling your hips as you stretch around him. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He hesitated but nodded his head, a strand of his dark hair falling on his forehead as he slowly moves in and out of you, his brows furrowed in concentration. After a minute of him holding himself back, pleasure starts replacing the pain and it has your toes curling. He feels.. just right, you think to yourself as your eyes find him as lust taking over. “You can go faster.” It’s all the instruction he needs before his pace picks up and it causes you to snort. Who would have thought that Teller can actually take direction?

“What’s so funny?” His voice stirs you back to the reality of him above you, hands digging into your hips and you don’t doubt that it will leave a bruise or two. Reaching up, you thread your hands through his soft hair and pull his face down to yours, your lips meeting halfway with his as the desk creaks underneath you. The already stiff room slowly starts to swelter as sweat begins to glisten both of your bodies. Breaking away from the kiss, Teller places his head between your shoulder and neck, biting down on your exposed flesh as he thrusts into you rapidly. Your legs wrap around his hips, bringing him in impossibly closer and it causes you to let out a loud moan and you can feel his lips twitch upward against your neck.

“That’s right, keep making sounds for me édesem.” You’re not really sure what he’s saying, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t turn you on, and he notices. Straightening his posture, he looks down at you with a smirk as his hips rock against yours. “Does me speaking Hungarian turn you on édesem?” You clench around him, accidentally proving your point and you cringe before he leans back over you, his member hitting a deeper angle that has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. “Micsoda mocskos lány.” He whispers against your ear, one hand reaching down between your bodies and finding your clit causing you to whine. “Alig várom, hogy elélvezz nekem.”

“Edward.” Your moan echoes in his ear as his fingers deftly rub your clit.

“Fogadok, hogy tetszik. Ugye, mocskos kislányom?” You hate to admit it, and you’ll probably deny it, but hearing him speak in his mother tongue has your orgasm nearing.

“Please,” you beg, your nails scratching against his back. “I need to cum.” Nodding his head, his hips shallowly grind against your, his dick dragging against your velvety walls as his fingers continue to rub your bundle of nerves.

“Cum nekem, Szerelmem. Cum for me,” the switch back to English sends you toppling over the edge and you clench around his member, your orgasm crashing through your body as he continues to thrust in and out of you despite his hips beginning to falter. “Bassza meg, olyan gyönyörű vagy.” He grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Where?”

“On me.” Nodding his head, he quickly pulls out with a moan and shoots his spend all over your stomach, his chest heaving up and down as his eyes flutter shut in relief for a second. After he comes down from his high he looks down at you with a smile.

“Olyan gyönyörű vagy alattam.” He grabs a couple of napkins from the bag and wipes your stomach as you prop yourself up on your arms, body glistening with sweat.

“What were you saying?” He smiles before helping you down from the table as the two of you start redressing.

“Nothing important, édesem. We should probably clean up,” he gestures to the floor around you littered with papers. When did they get knocked off?

“Huh, I don’t remember them falling off,” you comment, kneeling on the ground with shaky legs and picking up the papers, Teller helping you before a throat clears in the hallway, causing the both of you to look up.

“If you guys are going to fuck, please keep it out of the lab,” Oppenheimer comments, puffing his pipe before walking away causing you to tilt your head in shame and Teller to quickly stand up, his face beet red.

“You do this too! Seggfej!” The room falls quiet as tension grows between you and Teller stand awkwardly across from each other.

“So.”

“What did this mean?” You ask as you turn away, placing the papers back on the desk and fixing them, trying to avoid his gaze in case he rejects you.

Teller takes a step towards you as his hand cups your face and turns it to him. “It means that I like you. I know it doesn’t seem like that, but I do. You challenge me in a way that not alot of other people can do and I want that in my life. I want you in my life. If you want to be?” A smile graces your face as you nod your head.

“Yeah, I think I’ll like that.” Teller smiles in response, dropping his hand from your face and gathering his things.

“Good, would you like for me to accompany you home?”

“We’re heading the same way, so sure,” offering him a smile, you flip off the lights to the lab and take his hand in yours, “next time though, let’s do it somewhere else.”

#Edward teller x reader #Edward teller x female reader #Edward teller x you #Edward teller #benny safdie #Oppenheimer movie #oppenheimer #j Robert oppenheimer #Ernest lawrence #josh hartnett #Cillian murphy #reader insert #request #lacontroller1991

53 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 1 year ago

Text

Chemical Reactions (P. 13)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut

Words: 4,566

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

Previous Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9; 10; 11; 12

Two weeks later…

With some delay and following further investigations into your past and present, you finally arrived at Los Alamos and were shown around the civilian quarters by Officer Nichols.

Officer Nichols had been told to keep an eye on you, and when he made some remarks again about your integrity and relationship with Dr. Oppenheimer, you felt as though you were being singled out.

This, of course, did not surprise you as, at least for now, no one in the department believed that you were here on merit, and you knew that you had to make sure that, soon, you would be known for your work and intellect rather than the fact that you were sleeping with the man who oversaw the project.

Just like Robert Oppenheimer, you had a brilliant mind, and even your lecturers at Harvard, some of whom were here now, concurred with this.

According to Robert Serber, for example, there was a good reason Robert wanted you in Los Alamos, which was your good understanding of how atoms work. You were young and had an open mind for new-age physics. You had a belief that had not been tainted by the old teachings that were no longer relevant, and, most importantly, you had a great desire to progress in your career. You only learned from the best in the field, including Hans Bethe and Robert Oppenheimer himself, and this made you who you were.

As such, you were welcomed by most scientists in your field, and you, indeed, were not the only student working on the project. There were three of you now, and you all were once students of Robert Oppenheimer or Hans Bethe.

Since most scientists on the project were men, however, you almost ended up in the communications room by mistake, as Officer Nichols pointed out that, realistically, you had no place here. Physics was still a male-dominated field, and you quickly realized that even the living quarters assigned to all the female workers were rather primitive.

Like all the other single women, you were assigned to live at T-101, a civilian women’s dormitory that housed women civilians or non-military staff working for the Manhattan Project.

The dormitory was outside the designated project area, as were all of the scientist’s lodges of those scientists who arrived at Los Alamos with their families or who were well known and more important than you.

This, of course, included Robert, who had a large house located about three hundred meters from T-101 and, according to Lilli Horing, another female scientist you met during your first hour at Los Alamos, he and some of the other scientists occasionally hosted dinner parties, to which one was lucky to be invited.

“I don’t see Dr. Oppenheimer as a cook,” you joked, seeing that Lilli already knew that, before being assigned to this project, you had studied under Robert Oppenheimer himself and therefore had built a professional relationship with him.

“Of course, he doesn’t cook himself. There is staff here who cooks for everyone, and food is catered to the lodgings. That is, of course, unless the wives of these great minds are around. They seem to be bored here and cook and bake all day. I couldn’t imagine anything worse,” your newfound friend said with great amusement.

“Neither could I,” you told Lilli before she took you around T-101 and showed you to your room and the adjacent facilities.

***

Unlike many other women in T-101, you and Lilli each had your room with a bathroom you shared. Your space was set out primitively, and you were glad you took some books with you, although you had nowhere to put them.

In your room, there was a small bed and a small desk. You had army blankets, sheets, towels, and washcloths, all of which had the words “USED” written on them, making you chuckle.

“It stands for United States Engineer Detachment,” Lillie luckily informed you, and, no doubt, you would soon all have great jokes about your “used” linens.

“Now, we start to work at 9 o’clock, and you should probably report to your superior beforehand,” Lilli said before asking you who you were meant to report to.

“Doctor Oppenheimer,” you told her, causing her to laugh.

“No, I mean, who are you reporting to directly?” she chuckled.

“Dr. Oppenheimer,” you repeated before telling her you were assigned one of the plutonium research teams.

“You are a student, and get your team?” Lilli asked, surprised.

“Yeah, it is quite specific, however. We are only three people working on it, and I have done some research back at Harvard on a similar matter which I hope will come in handy now that my other professor has resigned from the project. Don’t ask me why it is relevant because Robert did not tell me, and I am sure I cannot tell you, but…’ you began to say, which is when Lilli interrupted.

“Robert?” she asked, surprised that you referred to Robert Oppenheimer by his first name. Only his wife Kitty called him that, whereas most older scientists called him Oppie, and the younger ones still used his full title as it was most polite.

“I meant Dr. Oppenheimer,” you corrected yourself before asking her where Robert’s office was so that you could report to him.

Ten minutes later…

Ten minutes later, after you cleared the project site’s security, you arrived at Robert’s office, which was centrally located between the laboratories and other buildings.

His secretary, Claire, let you into his office after confirming your name and position at the complex. Still, Robert did not notice you sneaking up on him as he was transfixed on one of the calculations presented to him by Hans Bethe.

“Good Morning, Doctor Oppenheimer,” you thus said while resting your hand on his shoulders, startling him, and, for a short moment, he even cursed before finally turning around to face you.

“You are here? Already?” Robert asked with surprise just as you smiled at him, caressed his face, and then attempted to kiss him, which he would not permit in his office.

“I missed you,” you told him nonetheless, and even though he missed you too, he could not help but chuckle.

“It has only been two weeks,” Robert told you, seeing that he had visited you in San Francisco two weeks ago.

“I know, but I am increasingly thirsty for your attention these days, so…” you began to say, causing Robert to pull you aside into a corner of his office that was, from the door, not visible to his secretary, he thought.

“You have no idea how much I have looked forward to this day,” Robert said without noticing that his secretary was looking through the small glass plate on the door to his office. “But we cannot do anything inappropriate here,” he told you, chuckling while now caressing your face.

“Why? Is this office bugged too?” you joked, seeing that this would not have been the first-time army officials were listening to you having sex.

“Not as far as I know, but my secretary can usually hear a pin drop, and you are not exactly quiet when it comes to our usual interactions. Despite, I have to get to work, and so do you,” Robert told you, trying to put you into your place, which is when you looked at your watch and shook your head.

“No, professor, we still have about twenty minutes before work hours commence, and I can guarantee that I will be working much more efficiently if my sexual needs are met,” you giggled, causing Robert to interrupt you.

“Fine. But you have to be quiet, and I have to be quick. Come on,” Robert told you before pulling you into another small room, being a side office of some sort, which was not quite as lovely as his own and belonged to one of the army officials who called in sick that day.

“Officer Kent, huh?” you asked as you found yourself inside this dingy, dodgy-looking office with the officer’s name written on the door.

“Well, he listened to us having sex in San Francisco, so it seems reasonable to use his desk now as a trade-off, wouldn’t you say?” Robert told you, and, at this moment, you were okay with that.

“Despite, I doubt that he would have planted listening devices into his own office, so maybe we have some privacy here,” Robert then joked, and you could no longer withstand it. You wanted him, even if he would immediately bend you over the desk without any foreplay.

“I suppose you could be right” You swallowed harshly just as Robert leaned against you, pressing you against the desk and kissing you again.

Your mouths were connected now. Your tongues were swirling, darting, and exploring each other while the kiss refused to end.

His hands were moving up your sides, gently pressing in against the swell of your breasts. At the same time, you dug your fingernails into his back and then grabbed hold of his neck, desperately pulling his face closer to you.

The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, and you were lost in a trance.

‘Come on, I want to taste you,’ Robert said after your lips drifted apart, and within a second, he lifted you onto the desk.

“You have been,” you pointed out, teasing and responding to his comment, but Robert laughed.

“You know exactly what I meant by that, and you also know that this is my favorite thing to do,” he said, placing a finger onto your soft lips before tracing the same finger over your body, slowly downwards.

Without bothering to undress you, he pushed your blouse beneath your breasts, massaging them and kissing them roughly before his hands slid beneath your skirt in haste, and he pulled down your panties.

‘So wet already, my love,’ he pointed out as he touched your naked mound. ‘Spread your legs for me,’ Robert ordered as he stepped back, and you complied with his request and watched on.

‘Okay, Robert. I am all yours,’ you said eagerly, waiting for him, with your breasts and mound exposed while he watched you contently before, with a smirk, approaching the desk again.

‘Spread your legs wider,’ he then demanded, and without thought, your legs parted some more, and his head disappeared in between them almost eagerly.

Without warning, his tongue immediately located the hood of your clit, causing you to scream out loud.

Your reaction made him smile as, with all of the anticipation, cold sweat beaded up on your brow.

‘You taste incredible as always,’ Robert groaned as his tongue kept swirling around your clit and then, occasionally, slid up and down in between your slit, lapping up your juices.

You flooded your channel as Robert almost sent you over the edge with his skilled tongue alone, and, at that moment, two of his fingers slid over your wet folds, slowly parting your well-lubricated lips and entering you.

‘Oh, Jesus, ’ you groaned as your flower opened and the invaders found their way to your g-spot.

He manipulated you, edging you slowly with his thrusting fingers and tongue. He had you on the brink, and you were about cum.

‘Robert! Fuck!’ you moaned again as chills ran up both your legs, and you trembled involuntarily. Your orgasm hit you immediately, fast, hard, and somewhat unexpectedly.

You came all around Robert’s fingers within five minutes, and while you were almost embarrassed by how quickly you came, he was rather pleased with himself.

‘I missed you and how needy you are for my touch,’ he observed as you finally came down from your high and gasped for air.

‘We will have much fun together here,’ Robert then said as you had finally recovered from your intense orgasm, following which he pulled you off the desk.

Then he stepped closer to you and immediately started undoing his belt buckle and opening his fly. With a smile on your face, you unzipped his fly. You grabbed the waistband of his pants and his briefs and began slowly tugging them down.

“I want to taste you now,” you said as, first, you saw his pubic hair, then the top of his cock, and as you pulled his briefs further down, his cock sprang forth in all its erect glory.

“There is no time for that now. We are running out of time, and I need to be inside of you,” he told you before pulling you off the desk and planting another kiss on your lips.

‘Now around and lean over the desk,” Robert instructed, and just after you complied with his request, he lifted your skirt.

“You get a better view than me. That’s not fair,” you teased, seeing that Robert could watch his cock disappear inside you repeatedly while all you could see was an empty chalkboard.

‘I do, and it is a pretty perfect view, actually,” Robert whispered as he slid his fingers between your thighs to rub your slit. You moaned loudly in response, ready and eager to feel him.

‘I cannot wait to fill you with my cum every day now, knowing that, when you are out working at the lab, you will still have it inside of you all day long’ he then groaned as his fingers slid back and forth gently in a teasing manner.

‘You know Robert, this could get very distractive for me,’ you told him while his eyes heated further as he gazed down at your wet slit, and his eyes devoured it as his hands grasped onto your thighs and slid upwards. His palms ran over your hips and circled back until he held your soft, round ass in his hands. With a light grunt, he squeezed it roughly with his fingers as his cock twitched between them.

‘I am certain that you will do just fine,’ he rasped thickly, and the thought of leaking his cum all day, every day, turned you on incredibly.

‘Hmm…Robert, ’ you moaned as his words seemed to break you from your daze as you looked over your shoulder. Your expression was that of someone who desperately needed to be fucked.

As your gazes met, he trailed one hand over your hip, sliding the tips of his fingers across your stomach. Tilting his head slightly, his hand slid low, and his palm brushed your mound before two fingers slid between your moist lips as he searched for your opening.

When he quickly found it and pushed inside of you, you reacted with a moan of approval. Your eyes widened, and your hands lifted to grip the desk before you to steady yourself as your entire body jerked.

He groaned at the feel of you. ‘You are so tight, fuck’ he told you thickly in amazement. His fingers pushed more profoundly, and you tensed further and cried out with lust.

‘Oh god,’ you moaned as his fingers explored your insides.

‘Shhhh, we don’t want anyone to hear us,’ Robert said as he slipped his fingers from you and raised his hand to drop them into your mouth.

‘Now, see how good you tase,’ he said, pulling them out and reaching for your hips to pull you closer. Once you were positioned where he wanted you, he leaned forward slightly.

Gripping his cock in one hand, he took hold of your hips with the other to hold you in place as he slid the head between your folds. It glided along your slippery gash until it reached your ass, then he slid it back toward your clit. He rubbed himself back and forth as your fingers dug into the desk.

‘I need you inside of me,’ you gasped with need.

‘That’s good because that is exactly where I want to be,’ Robert groaned before slipping his cock into your entrance.

Then, Robert gripped both of your hips in his hands and roughly pulled you against him as his shaft pushed deep inside of you while a long moan escaped him.

‘God, you're so tight still,’ he breathed again as you moaned loudly.

Slipping out slightly, he rocketed into you again, barely noticing your wince of pleasure as you moaned against his palm, which had now come up to your mouth to stifle your moans.

‘Fuck’ he breathed, loving the feel of your clenched walls around him, and when you were filled to the hilt, he let out a roar of pleasure as you cried out just as his hand had trailed away from your face.

Pausing only a moment to enjoy how it felt, he leaned over you and clamped his fingers over your mouth again as he roughly began to fuck you from behind.

You moaned into the palm of his hand as his cock slammed into you repeatedly as his breathing grew labored.

Burying his face against your neck, he slid his other hand between you to grip one of your breasts and massaged the soft skin before pinching your nipple. The action made your muffled cries of pleasure grow louder. The sounds only enhanced him, and he moaned against your ear as he plowed into you.

‘Do you like having me inside of you like this?’ he asked in a pant.

‘Yes, Robert. Fuck’ you moaned as he began to ram into you hard. Then he paused, then swirled his hips in a small circle.

‘Good,’ he groaned as a shudder rocked through him, and he began to viciously pound between your legs again, causing you to almost scream against his palm.

His lips parted against your neck as his body moved on top of you. He emphasized each thrust he made with his hips by grunting softly while uttering words of encouragement into your ear.

‘That's right,’ he panted. ‘Spread your legs wide for me,’ he groaned as he looked down between you.

When he saw his cock pushing between your folds, forcing its way in, he let out another low-pitched groan and stilled with only the tip inside you. Gazing down at it hypnotically, he slid in fast, then slowly pulled out until only the head was buried. Pushing forward slowly, he felt your hotly clutching around him, grasping at his shaft.

‘Oh my god…’ you moaned as he continued thrusting into you, and you knew you were close.

Lifting his head and straightening his back, he plunged into you hard and looked down at you. Your back was arched slightly, and you continued to moan loudly into his palm until you suddenly began to shiver.

‘That’s it, cum for me,’ Robert groaned as you came hard and fast and began twisting his hips as he went in and out of you.

After you came, he released your mouth and gripped it onto the sides of your waist. Losing himself, he began thrusting into you relentlessly until, finally, he came as well with a loud groan.

Hot spurts of cum jetted from his body deeply into yours, and as it flowed out of him, he stiffened and pressed himself as deep as he could get, pressing tight against your cervix. His entire body shuddered, and when it ended, he was still. His fingers eased away from your hips, and he pulled out, making some of his cum leak out of you almost immediately and thereby giving you a sensational feeling until, suddenly, you were interrupted by Robert’s secretary.

“Dr. Oppenheimer, there is a problem at the testing side,” she said while looking at you with disgust as you quickly collected your panties from the floor, and while she did not see what exactly you were doing, it was obvious to her.

“At this hour?” Robert asked before excusing himself to deal with the situation on hand, which, unbeknownst to you then, would change history forever. The techniques currently used by the team did not work, and you were one of the scientists brought to Los Alamos to fix it.

You mentioned it to Robert in the past when talking about stars, and this conversation with you on dark matter gave him ideas that he is now out to implement.

“Actually, Y/N, I want you to come with me and look at the problem. Maybe we can find a solution together,” he thus said, turning around and then reaching for your hand, which was a gesture that both surprised and confused you and his secretary who, when you left to follow Robert, made contact with Kitty.

“Do you remember the student you enquired about a while ago?” she asked Robert’s wife after she had picked up the phone, currently residing in San Francisco.

“Y/N Y/LN? From Robert’s department at Berkley?” Kitty ought to clarify.

“Yes. Her. She is here, at Los Alamos, working for your husband. I thought that you should know,” she told her, which, of course, gave Kitty something to think about.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #oppenheimer movie #oppenheimer #oppenheimer 2023 #oppenheimer au #j robert oppenheimer #robert oppenheimer #oppenheimer x y/n #oppenheimer x you #oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer x you #j robert oppenheimer x reader #robert oppenheimer smut

263 notes · View notes

infinitegalahad · 1 year ago

Text

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 5

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: You and Robert, of course, were a couple. A serious one at that; no more games, judgment, hiding, and dancing around the idea. But it came with its many hardships. Word Count: 6.0k Warnings: LOTS. Please read. Infidelity, messy relationships, minor blood loss, loss of child, cursing, and minor sexism (not from Oppie). Please read and heed with caution. Notes: THAT HAT. OMG. MY HUSBAND IS LOOKING SO FINE THERE. oops sorry for being horny on the writing account, next topic! folks, buckle up, this is a lot! not only is the longest chapter, but its got a lottttt of drama happening. we're talking infidelity, marriage proposals, trinity, kitty being a bad bitch, edward teller in sunscreen, my drunk writing, groves being an ass hole and most importantly; TWO sex scenes. apparently, y'all loved my smut, and i appreciate your compliments! there's one more scene to come *insert winky face* mwahahha. i also know i said this is ten chapters, but this story is nearing it's ending, so there's one more real chapter. I'm going to try concluding the story within the week. I've been packing for school and I've got a long drive on Thursday. I'm done with most of my packing, so I will try to release the final chapter tomorrow. the epilogue will be much shorter. this has been one hecka of a ride, and the next chapter will most likely be a lot of drama. once again, your support has been amazing, thank you all for everything! <3 Taglist: @forgottenpeakywriter @queenshelbyy @chloriine36 @kodzuvk Taglist | Masterlist

It was five in the morning, and yet it didn’t feel close to it. The sky was pitch black with not a star to be soon. The only light of the source came from the dim light bulbs and the headlights of the cars that surrounded you. You lay on your stomach beneath an uncomfortable mat with your hand edging the corners of the binoculars you held, the other hand reaching for the pain of sunglasses to block the light that would hopefully come from the test bomb.

Two years. Two years of potential hard work gone to nothing.

Awaiting the announcement of the detention, you laid and, in an attempt to hide your anxiety, thought about how the hell you ended up in the middle of New Mexico, working on some secret project for the government, and what it took to get you to be a small part in the Manhattan Project.

You and Robert, of course, were a couple. A serious one at that; no more games, judgment, hiding, and dancing around the idea. But it came with its many hardships.

The first straw was Kitty.

She was much older, and from what you heard, extremely intimidating. While you respected and honored her, you also wanted to avoid her, as you felt that she did not like you at all. Robert had told her he was in a relationship with a “young” woman, emphasizing “young”, and Kitty read him the riot act. Robert thought she was overreacting, but you sympathized and understood. All you wanted was to be respectful, and honestly, avoid her at all costs.

But of course, that didn’t happen. After one of your Friday sessions, which ended in Robert and you making love, you slept at this house and stayed until Sunday most times. You even had your own toothbrush and brush, using the feminine bathing products and flowery perfumes that Robert had gifted you. Hatomi had noticed and always said you smelled good. She had been having a possible affair with your French Literature teacher, but that was a story for another time.

That one morning, you woke up with Robert’s arm on your waist, and a child staring directly at you. You identified him as Peter, as he was the spitting image of Robert, minus the parts that very much looked like Kitty. Blinking rapidly, you thought it was some bad dream, but the broken truck and bright, sad blue stare made you realize that Kitty was here with her and Robert’s children.

You and Kitty didn’t take long to meet, with her being dressed and you being butt naked.

Both of you had to smack Robert awake, who was appalled at the situation. There stood his children in front of a girl who was closer in age to them than their father and a very pissed-off mother. Naturally, this needed a very long conversation.

Kitty glared at you while sitting on the couch with Robert’s shirt on. She, like Robert, smoked a cigarette; her cold eyes burning into your skin. Robert reached over to grab your hand, which you slapped away.

“So you’re his student?”

You gulped and looked down, nodding.

“And you’re getting your bachelor’s degree in what? The arts?”

“Maybe a Bachelor’s in both the arts and science, ma’am.”

She blows a puff of smoke into your face, making it feel very directed. As she gets up to get a drink, she eyes you and turns to Robert.

“At least she’s smart.”

As much as you really want to leave, Robert insists you stay too well, impress Kitty, and show her you can cook, provide, and care for him. It infuriates you, and as much as you look at the door, you force yourself to stay. You don’t have any clothes there, so you’re forced to wear Robert’s white oxford shorts and bottom lingerie shorts while working around Kitty. She blatantly asked if you had anything besides Robert’s clothes to wear, and you said no. She sighed.

As Robert plays with his children, Kitty and you decide to make dinner, together. She wants to make Robert’s favorite, which you know by heart; chicken, boiled potatoes, and peas. You tell her, at least advise her, that Robert now likes his potatoes mashed and his chicken with pomegranate seeds on it. Kitty holds a large knife, and you swear that she looks like she wants to stab you with it.

“Where do you get them from?” She coldly asks as she pours milk into the bowl to stir the potatoes.

You look up from sauteeing the chicken with garlic and respond, “Get?”

“The Pomegranate.”

“Oh, his garden,” Your face begins to grow red, “He didn’t know he had pomegranate’s in his garden–”

“Until you told him,” Kitty interrupts.

She stops cutting, and you stop mixing the chicken. There’s a shared silence between the two of you; filled with thousands of questions.

You scratch behind your ear and sigh, gathering yourself before you respond.

“Yes. He likes them a lot. I noticed Toni likes them, too. However, I shouldn’t–”

“You care.”

‘What?”

“You care about him a lot. I can see that,” Kitty goes on about. Once she’s done mixing the potatoes, she goes to the sink to clean the mixer. You can swear you hear sniffle.

“There’s no other reason why you would be using him, y/n. I can’t think of one because there’s none. You’re troubled, yet good. You may be young and naive, but you care about Robert. You take care of him, and I, well–”

Kitty can’t finish her sentence. She drops the mixer and tries to hide her contained sobs and hunching over the sink, but you notice. You walk over to try and comfort her, but Robert’s not far. His voice echoes along with the laughter of two children. Hearing this, Kitty pulls herself together and sniffles. She walks past you with red eyes. You want to ask, but you don’t.

You learn, through numerous sources, that Kitty did not hate you, nor was jealous. She, according to one person, adored you. You found that hard to believe, but every time you sent the children gifts,s he made sure to write you an apology note.

However, while you made room for Kitty, you utterly refused to make room for Jean Tatlock.

At that point in your relationship, you and Robert had been going on relatively strong. He’s your boyfriend, and your Friday meetings had extended to more weekly meetings, so with stays at his house. Some people know you are an item; some are disgusted, and some are happy. None of this bothers you and Robert as you continue to be a happy couple; until it’s not happy.

First, it’s the regrets. After each time you’d fuck, Robert would go on about how horrible of a man he is and how he can’t keep doing this. You do some further digging, and with some integration, learn that he’s not teaching next year. He’s off to some “secret location,” and within the mixture of his regret of “poisoning you”, he recommends that you two should simply stop and just leave each other.

Of course, this breaks your heart. Hatomi, and your other friends, are horribly worried about. Your lab partner in your chemistry class, George, can see that your eyes are red and asks if you are okay. You respond that you are, having a feeling that something else is going on with Robert.

At your next Friday meeting, you arrive early, but you don’t water the flowers, and you know why you don’t want to ever water them again. Robert comes to the door, ten minutes late, and when he opens it, you can see his collar is flipped up and his hair is a mess. As he takes a breath, you push past him and run up the stairs. You already see the pair of kitten heels by the door, and as Robert pleads for you to wait, you don’t. Once you turn the all too familiar corner to his bedroom, you hear a soft curse. It’s a woman’s voice.

Turning into his bedroom further proves your worst nightmare; another woman. Let alone, your own fucking psychiatrist; Jean Tatlock.

In your sessions with Jean, she’s been breaking more code of conduct, talking about the new man she's seeing, saying she’s having “one heck of an affair”. Based on her descriptions of him, from the lineage and nicknames, you put the pieces together, and all of them lead back to her and Robert.

“Y/n,” Jean calmly pleads. She covers herself with a blanket as she gets out of bed, “Stop. Wait. We want to talk-”

The words “we” make your eyes swell with tears. Spinning on your heel, you beeline towards the stairs, but bump into the person you least want to see; Robert. He puts his hands on his arms, but you violently shrug and push his chest away.

“Get away from me–” You hiss. As you back up, you sense Jean behind you and scream the same thing at her, “--Back, both of you.

“Y/n,” Robert gently calls your voice, holding out his hands, “I’ve been meaning to tell you-”

“Tell me fucking what?” You bark at him. You point your finger back to Jean, “Robert, honestly, out of all people, my fucking psychologist? The one who describes my medications? The person I tell everything too besides you? The one I saw today just two hours ago for my weekly session?”

Jean is sobbing behind you. You like her, but yet, don’t feel bad. She’s much older than you; she should know better.

“I had no idea–”

You scoff and let out a fake laugh, “Idea? Sure,” You look back at Jean, whose mascara is running down her face, “Don’t cry; you knew. You’re smarter than you look, you knew. You know my background, and you would go out of your way to do this? And now? We all fucking know. Robert, now we all know you were cheating on your little pure virgin girlfriend with her fucking psychologists, whom I considered to be one of my friends.” Looking at Jean, you say that last sentence, ensuring she understands you are no longer her client, let alone her friend.

Walking down the stairs, Robert grabs your arm and forces you to stop walking. You refuse to look back, but you can hear his breathing, which makes you scrunch your firsts.

“Y/n, I understand your anger. This is far beyond wrong. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. I think it’s best that you take the time to finish your education and, if I recommend, mingle with others your age,” Robert explains with a condescending tone, which makes your blood boil.

“I can no longer carry the guilt on my shoulders. I used you for too long, and now it’s catching up with me. I’m sorry to do this to you, y/n, but I-”

You violently throw your arm back, shaking Robert’s hold on you. Through Robert’s breathing and Jean’s sobs, you storm down the stairs. Your face feels hot, and so does your body, but you ignore it as you stumble out of the house. Ignoring the calls of your name from Robert and Jean, you run out of Robert’s house and down the hill. Once you are away, you finally let go and let the hot tears run down your cheeks. Finally, the devastation and pain hit you like a bullet. When you’re not around any trace of Robert or Berkeley or any of it, you let out a screaming sob of frustration, anger, and sadness.

It takes you a short while to recover.

You no longer like to associate Robert with his name. Once again, he’s reduced to Dr.Oppenheimer; your terrifying physics professor with endless icy eyes and a tendency to smoke, not the man who took your virginity and showered you with expensive gifts that you refused to throw out. The relationship between you two has been severed and erased with your function serving as professor and student. Your meetings stop, at the end of the Semester, Robert gives you an A with an E for exceptional effort. Your parents receive your report card, and out of all your grades, are most fond of your Physics report. Dr.Oppenheimer writes that you are an active participant whom he had the pleasure of working with personally in the term. As they read out his comment, your memory flashes back to it all; the dinners, the music, the fire, the terms of endearment, and the whole lot of it.

Your mother, through a puff of smoke, remarks that he seems like an amazing man. Forcing a smile, you agree.

Once you return after the Holiday break, nothing much has changed in Berkeley. You’re still alone yet doing well academically, Hatomi’s on the verge of ruining a marriage, and you and Robert have not spoken, according to your calendar, in over two months.

And then you meet George.

George is your lab partner in Physics. You have known him since your orientation at Berkeley, from the forced events to the lackluster parties. He’s always had an interest in you, and has made it clear from day one; from wanting to be your lab partner to even asking Hatomi if you preferred chocolates over flowers. When you two would sit down together, he would always initiate small talk and ask how your day is going. You’d respond and spark up small conversations about your lives.

Into the first week of December, George asked after class if you wanted to go see Citizen Kane with him. He bought two tickets, and offered to buy you anything you wanted, but understood if you were busy since in his words, you seemed even busy on Friday afternoons.

You knew Robert was watching. You quickly glanced up and saw him at his desk, smoking as he pretended to observe tests when really, he was observing the interaction between the two of you.

“I’m actually no longer busy at all on Fridays,” You loudly say as you want the words to echo and burn into Robert, “And yes, I’d love to go to the movies with you.”

“I’ll pick you up at Stern?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

George arrived an hour before and took you out for an early dinner. You knew that he loved to read like you, but you also learned he was fluent in three languages and was overall extremely educated. He made sure to ask what you enjoyed, telling you to talk about your favorite books, movies, or anything that you loved. You had told him to read the first few chapters of Citizen Kane to familiarize yourself with the movie. George went red and said he had done the same, offering that if they enjoyed the movie, they could see together and talk about the plot.

The movie was good, and in addition to the soda and popcorn he bought you, he also took you back to his dorm and fucked you like there was no tomorrow. As he humped into you, you clawed at his back and looked up at the cycling. Everytime you close your eyes, you see and think of Robert. You forced George to look at you throughout the sec and kissed him patiently to void all thought of Robert.

There was no doubt that Robert was bothered by you and George’s interactions. You made it not so obvious that you were George’s girlfriend, while George did; from the hushed whispers and small touches he’d give you in class. While George would be doing such small things, Robert would be intensely staring from a distance with straghinted fingers and furrowed eyebrows. At one point, he changed lab partners in an attempt to keep you and George apart. You still worked together on every single lab, and to Robert’s dismay, aced every single one.

In the beginning, you remember Robert leaving flowers in your cubby during Labs since you’d always arrive about ten minutes early. He’d tuck them into the pocket of your lab jacket. Without fail, and everytime, you threw each flower out. Eventually all together, you stopped showing up on time and made sure to show with George.

Robert soon began to disappear from your thoughts and life. For the remainder of the year, you only spoke to him in class and nowhere else with cold, curt interactions. George had replaced Robert in all, shape, way, and form. It was strange to go with George since he was your age, and not in your former case, your thirty five year old Physics professor who cheated on you with your friend and phys-

But that was all in the past.

Two years had gone by. Robert was the thought of the past now and you kept yourself busy between obtaining a Bachelor of Arts and Science in Literature and Physics, all while maintaining a very serious relationship with George. You spent most summers with him on Nantucket sailing or collecting seashells. Sometimes, you’d think about the “what ifs'' of Robert taking you to New Mexico on a horseback adventure. That had once been a reality, but now would forever remain a fantasy. George reminded you that yes, there were good men in the world. You both had your many issues and ups and downs, but both of you agreed that infidelity was never on your list.

Eventually, each cycle completes itself for everything. During the fall of your Junior year at Berkeley, George proposes to you on a weekend trip up to Napa. He’s smiling the whole way through, and says he doesn’t want to wait any longer and heads straight to the courthouse to wed.

You want to say yes, you really do, but you can’t. No matter how many times you say you love him, you know that you love him as a confidant, but not a lover.

Rejecting his proposal, that ends every tie with George. Things are sour for a week, but Hatomi helps moderate a conversation between you two. George sobs, which in return, makes you cry. You apologize to him, and tell him he deserves better; telling him that if he sees a pretty girl, he should take her to the movies and buy her what she wants. George smiles and thanks you for loving him, hugging you, and wishing you the best of luck in your future endeavors. He writes you a letter, but you refuse to open it and leave inside of your copy of Citizen Kane, shoving it into your bookcase for it to gather dust.

After you and George are finished, there’s no time to grieve as you were being dragged into another situation. What seems like any other ordinary walk to your metaphysics class results with you alone in an office space with an intimidating general. He did not introduce himself, but you gathered his name as Major Groves. He held a thick file on you, questioning your life and digging into every little detail. He pressured you on your two brothers and roommates, who happened to be associated with the Communist party, asking if you had any association. You held your hands up and was nothing but honest; saying that while Hatomi still went to your meetings, your brothers had stopped talking about the idea once both of them married and had their own families.

Still, Groves persisted and became aggressive, accusing that your friends and you were some type of danger to democracy. Communism isn't your thing ever, but you had respected it. Many people you surround yourself with were either former communist or still into it, not that it bothers you. You thought of Robert; whom never associated, but you knew he gave money.

Which was strange. With your thought of Robert, you heard a silent shut. Groves sighed and you looked, and to your horror and saving grace, it was Robert.

“Thank god you’re here,” Groves let out a huff as he leaned against the desk.

“Major Groves,” Robert nodded his head as he took off his porkpie hat. He stood away from you, but beside your chair, “Is there any issue with Miss Y/n?”

Groves, still looking gruff, pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Well yes, and no. You see, I find it alarming that she has both family and friends in association with the Communist party. I also understand her, uhm,” Groves hesitated to say it out loud, “Former relations, according to you. It raises suspicious since well, she is both in association with a communist, many of whom who are female in which he know where that ends, and slept wi-”

You were about to walk out, not wanting to be dragged into whatever mess this way, but Robert’s calm voice echoed and immediately shut up Groves.

“General, on the defense of Miss Y/n, I can assure that her ideologies and gender are mennail to the subject of the meetings. As for our past relations, there are of the past. I ask that you not criticize or grill her without my presence,” Robert’s voice commanded. He looked at you and back at Groves, clearing his throat.

Your heart skipped a beat as you shifted in your head, clasping your hands together. Robert looked at you, and you returned his gaze, quietly thanking him.

Once Robert entered, Groves' interrogation stopped and he got what he pulled out of class. In his words, something “big” and “important” was occurring in an undisclosed location in New Mexico. You pieced together that a weapon of destruction was being built, since Groves brought up in your profile that your skills in Physics primarily resize in the nuclear and quantum mechanics, as described by the physics course taken at your time in Berkeley. You had even taken time out of your academic schedule and did research as a job with some of your professors. All of your Physics teachers concluded that you were extremely qualified and knowledgeable in Physics, and in one of them, being Robert.

Robert had gone on about your time in his class, saying that you were one of his brightest students, whom he had given recommendation should be part of said project. He said he was willing to talk with Berkeley to configure a way for you to leave and graduate on time to come and work on his location. Major Groves said with Robert’s recommendation, he would be pleased to approve your security clearance. Groevs also mentioned that he would give you time to figure out things with you, and also implying, Robert.

Groves had excused himself, leaving you and Robert alone. It had been two years since you two had been alone together, let alone really conversed. You still sit at the desk and look down, not wanting to look at Robert now, admiring your manicured nails in hopes that you wouldn’t chew off the nail polish.

“Thank you, by the way,” You muttered, “You didn’t have to.”

Some things never change, and you look up to see Robert, elearning against the desk as he looks at you, smoking out of a pipe.

“But I did. Not that I ever minded doing so.”

The tension never left, and both of you know it. Bouncing your leg, you lean forward and gather the courage to look at Robert.

“Why? Am I allowed to know why the hell I’m being dragged into this?”

“Y/n, you know I can’t say why. I can say that it is important, as you would say, in the grand scheme of the universe,” Robert explained, “We are small pieces, and this project is a much larger force. A force that can end all wars.”

Confusion still infects you. Some of this makes sense, while other parts do not. You think hard back to the past and Robert’s say on the war and weapons, trying to gather your thoughts on the situation Robert has dragged you into.

“The Germans are out of the war, that’s all I can truly think of,” You mentioned. Once we see Robert lean, your body compels you to lean forward as well, “Is this weapon of mass discussion?”

Robert looked uncomfortable by that saying. He shifts uncomfortably and stands from his desk, slowly making his way over to you. You want to protest and tell him to not, but you gravitate towards his presence. His hair is a little more gray, and he is still cold, but as handsome as ever.

“Call it what you want, but possibly. It’s a weapon to end all wars, ideally, the conflict in the Pacific,” Robert alluded to. You forgot how close he came to his desk. He puts his hands on the edge of the desk and you lean back, looking down. Your cheeks when red, reminding you of your younger days with Robert. Robert’s fingers anxiously curl over the wooden desk top as you let out a soft sigh, containing a noise you did not want to be heard by anyone else.

“There’s something else,” You blurted, “You want me for something else.”

It’s radio silent for a second. Robert’s fingers shift, and you heavily sigh.

“Robert–”

“I want you for your intelligence,” Robert says as a confession. His hands spread against the desk. As much as you try to control yourself, you can’t. Your hands uncurl from your grasp and cover his, grasping them.

“I also wanted you.”

With that, Robert asked to kiss you, and you didn’t even say yes as you jumped from your chair and crashed your lips into his. Nearly falling back, he grabbed you and dragged you to the ground, refusing to let go of your body and lips. It’s desperate and messy, evident that the two of you missed each other's presence. Robert asks to remove your clothes, and you let him do so. Once removing your panties and stockings, he sticks his hard dick into you and fucks you like there is no tomorrow. He covers your mouth as you cry tears of happiness and sadness, sobbing his name. Once he finishes inside of you, you hug him and sob your eyes out. Roberts holds you and says he won’t let go.

Both of you know you have a lot of shit to work through. He had Jean and you had George. Robert knows he’s fucked up, but he still loves you,a nd as much as you don’t want to admit it, you love him as much as he loves you. The whole reason you turned down George was because you still loved Robert. It wasn’t easy for you to forget , and with Robert, he clearly didn’t.

He promised to fix things if you came to Los Alamos with him.

And you did.

You managed to graduate from Berkeley a year early. Groves said that he would write to your family that you were involved in a top secret Government project, promising that he would try to cover your back as much as possible. Once you were out of this project your family would question you, but it wasn’t important. After all, Robert was right; you were small things in the grand scheme of it all.

Los Alamos is hot, cold, and isolating. You are severely depressed, but you are able to manage that with your work and Robert. The work on the bomb is no easy task; it’s full of pressure, arguments, and disagreements. You feel intimidated, surrounded by much older men, whom you feel have more power than you do, despite knowing that you are just as capable as they are. With this stress, Robert is your reliever. Every night, the two of you switch, finding a way to comfort one another in these depressing times.

Now, you live full time with Robert. Nothing is perfect, but the two of you talk and make things work in the best way possible.

You tell him about George and how you turned down his proposal. Robert coldly laughs, saying that you deserved a good man, and that you should have accepted. You said you couldn't because you loved him,a dn as much as Robert thinks you are lying, he loves the honesty that comes from you. It proves to him that when he fucked you, that you were always going to be his. He tells you that he’s cut things off with Jean, promising on his knees that he won’t ever respond to her calls ever again. You force him to promise you or else you’ll leave him. Robert looks like he’s going to sob when you said that, and he repeatedly insists that he will never do such a thing to you ever again.

You snap back to reality when they make an announcement that they will test the bomb in three minutes. The men around you anxiously chatter as they prepare for an explosion. You put on your sunglasses and look around you. You catch Edward Teller, basking in his sun chair with a face smothered in sunscreen and sunglasses. He looks down at you, and you look away into the dark night, anticipating the explosion. Your heart skips a beat, and to pass the time, you sink back into your racing thoughts.

In Between this drama, time passes in Los Alamos. Between the bomb being congested and your relationship with Robert being rebuilt, you fall sick. You’re nauseous, vomiting in the morning and sometimes the day, your period stops, constipation, backaches, you feel like you’re dying. You’re able to hide this from everyone but Robert, who assumes what he thinks it is. One trip to the infirmary confirms that you’re two months pregnant, bordering three.

Initially, you're shocked, but thinking back to the classroom, it all makes sense.

You’re ecstatic, despite being extremely sick. You take time off from your job, and Robert makes sure to tell everyone that you have come down. I'll have a bug and will return within a couple of months. The only people who know about the pregnancy are you, Robert, and the doctor. Robert makes sure to keep the mater private.

Like you, Robert is thrilled at the concept of you having a child. You’re rather young and nervous, but Robert promises to take care of you and your child. No longer can you do things on your own without Robert swooping in; whether that be cooking, cleaning, or even reaching for medicine.

The two of you lay in bed with your feet entangled. Robert caresses your stomach as he has done before, softly going over the small bump forming in your stomach.

“I thought I had been putting on weight,” You bluntly admitted, rolling your shoulders back.

“And even if you were, I would love you the same as I loved you before,” Robert plants a kiss into your hair, gently patting your stomach, “You look as beautiful as ever, love. Even with our child, you’re still so tiny. You’re just as I remembered you-”, His hands grab yours as he interlocks your digits, “-in that classroom at Berkeley. You shook your leg and your skirt rode up. As you bit your lip, I looked, and I fell. I feel hard, y/n. I love you.”

You smile to yourself and close your eyes, squeezing his hand.

“I love you too, Robert.”

“59 seconds until the drop!” A voice booms over the loudspeaker. Anxiety, nerves, and excitement fills the crowd of Sciences, including yourself. You put a hand on your stomach, feeling the flatness. Sometimes, you can still feel that bump. It’s been a long time, but she’s still there, haunting you.

You lose the baby at seven months, and remember there being so much blood and tears. Every night after losing the child, you cried yourself to sleep and apologized to Robert. Robert held you and comforted you at that time. He kissed you and held you close, saying that all was well as long as you were him.

You violently sobbed, thinking back to your days of reading Greek myths at his rental house on Shasta. Just as Hades had given Persephone the seeds for her to say, Robert had impregnated to you and brought you to his desert exile. And like Persephone, you stayed.

Just as tears were beginning to form in your eyes, a light dried the tears right out of your eyes.

At 5:29:45 AM local time, the stillness was shattered by an imperceptible click, triggering the activation sequence of the Trinity bomb.

A brilliant, searing light erupted on the horizon with a radiance unparalleled by any natural phenomenon. The desert floor was instantaneously transformed into a blinding white sea of light, casting stark shadows of the nearby objects. The intensity of the light seemed to defy the boundaries of the human eye, as if a new sun had temporarily usurped the heavens.

A seething ball of fire engulfed the desert in those milliseconds, swelling with ferocious energy. A towering column of smoke and dust spiraled upward, its outline illuminated by the incandescent glow. The ball of fire and the mushroom-shaped cloud of debris swelled and merged into a surreal symphony of colors – brilliant whites, fiery oranges, and deep reds – like a celestial painter's brush strokes across the sky.

Trinity’s detonation unleashed a symphony of destruction that resonated not just across the desert but through history itself. The ground quaked with a seismic force, as though the Earth itself trembled at the unimaginable power harnessed by humanity's newfound knowledge. A resounding shockwave rippled through the air, shattering windows miles away and rattling the bones of those who stood witness.

The sound that followed was a peculiar and haunting one – a low, rumbling roar that bore no resemblance to the traditional thunder or even the roar of an aircraft engine. It was as if the very air had been torn apart and reconstituted into a sound that could only be described as the collective gasp of nature itself, a primordial cry at witnessing its own mastery being tested and defied.

The visual and auditory onslaught seemed to defy the boundaries of perception, leaving spectators both in awe and in terror. The Trinity test had successfully harnessed the fundamental forces of the universe and turned them into a weapon of unimaginable devastation. In the wake of that blinding light and resounding sound, a sense of profound unease settled upon those who bore witness – an understanding that the world had irrevocably changed, and humanity had ventured into a new and uncertain frontier, where the implications of our newfound power were as profound as they were perilous.

The cheers are loud and violent. People are thrilled that those two years of hard work have paid off. They're dancing, drinking, celebrating, and you feel happy, even partaking in such matters.

When the bomb is dropped on Hiroshima, the celebrations truly ensue. The excitement from the test early explodes with raw joy. Everyone knows that the ear is coming to an end as they drink, sing, dance, cheer, and cry. Emotions flood as people celebrate, and you partake in them for a while. As you do, you look for Robert but he’s nowhere to be found. You search within the crowd but you can't identify his pork pie hat or pipe.

Fleeing from the celebrations, you flee to Roberts office. His secretary isn’t there, so you make this way to your office. You find him standing by the window, simply looking at the crowd. As they move, he stands perfectly still. His hat is thrown on the ground and his pipe is thrown on his desk.

“Robert?” You sing-song his name, quietly walking over, “Oppie?”

There’s no response. He’s not acting happy, nor does he look at it. He looks devastated.

His eyes are watery, and you can immediately feel the guilt on his shoulders.

There’s no need for words as you walk over and crash into Robert. His arms wrap around you and with that, he quietly cries into your shoulder, sinking with you into the carpeted ground.

#carrie writes #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #oppenheimer x reader #robert j oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer x reader #robert j oppenheimer #oppenheimer

191 notes · View notes

infinitegalahad · 1 year ago

Text

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 4

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Indentifying! Reader

Summary: The implication was subtle, yet the weight was felt. Your shoulder tensed as you pursed your lips, dropping your plate into the sink. You knew, and so did Robert. It was blatant.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Sorta poorly written smut (i'm a virgin guys it's very obvious my expiernece is well..smut) and praise kink and a slight virginity/purity kink.

Notes: Hardest part of posting this? The writing, naw. Finding the perfect hot gif of the father of the atomic bomb? Yah! Oh boy...folks, it's here! Baby's first actual smut. I know I sound like a broken record, but seriously y;all, your support is absolutely amazing thank you so much for it! You keep me not just writing, but happy and afloat. Today has been nuts, so I was glad I could get this out. It's my first smut, so sorry if it's not good. This is the last part of the first part of the series, Ch.5 will move more into Los Almos, the bomb, and Kitty and Jean. Trouble will start brewing in paradise, the drama is en route! As you can tell, cliffhangers are my kind of thing #imunwell

Taglist: @forgottenpeakywriter @queenshelby @kodzuvk

Taglist | Masterlist

Dinner is a mostly silent affair.

Minus the clattering of cutlery and soft puffs of cigarette smoke, you and Robert are silent. You notice the furtive gazes from Robert that scan your body. Crossing your legs and crumpling your napkin in your lap, you hope not to be noticed yet, at the same time, be noticed since the attention makes you feel aroused.

You take up your plate, and as you are about to wash it, you feel that Robert is going to speak, which he does.

“Your gift is upstairs in the bedroom if you wish to want it.”

The implication was subtle, yet the weight was felt. Your shoulder tensed as you pursed your lips, dropping your plate into the sink.

You knew, and so did he. It was blatant.

Once you finish washing your hands, you walk by Robert, refusing to look down at him. You want to look, but the heavy sensation in your lower area skips whenever you see him. You can feel his intense stare on your back as you walk by.

“I’ll be in the living room,” He says as if it’s a reminder.

You stop by the kitchen door and turn to look back, but you resist the burning desire.

The house is small enough to navigate, and you find yourself in Robert’s bedroom. It’s mundane and straightforward; a bed, a nightstand with books, and an ashtray, a dresser with cigarette boxes. Minus these menial things, there’s the pink satin bag from earlier on the edge of his bed. You walk over and sit down, grabbing the bag and taking out the paper.

It revealed a box, in which, in your arousal, you nearly tore up. Once you placed the box and bag down on the ground, you gently removed the surprise; lingerie.

It wasn’t really a surprise, but you pretended it to be such for the anticipation of it. The material is silk, and you make sure to be extremely careful with the material. The Lingerie is a satin navy two piece; a a sheer bralettle that would define your nipples and lacey knickers that could looked like they would barley cover your bum. Your thumb plays with the soft satin as your face goes red, knowing what will come between you and Robert.

Sliding into the soft material, you check yourself out in the material. It’s the most skin you have ever shown to a man. The shorts cling to your thighs, and the bralette accentuates your nipples. A close look and your privates were revealed, covered by a sheer sheet of satin. You loosen your hair and fluff in, anxiously rubbing your hands together; you didn’t want to keep for long, knowing that Robert was just as aroused as you were.

You slowly ascend down the stairs to the living room, illuminated by a fire that Robert lit while you were changing. A mesmerizing dance of flickering flames unfolds within the fireplace, casting a warm, comforting glow that envelops the room. You spot Robert on the couch, and he is reading the preface to one of the Greek myths you picked out in Sausalito.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you step into the living room, the captivating ambiance of the dancing flames drawing you in like a moth to a gentle fire. The soft light casts an enchanting aura, accentuating the delicate features of the room and adding a touch of mystique to the moment. Your gaze finds Robert seated on the couch, engrossed on the preface of the Greek myth you had chosen in Sausalito. The flicker of firelight dances across his features, casting intriguing shadows that play upon his countenance.

As you take a cautious step forward, the sound of a closing book reaches your ears, causing a shiver to traverse your spine. The air feels charged with palpable energy as you wrap your arms around yourself, an instinctual gesture that adds to the allure of the scene you're entering.

Your steps are slow, deliberate, every movement conveying a mix of vulnerability and intent. Each footfall on the soft carpet is a rhythm that mirrors the steady beat of your heart, a drumroll leading up to the moment of connection. The distance between you and Robert seems to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of his magnetic pull.

As you draw nearer, the firelight and shadows play upon your form, casting alluring patterns upon your skin. His gaze roams your body, a smoldering intensity that ignites a spark of longing within you. The anticipation becomes a tangible force, binding you both in a shared unspoken understanding. The room seems to hold its breath, the air thick with a mixture of desire and the timeless allure of the moment.

Robert's attention is drawn away from the pages as he puts out his cigarette, acknowledging your presence with a glance that sends a ripple of warmth through your veins. His gaze meets yours, and the intensity within his eyes is like a current that pulls you closer, your heart pounding in response. The weight of his gaze is electrifying, and for a brief moment, he seems to hold his breath in awe, sharing the same desire that lingers in the air.

"My beauty," Robert breathed, his gaze tracing the contours of your form with an intensity that sends a flutter through your chest. His voice, a velvety timbre that seems to wrap around the very atmosphere, spills forth in a cascade of words that hold the power to mesmerize.

With a tender touch that speaks volumes, he gently removes your arms and puts them by your side, presenting your nearly nude body to him. His fingers envelop your skin in a caress that ignites a spark of warmth. As he holds your arms, his touch is both a physical reassurance and a silent proclamation of his admiration.

"Your presence is just as I imagined," he continues, his voice a whispered promise that hangs in the air, "it's like a beacon that draws me in. Raw beauty in his most natural form."

His grasp tightens, in which you bite your lip too. Your hand rest on his chest, unable to form coherent thoughts, lost within a hazy gaze of arousal.

“Oppie,” is all you manage with a soft breath equivalent to a moan, feeling like you could sink into his hold.

Robert holds you and guides you to the couch. Your hand remains in his as he picks up one of the myths to examine it.

“I began to read the preface of Hades and Persephone. I understand this one you were highly fond of,” Robert pronounced as he looked at you. For a brief second, his eyes once again captured your body, and he looked at you like you were an angel.

“Would you like to read this one?”

Gently smacking your lips together, you nod your head, “Yes. Quite frankly, I think it would best suit the current mood.”

Subtle communication is a form of love between you. Only you two can understand it. Despite its actual meaning not being viral, it echoes within the room between you two.

Something flickers in Robert’s eyes as he sits down on the couch, bringing you to sit on his lap. Curling up on his side as you rest on his thigh, you grab the book as he snakes his hands around your stomach. He takes a long breath and throws back his head, savoring your smooth skin. The side of your thigh feels something move within his pelvic part. You were not experienced, but you knew that was an erection. The sheer thought of his made you both nervous and excited. It had hit you that this was no longer a fantasy; it was very much indeed a reality.

You clear your throat and open the book, trying to distract from Robert’s not-so-private erection bumping into the outer part of your thigh. Robert lets out a long sigh and leans forward, his chin resting on your shoulder with his nose in your hair. As he sniffs your perfume, his hands draw those mindless patterns into your stomach, making you slightly shift your feet in excitement.

“Read to me,” He purred into your hair.

Biting your lip to contain a noise you were embarrassed to make, you open the book and begin reading with a slight stutter.

“It was a beautiful day like all the others in this land, the sun shone brightly in the sky, the hills were lush and green, and flowers blossomed from the earth. The lovely young maiden, Persephone, frolicked with her friends upon the hillside, as her mother Demeter sat near by, and her father Zeus peered down from the sky above. Laughter could be heard in between the young girls' whispered secrets, as they gathered handfuls of purple crocuses, royal blue irises and sweet-smelling hyacinths. Persephone thought to bring some to her mother, but was soon distracted by a vision of the most enchanting flower she had ever seen. It was a narcissus, the exact flower her father hoped that she would find. As she reached down to pluck it from its resting place, her feet began to tremble and the earth was split in two. Life for Persephone would never be the same again.”

Robert’s breath hitches against your ear. With one hand you hold the book and the other resting onto of Roberts, stroking his palm.

“From this gaping crevice in the ground emerged the awe-inspiring God of the Underworld, Hades, and before Persephone could even think to utter a word, she was whisked off her feet onto the God's golden chariot. As the crack of the whip upon his majestic horses brought her to her senses, she realized she was about to taken into the black depths from which he'd come. The thought of this brought terror to her heart, yet any screams of protest were soon lost within the darkness, as they descended quickly into the Underworld below.

“While Persephone's cries could not be heard above the ground, the pain in Demeter's heart quickly alerted her to the fact that something was terribly wrong. She searched high and low for her dear daughter, who had vanished from both the heavens and the earth. Consumed by depression over the loss of her child, she soon ceased to remember her worldly duties as Goddess of Grain and Growth. As she watched the plants wither and die all around her, she felt her own hopes begin to fade as well. At the same time, deep down in the realm of the dead, Hades hoped to explain his actions to the sweet Persephone. Professing his love, he told her of the plan her father helped deploy and begged her to stay and be his wife. Yet, Persephone longed for something more, the comforts of her mother's home and a view of the lush green grass and blue sky up above.”

Reading these words, a realization hits you. Something about this myth resonates not just with you, but with Robert. Hades and Persephone are death and regenration embodided. Is that what you and Robert are; death and life drawn together in your ever chaning world. The gifts, the flowers, the poemnegrates, the sweet nicknames, it was all to drag you in. At first you couldn’t bare accept. But now? You didn’t know if you agreed with your past self.

“Yet it didn't take long for Demeter's happiness to be replaced with rage, as she recalled the disappearance of her daughter. She flew to the home of Zeus and demanded that Persephone be found at once. She also questioned every immortal she could find and eventually uncovered Zeus' plot. In an attempt to appease Demeter's growing anger, he dispatched a messenger to retrieve their daughter from the depths.”

“Upon his entry to the Underworld, the messenger Hermes was amazed at what he found. Instead of finding a frail and fearful Persephone, he found a radiant and striking Queen of the Dead. She had adjusted well to her new position, saying she had even found her calling. The Goddess was now in charge of greeting the new arrivals and helping them adapt to their new life. While she wished to see her mother up above, she was torn by her desire to remain Hades' wife.”

Your past thoughts and sudden releevations were proven by the text. Your breath shudders as you feel one of Robert’s hand inch up your chest, similar to last time. Instead of siquriming, you sink within his hold. Your hand topples his as you guide him to your breast, letting his hand protrude on your linergie to gently caress and grasp your breast.

A moan escpaesd your lips as you lean back, feeling Robert squeeze your nipples. He calms his touch as he resorts to stroking the edge of your breast, letting you continue to the climax of the myth.

“Hoping to comfort Persephone in her confusion, Hades came to his Queen's side. He gently kissed her forehead and urged her, "Do not fret, eat instead from this fruit I know you will like." As she pressed the red pomegranate seeds to her lips, she listened to his words. He told her he would miss her very much, but her duties as a daughter mattered too. So, she climbed into the chariot and bid her husband farewell, as Hermes sped them off to the middle realm of mother earth, the home of her devoted mother.

You saw the last two paragraphs of the myth, also seeing Robert’s hand make it’s way down your stomach to your short. Your hand guides him slowly and gently to your womanhood.

“The flowers sang joyfully of her return, while her mother beamed with pride. Yet, the child that she had born and raised had changed while she was gone. She had grown into a goddess, one both beautiful and wise and the more that Demeter inquired about her experiences below, the more she came to worry that the life they knew was gone. She recalled a declaration Zeus had made from the heavens up above: in order for Persephone to return to the home and life she had known, the young goddess must be as pure as the day she left her mother's side. However, the ruby stain upon her lips spoke of the beauty's fate. Persephone had tasted of the fruit of life. It could not be erased.”

Robert buries his nose into your shoulder with his hand stopping at the edge of your pants. He hesitates, afraid to hurt you. But you know, and feel, that Robert would never do such a thing. You push his hand towards the waistband on your knickers, sliding Robert’s hand down your knickers and towards a place that no man was ever touched until now.

“Even so, Zeus loved his daughter too much to send her back to Hades without the hope of returning to her mother's abode above. So, each spring Persephone comes back with the flowers that pave her way, to tell the story of rebirth, hope and harmony. And each fall when she leaves again for the Underworld below, her mother mourns and winter comes, while she waits for her return. Yet, for Persephone there is no remorse. She looks forward to the time she spends as Hades' Queen and wife, and to guiding those who have lost their way to the next phase of their life.”

You let out a sigh and threw the book down. It blocked your view of Robert’s hand down your navy knickers. You hold his arm and go red, goosebumps hovering over your skin with his electric touch.

“Y/n, sweetling,” Robert coles into your ear. His fingers are like a ghost, hovering over the curls of your rapidly moistening vulva, waiting for your approval, “Speak to me. Tell me.”

“Robert,” You arch your head back to plant a peck on his forehead, “Please.”

“It will hurt since it’s your first. If it does, please tell me,” Robert, in his most vulnerable state, begs you.

You hum and bring your foreheads together, giving him the green light. “If it hurts, I rather it is with you, Robert. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

Your words made Robert choke on his breath as his hand traveled his way through your curls, finding your vulva. He circles the area around your finger, seeing you stretch back, digging a hand into the side of his salt and pepper hair. Placing a kiss on your cheek, his finger enters your clitoris.

Letting out a curse, you arch your back like a cat as you let out a noise you wouldn’t want anyone to hear but Robert.

“You’re so tight,” Robert says into your hair. His finger moves around, causing the nerves from your vaginal wall to give goosebumps of joy. He smirks as his hand on your stomach brings you back closer to him. “You kept it all for me to unwrap. How sweet of you.

“More,” You breath as you softly grind his thigh.

He hums and asks, “More?”

“More, please. Pretty please.”

Your beg makes him chuckle as you feel another finger circling around your clitoris.

“Another? Are you sure?”

Another shockwave rides up your body, making you rapidly nod your head. The second finger circles your hole, but Robert doesn’t insert it yet.

“Words, sweetling.”

“Yes, yes, please. Pleas-”

As the second finger enters your clitoris, you gasp and scrunch your toes and fingers, the ecstasy running through your veins.

“Oppie,” You moan his name, which makes his erection move below you. He fingered you for the next few minutes, a gentle rhythm dancing inside you. It hurts initially, but the pain subsides as Robert’s fingers mold to your insides. A creamy substance leaks from your vagina, covering Roberts’ and. He eventually removes his pale hand covered by a pale substance. You take his hand and bring it to your face, admiring what is your reaction for your desire and love for Robert.

“Can I?” You turn to Robert, looking at his cum over his fingers.

Robert’s breath hitches and he nods and leans back. He watches you suck on his finger, licking and inhaling the cum. He strokes your hair and leans back, soaking in the experience. Once you finish, he grabs your chin to admire you. Your faces and bodies are illuminated by the fire, which shows both of your burning desires for one another.

“You are a beautiful creature, y/n,” He confesses, wiping a bit of cum from your lip, dragging your lip down.

“You’re handsome,” You reply to his compliment by giving one to him. Your hand goes to the collar of his shirt, signaling for him to undress so you can truly get down to business.

The two of you help undress each other. As carefully as you put on the bralette and shorts, Robert slides them off and throws them onto the loveseat. You, too, help him undress; helping unbutton his shirt and unbuckle his belt. He slides down his pants and underwear, revealing his throbbing erection. It was a suprie to you, for such a slender spectre-looking man, his cock was large; fluids running down the tip. He’s got a faint trail of hair that goes up to his stomach, which makes your womanhood feel like a lush paradise.

Robert moves you in front of the far, far enough not to get burned but close enough to be warmed. He handles you with the delicacy of a china doll, resting your body on the carpet. Your arms fall behind you as his hand grabs one of yours, with the other resting on the indent of your waist. Robert climbs onto of you, sitting ontop of your area as he admires your body, a soft and genuine smile on his lips.

“Look at you,” He said in awe, “You are more beautiful than in my dreams. I knew you would be. Your simply perfect.”

“There is no true perfect person, Robert.” You blush and softly giggle.

“I’m afraid that is a lie, y/n. You are.”

His erect cock rest on the inner part of your thigh, edging towards your vagina.

“Are you sure you want this?” Robert asks, his tone still loving but also serious. For the first time this night, he looks hesitant. Scared, even, “Are you sure you want this to be with someone such as me?”

To soothe Robert’s nerves, you bring a hand to cup the side of his cheek. It’s a small physical touch that you known drives Robert mad. He sighs and leans into your touch, closing his eyes as he basks in your sweet touch.

“Of course, Robert. I want it to be you. I’ve wondered for so long of who it would be to do this. And Robert, well, it’s you. It’s always been you. I knew it when I first saw you. And now I want it more then ever. So Robert please, be the one to take me.” You gently confess.

He opens his eyes and covers your hand on his cheek.

“I’ll feed you my seed, Persephone,” Robert purred, a tint of possession to his voice, “And then? You’ll be mine.”

His member neared your wet vagina. He heistated, awaiitng for your nod.

You never had nodded faster in your life; it felt like you were dependent on the touch of his cock. Robert made sure to give you the thing you were most craved and wanted; which was him.

He fucks you infront of the fire. At first, it hurts. He’s very gentle, whispering kind words as you cry in both pleasure and pain. He slowly grinds against you as as you bury your hands into his hair, digging your nails deep through his hair. Robert cooes into your ear, calling you his deity and his Persephone. As he hungirly humps against you all while holding your hand and saying sweet words of pet names and reassurance, it leaves you to think.

Through the humping, moans, and grunts, the myth you could barely read earlier comes to mind. In your story, your Persephone, and he’s Hades. Like how Hades took Persephone from her world, Robert snatched you from your crowd at Berkeley. Not that you felt satisfied within it, but he took you every Friday and weekend into his home and world, keeping you among him and spoiling and adoring you as a way for you to fall in love with him. You did fall for him, but a part of you hesitated. Robert was thirty five and you were freshly eighteen. The age dfiference and power imbalance was more then evident.

But now, you were able to look past that.

Like Hades had done to Persephone, he gave her the seed to keep her to him.

Robert had done the same to you, his warm cum feeling inside of your aching stomach.

With a heavy exhale, Robert fell beside your, gathering you in his arms. He holds you close, and like it’s routine, return the favor and curl into him.

Hatomi was right; the theory of social change perfectly applies to you.

Time passes, and within that tie, you and Robert lay together nude in front of the fire. After cleaning you, he fetches one of your Greek Myths and a cigarette. The two of you share puffs from the cigarette as he reads the tale of Prometheus to you. Robert holds himself up with one arm, the other wrapped around your waist, his hand resting on your stomach. You stare into the fire, stroking his hand that rubs your stomach, listening to his velvety voice read the myth.

“After the Olympian gods emerged victorious, Zeus tasked Prometheus and Epimetheus with creating humans and giving them unique qualities. Epimetheus, meaning "afterthought," began distributing various attributes among the animals, giving each species-specific traits to survive in the world. However, when it came to humans, he had given away all the positive qualities to animals, leaving humans vulnerable and defenseless,” Robert read the paper as he stroked your hair, “Prometheus to intervene. He stole fire from the gods and gave it to humanity, along with other gifts such as knowledge, craftsmanship, and agriculture. Fire symbolized not only warmth and light but also technological advancement and the ability to cook food, which was crucial for human development. Prometheus shaped humanity out of clay or mud–”

A piece of wood falls in the fire, and you curl your knees into your stomach.

“–and Athena breathed life into his clay figures.”

#carrie writes #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #j robert oppenheimer #oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer x reader #oppenheimer

199 notes · View notes

infinitegalahad · 1 year ago

Text

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 3

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: Your relationship with Robert grows stronger and much more intimate. While he is a man of experience, you are not. However, Robert has no issue in helping you explore. Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: First-time touches prove to be a little overwhelming for the reader in the beginning but are 100% addressed and consensual. This is a minor piece of the story. Notes: This chapter and the next one were planned as one big chunk, but I separated them. Since A, I haven't written the other half, and B, I loveeee cliffhangers! Also, once again, thank you so much for the support! It keeps me going. And don't worry, the next chapter will be here veryyyyyy soon! It should hopefully be worth the wait :D Taglist | Masterlist

Fall in the West is far different from what it is in the Northeast.

There’s a breeze but not a chill in the air. The sun is still warm, yet not as warm as it is in the summer months, which is enough for sweater weather to commence. You thanked your mother for shipping out some of your fall wear. While you knew you had the money to buy new clothes, you saw no need as most of them were hand-me-downs from your older sister, who was seven years older. The two of you differed in fashion, and you thought some of the sweaters made you look older.

But Robert–sometimes Oppie–said the sweaters made you look kept. In fact, he said he liked them because he could see the curve of your “gorgeous, nymphet” figure. He said that to you as you sat on his knee while a hand slowly ran down the side of your hip and down onto your thigh, inches from the hem of your skirt.

Maybe they didn’t look old.

Hatomi had been used to these falls, which were usually for you. One Fall afternoon, your classes had finished, and you two wanted to study in a space outside the library and outdoors. The Hearst Mining Circle was the perfect place to do so. So you both grabbed your books and a blanket to sit on the grass and study, basking in the outdoors. Hatomi read one of her American History textbooks as you copied down equations from your Physics textbooks. The edge of the page had been crumpled previously from one of your sessions with Robert. He had snuck behind you, pressing small pecks from the side of your neck down as you explained the existence of Black Holes.

The sheer thought made you grab the side of your neck and nurse it. You turned to see Hatomi; her nose stuck in her textbook. Turning over, you watched people walk down the paved walkway, ranging from socializing students, faculty children, and busy teachers. Eyeing for a distraction, you scaled the walkway, and somehow, in looking for what you did not want to think about, you found Robert.

Robert stood outside the Physics building, smoking a cigarette, chatting and congregating with other science professors. As he chatted with his fellow science professors, his laughter resonated through the air like a melody, inviting those nearby to share in the camaraderie. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened when he laughed, adding a touch of charm to his rugged handsomeness. The wind blew away the bottom of his jacket, showing the white Oxford shirt that clung to his skin.

A cigarette dangled casually from his fingers, wisps of smoke curling into the air around him, adding an almost cinematic quality to the scene. The way he held the cigarette, an effortless gesture, enhanced his allure as if the act was imbued with intrigue. The tendrils of smoke danced around him, almost like an extension of his presence, creating an enigmatic halo that further piqued your fascination.

You found yourself unable to tear your gaze away, captivated by the sight of him. His hands moved gracefully as he spoke, emphasizing his words with subtle gestures that only added to the magnetism he emanated. The ruggedness of his appearance was balanced by a gentleness in his eyes, a combination that held your attention like a moth drawn to a flame. His handsome features, framed by the sunlight and the curls of smoke, seemed to encompass a world of intellect, charm, and mystery. It was a fleeting moment, an unguarded glimpse into his world, yet it left an indelible impression long after he had moved on.

“Y/n, this is what I’m talking about,” Hatomi explained as she plopped herself next to you, pointing to some page in her textbook. While you listened, you found it hard to tear your eyes off your handsome and regal professor.

“The Theory of Social Change says that everything and everyone, in different times, all fall into the same universe and repeat themselves within four cycles; The High", "The Awakening", "The Unraveling" and "The Crisis."

–

Since Hatomi told you about the Theory of Social Change, you began to ponder if you and Robert, with whatever you had, were prime examples of this.

Your cycle continued, and minus the newfound acknowledged mutual pining, nothing had changed. You went to his house, skimmed the idea of Physics if needed, ate dinner, and then kissed and cuddled until the late hours of the night. Most of your “meetings'' ended up finishing on Robert’s couch. Other than the multiple cigarette buds on the ashtray and empty martini glasses on the coffee table, you would end up entangled on top of Robert. His hands would rest on your back or hair, gently stroking both. Sometimes, he’d be smoking a cigarette; other times, he’d worship you like a goddess as he decorated your body in soft kisses.

These small instances of affection did not continue to go away. You enjoyed them just as much as Robert did. It took you time to adjust to seeing him outside of his house and inside of the academic setting. After he had kissed you, which was your first kiss ever, locking eyes with him was difficult—seeing him as just your Physics Professor instead of a poetic, lustful older man who confessed that he used the meetings to help you and get to know you more.

In a scene infused with an air of both familiarity and affection, Robert's voice carries across the room like a gentle melody, beckoning the reader with a tender summons.

"Sweetling," he murmurs, the endearment a whispered promise of comfort and connection. His arms unfold, a silent invitation that spans the distance between them, transforming the couch into a sanctuary of shared moments.

Your heart flutters at his call. A sense of intimacy envelops as you waltz over and ease into the space beside Robert, nestling against his side as if drawn by the irresistible force of his presence.

As they settle into the embrace of the couch, a soft sigh escapes the reader's lips, a sigh that resonates with the comfort of being in his proximity. Like a pair of puzzle pieces finding their perfect fit, your bodies mold together seamlessly. The warmth of his frame envelops her, an encompassing cocoon that soothes away the troubles of the world beyond.

A hand is extended, its touch a promise of connection that transcends the physical realm. Your fingers interlace with effortless synchrony, your hand finding its place upon Robert's chest. Beneath your palm, the rhythmic beat of his heart reverberates like a melody of shared emotions. His hand finds yours, enveloping it in a gentle squeeze—a wordless affirmation of your bond.

You can make out the sound of Tchaikovsky from Robert’s record player as his hand moves from your back to your stomach. His hand sneaks under your cardigan, drawing mindless shapes onto your stomach.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Robert questions.

You look up to see Robert is looking forward and not as you. Seeing this, you rest your head back on his shoulder.

“Nothing much besides sleeping. Why ask?”

In the quiet intimacy of the moment, Robert's voice carries a weight of sincerity that resonates through the air. With a touch both firm and tender, his hand rests upon your stomach, the sensation of his touch causing a soft flutter within. The thin cotton of your shirt yields to the gentle pressure of his fingers, creating a sensation that dances between comfort and connection.

"I want to take you out to Sausalito," he declares, his words wrapped in a sincerity that leaves no room for doubt, “Go for lunch and then shop for you.”

The prospect he offers feels like an invitation into a world where his presence is a guiding star, a promise of shared experiences and cherished memories. As his words unfurl, a sense of belonging blossoms in the space between you.

The subtle shift in his touch carries a hint of possessiveness, a claim that evokes both a giggle and a flush of color across your cheeks. Your connection with him deepens, your heart dancing to a melody that only the two of you share. His pride, wrapped around his words like a velvet ribbon, tugs at the strings of your own emotions.

“Oppie,” A playful slap lands upon his arm, a mock protest to his proposition, “People will see you; they’ll see us. They will know.”

The underlying sentiment is clear - the world's gaze could fall upon the two of you, and the reality of being seen together in public sets your cheeks aflame with a delightful shyness. But in his presence, the hesitations and external considerations seem to hold less weight than the simple joy of being with him.

As you giggle and tease, his grip becomes a deliberate caress, his thumb tracing tender circles against your skin. The fabric of your shirt becomes a barrier that barely impedes the sensation of his touch, and the way he scrunches the fabric only seems to amplify the intimacy of the moment. His voice, a timbre laced with newfound intensity, murmurs, "I want you by my side. I want to show you, y/n."

The unspoken allure between you deepens as his desire becomes palpable. The words he utters hold a double meaning, a claim that encompasses both the invitation to accompany him and the electrifying spark that courses between you. His possessive undertone, magnetic and primal, sends a thrill down your spine, igniting a fire that flares within the confines of your connection.

The blush on your cheeks takes on a new hue, a mixture of shyness and the intoxicating realization that you're affecting him in this very moment. You feel his gaze upon you, an ardent flame that strips away pretenses and bares your vulnerabilities. The sensation of his fingers against your skin becomes an echo of a deeper connection, a touch that ignites a firestorm of desire in both of you.

"Oppie," you cooed, this time with a subtle hint of breathlessness. His name, a whispered plea, seems to fan the flames of his desire. The weight of his possessiveness, interwoven with the age gap and a burgeoning passion, adds a layer of complexity to the bond you share. The unapologetic way he wants you, the unfiltered truth behind his words, sends a jolt of heat through your veins.

Robert bends his head to catch your lips as he begins to suck at them passionately. A noise escapes as his lips engulf yours. His hand travels down your stomach and stops at the end of your shirt. His lean fingers crawl under your skirt and up to your lower waist, where his cool fingers touch the soft stomach of your skin. Much to your dismay, a soft moan escapes your mouth. Robert hums to himself as he tastes you, his hand slowly caressing your hip. His hands are cold, yet warmth feeds onto your skin.

His hand progressively moves up and now rests under your boob. His thumb draws circles, edging towards the line under your bra. No man had ever gotten this close, let alone touched you like this. Robert was the first and only to do so. His touch was gentle and possessive, and as much as he pleased you, it was all too much at once. Everything began to overwhelm you; Robert, the age difference, the power dynamic, and its imbalance all hit like a train.

“Robert,” You cried as your legs uncomfortably shifted.

Immediately, he removed his hand from under your skirt. You crawled away from his side and breathed heavily, running a hand through your hair. Your legs began to shake, and you could somewhat contain the sudden rush of anxiety.

“Y/n?” Robert called your name, worry evident in his voice. He dared not move over, but he held out his hand, “Sweetling, did I hurt you?”

As he rubbed his temples, he stumbled on his words, “Forgive me, please. I lost myself there. I forgot that you are less experienced than I am.”

Your arms wrap around your body as you look at Robert, who looks like a wounded animal. The thought of hurting you devastated Robert, and it was evident in his body language.

“Robert, I’m okay,” You assure him as you stand with your arms still wrapped around you. At a loss for words, you shake your head and head to the kitchen to gather your coat and bag.

“I’m just rather tired. It’s been a long week. I can assure you it’s nothing with you. I’ve just been,” As you put your coat on and grab your bag to exit the kitchen, you see Robert standing in the doorway. He stares at you as his hands smoothen down the material on his pants. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he holds himself back, not knowing if it’s the right thing to say or do.

“Conflicted. That’s all.”

You fastly walk by him, brushing against his side. He turns to watch you walk to the doors. Just as your hand grabs the knob, Robert speaks.

“Sausalito. Not San Francisco or Berkeley, Sausalito. I’ll take you there tomorrow in the morning. We can spend the morning there if you wish to be seen with me.”

While your hand remains on the knob, you look back at Robert, sinking into your coat collar to hide your blush.

“I do wish to be seen with you. I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Oppie.”

“Goodnight, sweetling.”

–

That very next morning, Oppie keeps to his promise. You arrive at his house, and he’s in his Cadillac, awaiting your arrival. You smile and climb in, greeted by a peck to the cheek. Oppenheimer’s smoking another cigarette, and while he looks happy to see you, he still seems bothered by last night. You tell him to forget about it, but he shakes his head, saying he should know better.

He brings this up again as you finish driving over the Richmond Bridge, close to Sausalito.

“A man my age, especially with someone as young as you, should know to control himself,” Robert muttered, keeping his eyes on the road, “But since you’re so, well, beautiful, I just..”

“Robert, I insist it’s no issue-”

“But it was. You yelped. I never wish to see you afraid of me, y/n.”

“I yelped because I was shocked, that is all.”

“You wanted me to stop, but I didn’t,” He admitted, “I was not thinking with my head, y/n.”

Although he didn’t explicitly state the phrase after, it was enough for you to piece it together. Robert knew how inexperienced you were. Just a month ago, you had your first kiss with a man a little over a decade older than you, who so lovingly happened to be your Physics professor. Your mind replayed the events of last night. You had enjoyed his touch, but it was too much at once. While Robert was gentle, he moved too fast for you, and you didn’t have the courage to say it to him. The last thing you wanted to do was make Robert angry at you, and as much as you wanted to say this, you didn’t know if it was the right time, let alone how to phrase it.

Last night, you lay in bed, running a hand under your shirt, pretending it was Robert’s hand. The imagination was a powerful force but could only do so much.

As Robert parked the car, you sighed and looked forward, fidgeting with your hands.

“I understand, Robert. But let me say that, honestly, I enjoyed your touch. It was a lot, but it brought me pleasure, and–” You quickly find a way to say what you want, “--I do want to explore this later. But for now, I want to put this behind us. You said you wanted to dine and shop for me, which I would love to do now. Can we do that, please?”

Robert looked over with a conflicted look. He looked takeback, trying to hide a smile of pleasure, relief, and joy. There was a hint of lust in his eyes as well. But after all, that was for later.

“Thank you for that, y/n. And yes, we can,” Robert said with relief.

Robert opened the car door and helped you out of the Cadillac, his touch lingering longer than it usually did.

After you two got lunch at a restaurant that Robert said his friend recommended, some French Cafe on the water, he asked if you had certain stores you wanted to go to. You shrugged your shoulders, saying you were more than happy to follow him where he took you.

The two of you walked close side by side. In the crowd of ongoing bypassers, questions raced within your mind. What if someone knew you were from Berkeley, seeing you waltz along with your professor? Robert looked much older than you, and you barely looked like an adult. Older men had always been a fantasy of yours, but when that was turned into a reality, it was both a curse and a blessing. All of the issues that you had to avoid in your fantasy, you were forced to confront in real life. Hopefully, not soon or ever.

Robert reached to grab your hand and held it close, bringing you slightly closer to him.

“Settle down,” Robert squeezed your hand, “No one knows but you and me.”

You gulped and contained a sigh as you leaned into Robert. Looking for a distraction, you looked at some of the store windows. Some of the stuff was too bright or expensive, but you did catch a beautiful black purse. It was a Chanel Black leather crossbody with a simple, elegant golden chain. You had seen some of the girls at Berkeley with them. For what reason they needed it, you did not know, but you simply admired it. You made a note to ask for your parents for Christmas.

Robert saw you eye-shopping and stopped in his tracks. He leaned down to whisper in your ear if you wanted that purse. You shook your head, saying your purse was perfectly fine, ignoring that you had complained to him a week ago that your books were breaking the bottom of your bag.

Robert ignored you and bought the purse, despite your pleas for him not to.

“Thank you,” You politely grumble, crossing your arms like a petulant child. You can hide how red your cheeks are from him, “Robert, I did not need that. You know what.”

“I do know that you did need a new bag,” Robert pointed out. He smiled to himself, a small boost to his ego, “It made you smile. I should also find you a new outfit to match the bag. Something elegant and dark.”

“Where would I be carrying that expensive bag? To class?”

“To events with me, along with the expensive clothes and perfumes I plan to decorate you in,” Robert cooed to you, “Fine things for a fine girl.”

You blushed and leaned into his shoulder, sighing and shaking your head. “Well, I suppose I should look down so you don’t buy me anything else.”

“I’m afraid that won’t work, dear. You have a tendency to blush at the slightest of things.”

At that moment, you couldn’t tell if you wanted to smack or kiss Robert in his stupidly, hauntingly handsome face.

After some more shopping, Robert dropped you off at a bookstore. He said he needed to run a quick errand but told you to pick out whatever you wanted from the store. He said he would be back and pick out some books for you and, if you wish, to pick one for him. With a kiss on your head, he promised not to be gone for long, his hand lingering on the side of your arm.

You had been trying to get Robert into Greek mythology for the longest time. He introduced you to Hinduism through the Bhagavad Gita. He could talk about it for hours on end as he felt you. Feeling the need to return the favor, all while being held by Robert, you picked out a few of your favorite classics; Prometheus and Athena, Cupid and Psyche, and Hades and Persephone. There were plenty more you could have chosen, a part of you knowing Robert would buy every book you wanted.

Just as you tried to reach for one, a hand behind you reached for it and grabbed it. You looked behind and saw Oppenheimer examine the cover of the book.

“The Odyssey,” Robert read out the cover and turned the book, “Have you read it?”

“Twice. Once in school, and once with my father,” You replied, watching Robert open the book. As he skimmed, you leaned on his arm to read along in the book. Robert took notice and subtly leaned into you, “I think you’d like it.”

“If you like it, I’ll love it.”

You hummed and smiled to yourself, looking down at the pink bag Robert held. Quirking an eyebrow, you asked, “What exactly did you buy me?”

“You’ll see once we get home,” Robert promised, his hand finding the way to the small of your back. He pulled you close to his side. You looked up at him and smiled at his sheepish grin, which hid something devilish.

“Before you get to enjoy your gift, let me buy your books and the Iliad.”

“And then what?”

Robert’s hand rests on your hips as he brings his lips to your ear, slightly lighting you up to whisper into your ear.

“And then we can enjoy.”

#carrie writes #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #j robert oppenheimer #oppenheimer #robert j oppenheimer x reader #oppenheimer x reader

253 notes · View notes

infinitegalahad · 1 year ago

Text

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 2

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Indentifying! Reader Summary: You and Robert fall into a routine of your Friday Physics meetings with the never skipped dinner after. But as the tension grows stronger, the meetings suddenly cease to be about Physics with a newfound realization; and sudden change Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: N/A Notes: GOD, HE LOOKS SO HOT THERE!!! Anyways! Not even twenty-four hours later. I know, I'm very unwell and couldn't help myself. Thank you so much for all the love and support so much! The next part should be coming out very soon. And let me say, it may or may not get spicy *insert evil cackling*. I am also working on a new and refined masterlist! It'll be linked here, along with a taglist if you are interested.

Masterlist | Taglist

The image of you and Robert formed, and your Friday afternoon meetings with him soon became a little routine between the two of you. However, this barrier created a bond and broke through the force of physics into something else.

You would always arrive ten minutes before, and Robert certainly noticed this. He enrolled you in watering his flowers outside, which you had no issue doing. Robert insisted on paying you ten dollars, which you felt guilty for taking. Every Friday, when you walk down Shasta Road, the flowers are more giant in bloom, full and radiant in their muted colors. Robert had even put a tiny vase of pomegranate flowers on his desk. In one of your meetings, he confessed that he didn’t know such a plant was growing in his garden. You told him now he had pomegranates to make with his meals. After each session, Robert gave you a pomegranate to go home with. Like him, they were hard to resist.

The first hour of your meeting would be about physics, but the length of an hour began to shorten down to thirty minutes, forty-five minutes sometimes. You could sense that Robert wanted to get out of Physics much as you on your late Friday afternoons together.

And then Robert would ask that same old question of wanting to stay for dinner. He’d preface it with the meal he was making, which was starting to fall into the pattern of recipes you recommended.

And without fail, you would always say yes, lacking hesitation.

In the first set of meetings, Robert would cook. He’d ask you to go into his living room to turn on one of the records. You’d ask what record, and he answered with any since he would like what you would put on. In the third week of meetings, Robert stopped directing you to his record player, as you soon could locate the record in the middle of his bookshelf.

Simeusolty putting on a Prokofiev’s Cinderella Record, Summer Fairy began to play low. The intricate and angular melodies to powerful and dramatic orchestration played as you ran your fingers across the bookshelf, observing the elective collection of books Robert had collected. Running your fingers against the thin pages, you looked down at his coach. Two pillows were propped up, and you could see his coffee table in the light. A copy of Sentimental Education rested beside the ashtray of many burnt-out cigarette buds. Robert was in the same chapter as you were.

Most of the time, you would get bored sitting at the island table as Robert smoked, cut, and cooked. All you would do is drink his Martinis, which you hated before but now loved. Without asking, you simply started to help Robert with the cooking. Robert never protested against this.

As the two of you cooked, your conversations ranged in topic and vulnerability.

Robert asked about your family life and hobbies. You told him you had family in New York City but spent a lot of time hiking in Europe or the Southeastern United States being outdoors. Your mother was much older than your father, but it was never an issue. You were the youngest of three much older siblings, two of whom were your step-siblings. You were into reading and art outside the classroom but absolutely loved the outdoors. Some things you didn't even share with Hatomi, you ended up sharing with Robert.

Robert also shared parts of his life; in each part, you two learned that you were somewhat similar, as Robert would say, “kindred souls” who have found each other. Robert was also from New York City, but like you, wanted to escape the East and came out West for a change and its natural beauty. He also enjoyed the outdoors, a found horseback rider. In his youth, he was an avid rock collector and even told you that when he applied for a club, they asked him to come to be a keynote speaker. It fits his character.

One night, as you cut vegetables and Robert sauteed the chicken, he blatantly asked if you have a boyfriend.

You turn to him, and instead of being flustered and embarrassed, you deadpan and say no, before asking if he has a wife.

“Had,” Robert corrected.

Robert had been married to a woman named Kitty, whom Robert said was similar, yet harsher than you. They had divorced three years back, and two had two children together who were three years apart, Peter and Toni. Kitty had moved out to Pittsburgh with their two children but would visit with them every month. Robert did not seem sad by the divorce, saying they still cared for each other but no longer loved one another.

The two of you remained silent until dinner was ready that night.

Your meetings further continued with no issue after that conversation.

It was like any other Friday night meeting. You closed your Physics notebook as Robert got up to prepare dinner, which would be chicken with pomegranate seeds, asparagus, and mashed potatoes which you taught him to cook. You got up and snuck beside Robert, taking pomegranate seeds and putting them in between your lips.

He looked over and smiled, shaking his head. He mumbled something under his breath in which you missed.

“Robert, you must stop asking if I will stay for dinner,” You casually teased, bringing another seed to your lips. You moved the bubbly and wet seed around your lips, adding a glossy red color to the center of your lips, “Especially when you know the answer.”

Your playful words hung in the air, accompanied by a faint smile that danced at the corners of your mouth. The atmosphere was light, and the tension between you and Robert was more of an enjoyable banter than anything serious. The act of painting your lips with the seed was oddly captivating, a unique blend of sensuality and playfulness that added to the moment.

On the other hand, Robert appeared slightly flustered but still managed a sheepish grin. "Well then, why do you always stay, y/n?”

You chuckled softly, savoring the gentle rhythm of your exchange. "Maybe it's your irresistible cooking that keeps me coming back, or perhaps it's the charm and wit of the company."

In mock astonishment, Robert feigned a dramatic sigh, his hand on his chest. "Ah, so you're saying it's not my dashing good looks that have you hooked?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, a mock expression of disbelief on your face. "Oh yes, Robert, your dashing good looks are definitely a bonus. But it's the entire package that keeps me intrigued."

The two of you shared a lighthearted laugh, the energy between you bubbling with a mix of familiarity and affection. Clearly, this banter was a delightful ritual you both enjoyed, a way to express your fondness for each other without saying it outright.

Robert leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I might have to keep asking about dinner just to hear your flattering reasons."

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Well, if that's your plan, then I'll just have to keep giving you reasons, won't I?"

The playful challenge hung in the air, the unspoken understanding between you both weaving a tapestry of shared moments and shared jokes. As the evening continued, the seed on your lips became a symbol of this unique connection, a touch of color that spoke volumes about the newfound chemistry you shared with Robert.

After finishing dinner and cleanup, Robert invited you to his living space. From what you have seen in his house, the living room was by far the biggest. The room smelt like oakwood with its Mahogany shelves of aged books and artifacts from Europe. Prokofiev’s Cinderella plays slowly as Robert and you rest on the couch, only a few inches apart.

In a quiet moment that exudes an air of undeniable allure, Robert reaches into his pants pocket to fetch another box of cigarettes. His fingers move with a graceful confidence, effortlessly withdrawing a sleek pack of cigarettes. The soft glow of ambient light plays upon his lean features, enhancing the sharp angles of his jawline and the subtle smirk that graces his lips.

As he taps the pack against the palm of his hand, a sense of anticipation seems to envelop the surroundings. The action is as deliberate as it is captivating, every movement purposeful and measured. With a smooth and calculated gesture, he slides a cigarette from its sanctuary within the pack, drawing attention to the meticulous attention to detail that defines his every action.

Bringing the slender cylinder to his lips, his eyes remain fixed on the horizon, an enigmatic gaze that hints at depths of both experience and mystery. His fingers deftly produce a matchbox, which, when opened, reveals a single matchstick ready for ignition. The flame is brought to life with a flick of his thumb, illuminating his features momentarily and casting an enchanting glint in his eyes.

The first inhalation is a languid dance between his lips and the cigarette, an intimate connection that only accentuates his innate allure. A plume of smoke curls gracefully from his lips, an ethereal veil that frames his visage like a work of art. The atmosphere seems to pulse with his intoxicating energy as if drawn into the magnetic pull of this captivating moment.

As he exhales, the tendrils of smoke disperse into the air, a testament to his ability to command the space around him and the elements that entwine with his presence. The remaining smoke dances and swirls in the air, mimicking the invisible threads of attraction that weave between observer and observed.

You watch the smoke dance across the dark room in its dark and light hues. Robert sees you in admiration of the smoke (and him, but that’s a secret you keep to yourself) and pulls a stick out, holding it out in front of you. There’s no need to respond verbally; you let him put the cigarette between your lips.

Robert’s fingers, capable and elegant, hold the cigarette with a reverence that speaks of his attentiveness to the details that matter. The slender cylinder is presented not as a mere object but as a gesture of connection, a bridge between the worlds of conversation and quiet contemplation.

He raises the matchbox, its lid flipping open with a soft whisper of anticipation ember at the tip of the match glows with an ephemeral beauty, casting a warm radiance that highlights the contours of his hands and the contours of your cheek.

Drawing the match to the cigarette, the flame bends obediently to his command, transferring its life to the waiting tobacco. As the cigarette ignites, its end glowing with an ember-like intensity, Robert's eyes meet yours, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moment.

Robert brings the cigarette to your lips with a tender elegance, his fingers barely grazing your cheek in a caress that sets the heart aflutter. The touch is fleeting but leaves a lingering impression, a sensation of connection that transcends the physical realm. The smoke dances gracefully from the lit end, curling into the atmosphere like a wisp of shared conversation.

The gesture encapsulates more than a simple offering; it encapsulates his genuine nature and ability to infuse even the most ordinary moments with a touch of extraordinary intimacy. In this ephemeral exchange, the barley touch of Robert’s fingers against your cheek lingers like an echo, a reminder of the subtle and beautiful connections forged through the simplest gestures.

You fall back and take a drag into the cigarette, exhaling the smoke. It was your first time with a cigarette, so you inhaled too much smoke and coughed slightly.

Robert looks back at you, and like a sly predator watching its prey, he too leans back. You can feel the weight of the pillow sink back. Your mouth nearly drops the cigarette as you look over, goosebumps now appearing over your legs. Shifting in your position, you don’t move farther away. Oppenheimer’s another atom bond, in which you feel connected, despite your differences.

Hearing your mother’s and older sister's voice ridiculing dating a man who could be one of your brother’s ages, you take another drag and exhale smoke as the nicotine soothes your anxiety.

“I understand now why people smoke.”

You can feel Oppenheimer’s intense stare, not that it bothers you at all.

There’s a small silence for a few minutes. The two of you bask in the setting sun, watching the smoke play against the hues of the sun. You swear you feel your eyes get heavy, both from the buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine of the cigarette.

The couch feels lighter as you feel Robert get up and walk over to the bookcase. Admiration mingles with a sense of awe as you watch your professor navigate the rows of tomes. His movements are measured and deliberate as he selects a book that promises to unfurl a tapestry of thoughts and ideas. The act itself is a testament to his insatiable thirst for knowledge, a quality that you have deemed extremely handsome to the tall and slender man.

He walks in front of you and flips through the pages, putting the book down in your lap.

You put your cigarette in the ashtray and hold the book to examine it, “Les Fleurs Del Mal.”

“One of my recommendations to you,” Robert responded as he sat back on the couch. The room suddenly got hotter as he felt closer than he did before, “It’s scattered poetry. You can skim, but I don’t recommend it unless you want to enjoy it.”

Your speculation proved to be true when Robert pointed to a page in the book, feeling his thigh scrap against yours. Butterflies danced in your stomach as your cheeks got that burning sensation again.

“These are some of my favorites,” Robert pointed, his finger gracing the page, “That I want you to read.”

Halting your breath, you look at him, and he’s looking right at you. More like right into you. Robert's eyes are like an ocean; they're truly the bluest you have seen. They hold a depth that draws you in, in which you find yourself lost, embraced by an intimate connection that speaks volumes without a single word.

“Read?” You almost stutter, “to myself?”

“Outloud, dear.” Robert’s smooth voice politely commands.

Suddenly, your limbs feel both hot and weak. Robert leans in closer, taking another drag of his cigarette. His gaze does not once leave you.

You put one hand on the page and the other on the soft pillow as your fingers soften the material. Clearing your throat, you look at the first poem and take in a deep breath to contain a noise of ecstasy and pleasure.

I know your heart, which overflows With outworn loves long cast aside, Still like a furnace flames and glows, And you within your breast enclose A damned soul's unbending pride;

But till your dreams without release

Reflect the leaping flames of hell;

Till in a nightmare without cease

You dream of poison to bring peace, And love cold steel and powder well;

And tremble at each opened door, And feel for every man distrust, And shudder at the striking hour - Till then you have not felt the power Of Irresistible Disgust.

My queen, my slave, whose love is fear, When you awaken shuddering, Until that awful hour be here,

You cannot say at midnight drear :

"I am your equal, O my King!"

Robert only responds by turning the page to the following poem, A Carcass. In the corner of your eye, his hand rests on the couch, only an inch away from yours. Before looking back at the page, you uncurl your fist, lying all of your finger against the couch, less than an inch away from Robert’s.

Recall to mind the sight we saw, my soul,

That soft, sweet summer day:

Upon a bed of flints a carrion foul,

Just as we turn'd the way,

Its legs erected, wanton-like, in air,

Burning and sweating pest,

In unconcern'd and cynic sort laid bare

To view its noisome breast.

The sun lit up the rottenness with gold, To bake it well inclined,

And give great Nature back a hundredfold

All she together join'd.

The sky regarded as the carcass proud

Oped flower-like to the day;

So strong the odour, on the grass you vow'd You thought to faint away.

Robert’s index finger is now hooking onto your smaller pinkie. You relax your hand as his hand covers yours, his touch gentle and alluring. You don’t know much you’ll be able to read in a controlled state. Robert turns to the next poem as his hand covers yours, his thumb stroking the top of your hand.

“My personal favorite,” He murmurs—Love’s Lighting.

Gulping, you proceed to read, slowly breaking down.

Last night as I lay awake in bed A flash of you came into my head And into my heart, and straightway fled.

It passed from the chamber suddenly,

Leaving no trace to know it by

But a tightened breast and a wet, glad eye.

Like a moonray soft it came and went,

Which glimmers through where the cloud-wrack's

rent,

Hovers a moment and then is spent;

Or a bee against a window-pane,

Which taps but once and never again, Some autumn day, before the rain.

For one brief moment I felt it stealing Along the verge of thought and feeling

As though some great vague thing revealing,

As though for that moment sad and sweet

My soul was out in the infinite, And Life and Death were as one to it.

You close the book and look at Robert, catching his eyes before looking at your intertwined hands. His hand covers yours, his fingers laced within yours. He gently squeezes your hand, propelling you to move closer to him, which you do.

“Your eyes,” You murmur as Robert brings you closer to him, your faces an inch apart, “There blue. But there’s something in them. There’s a spark, an explosion. There’s a burning desire, surrounded by the never-ending sea.”

Robert is just as enchanted as you are. He brings his free hand to your cheek, stroking your smooth skin like you are a fragile China doll.

“If there is a god, he spent more time on you,” Robert confessed, moving to the back of your hair, entangling and losing himself within the silkiness.

“Y/n, you are among the most beautiful creatures I have seen. Can you let me kiss you?”

Your hand moves to Robert’s cheek, and he leans into your touch.

"If there is a god, he spent more time on you," Robert confessed, his voice a warm breath against your skin as his fingers delicately traced the contours of your hair, entangling and losing himself within the silkiness.

"Y/n, you are among the most beautiful creatures I have seen," he murmured, his gaze locked onto your lips with a mixture of desire and reverence. His thumb brushed your lower lip in a gentle, teasing caress. "Can you let me kiss you?"

Your heart fluttered in response, your chest rising and falling with each anticipatory breath. Your fingers moved to cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble against your palm as you leaned in, your lips drawing closer to his. The world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the soft, charged atmosphere between you.

His lips met yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It had been your first, so you let him overtake as you enjoyed. It was a dance of sensations, a slow exploration of desire and affection. The touch was gentle, as if he was savoring every moment, every nuance of the connection that formed between your lips. His mouth moved against yours with delicate precision, a symphony of longing and intimacy that left you breathless.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the possessiveness in the way he held you, his fingers threading through your hair, anchoring you closer. His hand, which held yours found the small of your back, a reassuring pressure that drew you impossibly nearer.

Time lost meaning as your lips moved together, a rhythm that spoke of shared longing and a connection beyond the physical. It was a kiss that whispered promises of intimacy and trust, an unspoken understanding that bound you together in that stolen moment of tenderness and desire.

As Robert kissed and held you, you loved the sensation of being adored. The romance between you, too, however, was forbidden. He was thirty, and you were a teenager, albeit legal, but recently, a little girl. But you couldn’t resist, and he couldn’t control his desire. After all, Life and Death were as one to it.

#carrie writes #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #oppenheimer #oppenheimer x reader #robert j oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer

244 notes · View notes

infinitegalahad · 1 year ago

Text

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER ONE

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: In the fall of 1939, You are an incoming freshman at Berkeley. Despite your love for literature and the pressure of your parents, you begrudgingly enroll in a Physics course. There you meet J. Robert Oppenheimer; your professor turned into your best friend and most importantly, your lover. Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Nothing major, minus the huge age gap. The reader is 18, and Oppenheimer is at least thirty. Everything is legal and consensual. If this bothers you, please do not read it; thank you! Notes: gonna be a long note, so strap in folks. so i have this tendency to get hyperfocused on a piece of media, get my little gremlin hands on any piece of media about it, devour said piece of media, and then poop out 5k+ words in under 24 hours due to my obsession. this happened two years ago with safin from no time to die, and let me just say that it goes to show that history is a sick cycle. not sick, I'm just literally insane. lol, anyways! here's some lore. last Sunday i saw oppenheimer and thought it was a masterpiece! i also love cillain murphy too, so that's a massive bonus. the next day, i bought american prometheus. i started reading it on tuesday, and finished it on Friday. if you haven't read it, please go read it. the book is impossible to put down, and a lot of characterization of robert and other characters come from the movie, but mainly the novel. this fic is heavily researched. this fic is also very dark too, and the content is...yeah. the age gap is very massive and while legal, very taboo, so please keep this in mind. there will be dark content in this story so be warned. trigger warnings will be in the beginning of every chapter. this is on my tumblr and ao3 as well. here is a playlist i made while writing this , if that does anything. my masterlist is also at work too; the new and updated version will be out next chapter. <a href="url">add yourself to the taglist if you are interested</a>. thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy.

There are people talking, and while they are close, their voices are nothing but mindless mutters.

Despite how much they had to drink, the buzz managed to slow their thoughts yet made them somewhat aware of their surroundings. If you tried, not like they really wanted to, you could point out every little detail around them–all small things, meaningless and unimportant, in the vast growing universe.

The uneven vintage ski portrait on Hatomi’s side of the room, the dim light covered by the French literature nights on the window sill, the light of the moon in boxy shapes across the aged wooden door, your feet sticking out underneath the blanket and the cool air bringing goosebump to your toes, the heat of your flashlight against your cheek; it’s all so small.

You’ve known Hatomi, your roommate at Berkeley, for the last week. A Japanese American from Davis, she’s a lover of literature like you, albeit you’re more into Russian and American literature than French. Both of you have concluded that you are different but are different enough to put those said differences aside to be friends. Hatomi, unlike you, is smiley and bright, the type to make a conversation not as awkward. She’s made many friends, some of whom are yours, and you’re thankful for her. In your orientation week at Berkeley, she’s helped you break out of your shell, and you’ve gone around campus and to parties to get out and meet people.

As thankful as you are for Haotmi, you are not very thankful about her bringing in some guy into the room without making it clear and having full-blow sex. Hatomi tries to keep her moans contained, but the slapping and grunts from the man beneath are not in any way contained or quiet. He’s as loud as possible, and you can identify him from one of the many parties you’ve been to, but all of them in your state become a gradual blur.

There’s a visible outline of the two through your quilt. Hatomi’s on top, and said the man is on the bottom with messy hair. He’s got a hand on her hip, and she nudges forward, her body moving forward. It makes you feel even lonelier than you already feel, but it's not intentional, but it’s certainly a jab. Hatomi cries his name, an emphasis on the end of his name.

You haphazardly try to catch his name, but end up forgetting it, the alcohol from earlier helping sing you to sleep.

–

It soon became a cycle—the whole lot of it.

You’d wake up at seven for your eight in the morning English class. Then you’d head to your philosophy class from nine-thirty to ten-thirty before heading to lunch at eleven. After that break, then comes your Greek class from twelve to one. Then it’s physics.

It’s not that you don’t like physics. Actually, you love it—the concept is fascinating. The movement, gravity, and being a small thing in the grand scheme of the infinite universe is a topic you could dive into for hours on end. And not to mention, you have a burning hatred for the mathematics of it. You know you can do introductory algebra, but that’s where you draw the line. Calculus and all of that is too advanced. You can do it; at the bare minimum.

Your class is not that big. It’s your smallest class with ten students, all intrigued by a fascinating professor.

The first time you met him, he stood by the chalkboard with a huff of smoke following behind him. He wore a dark gray tweed suit and had thick, coarse hair which was wild, maintained with gel. He was tall but not towering and rather slender. With the bluest eyes you had ever seen, you knew that this man was a character; not to mention, he also looked intelligent.

And that he was.

Dr.Oppenheimer was the reason you started actually to love physics. Not like, love. He was not an easy teacher; he was complex but rewarding. He took the concept of physics and made it more interesting than it already was, adding another dimension to it that you didn’t think was possible.

Instead of the class being a lecture, Oppenheimer discussed the fundamental forces and philosophy. He, like you, enjoyed how physics interacted with the classical world. With a cigarette in one hand and a piece of chalk in another, and in his velvety voice, Oppenheimer taught something along the lines of the cosmic universe or the quantum tunnel and would look to his students for their input, arguments, questions, or their voice to the topic.

You know, or thought he knew, that you weren’t the best at physics, but could always add a philosophical or insight on how physics affects both in the modern and classical world. Sometimes in class, the two of you would dive into a conversation. Oppenheimer would give you a serious loo, staring directly at you with his bright blue eyes. You could have sworn they were the bluest eyes you had ever seen, in which you were. As you challenge you, Oppenehiemr would stare, blowing the occasional puff of smoke. You could see him smile, but maybe that was a part of your imagination.

Physics was complicated, but not only did you enjoy the class for Oppenheimer, but you also look at Oppenheimer. You would not have said it initially, but he did come and was attractive to you. He looked serious, older, and cold; which all remained true, but he was also intelligent, and that was the most attractive thing to you. His intelligence made him overall even more handsome than he already was. With this new found elevation, you soon began to find everything he did attractive. It became a slight distraction, but it was enough to make you leave class with pink cheeks and smile to yourself all giddy. The fantastical thoughts of “what if” played in your mind, making going to sleep a little easier than it usually it.

–

On Monday, Oppenheimer deemed that your class was heading into the “most brutal” and “nightmare-causing” fundamental force of Physics; Quantum Mechanics.

He also declared it was one of his favorite micro topics in Physics and, in his mind, “not too difficult if you truly look into it.”

Everyone got a horrible gut feeling in their stomachs.

Oppenheimer was blunt and did not sugarcoat, which was a fair warning to his class. Quantum Mechanics took everything that was horrible about Physics and made it increasingly worse. Wavefunctions, Eigenstates, Quantum Measurement, and all the new equations hit you like a frictional force. And it began to show on your assignments.

Your normal average in the class was an A- (with Oppenheimer giving you an E for “exceptional effort”) hanging off the side of a cliff, but this new topic dragged your average down with massive magnetic force. Soon, your average became a B-. Homework assignments and reading responses leaned towards a B, while your test and quizzes averaged at failing or border failing. You felt relieved that one of your quizzes on Bra-Ket Notation came back as a C+.

Oppenheimer was writing on the board, finishing a Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle equation on the board. He looked at the clock, knowing that class was going to end soon. Putting his chalk down and burning the small amount of his cigarette on the ashtray, he reached for a large stack of his papers. Most had red handwriting with circles, arrows, and question marks. A heavy wave of anxiety hit the class as a perpetual sigh raised.

You could have sworn Oppenheimer stared directly at you. The vast blue eye started to haunt you, but you convinced yourself it was your mind playing tricks. You turned to one of your neighborhoods and sighed, shaking your head.

“I understand you are all eager to receive back the recent test on the basic equations of Quantum Mechanics. I have taken my time grading each one and you will see why it looks like a long time,” Oppenheimer noted, with a tinge of dark comedy and sarcasm in his voice. He didn’t look up at the class as he walked around, gently putting each paper on the desk. Each paper he put down made a student who was having a good day a very not good day.

Between the heavy sighs and whispers between the students, you gulped as Oppenheimer passed your desk. He looked down for a split second and put your paper down. He pointed to the red writing right where you had written your name before moving on. Gathering yourself, you grabbed the test, and not your shock, was disappointed.

Out of forty-five points, you had only gotten nine. It was a new low you had hit in the class. It seemed like it would keep getting lower. Everything was far from right, and he gave those points only because you tried by writing a passage by each equation explaining what you had tried to replicate, knowing it was very wrong.

You skimmed the front, noticing the red writing on top. He wrote your name in cursive, and you would hear him say it, asking you to “please” meet him.

And then the bell rang. People talked amongst themselves and gathered their things as they headed out of the classroom. You sat there and sighed, visibly upset. You weren’t going to cry, but you felt like it. You tried not to show it as you began to gather your books, covering the physics test, preparing to get up.

“Y/n.”

You freeze and look up. Oppenheimer has been leaning on his desk, looking at you like a dashing Spectre. He puts his hands in his pockets and slowly begins to walk towards you.

“Is this a good time to talk?”

Hearing the word talk made your stomach turn. You look up at him and clasp your hands together, nodding. You feel your left leg begin to shake.

“Yes, Dr.Oppenheimer.”

Oppenheimer made his way over and stood beside you, leaning on the side of a desk, looking down at you. He took a quick glance at your shaking leg before looking back at you.

“You’re not in trouble.”

You didn’t verbally acknowledge him, but you took a contained sigh and stopped shaking your thigh, paying full attention to the attractive older man.

“I want to preface this conversation that you, Y/n, are one of this class’s most active and enjoyable students. Your participation and observation add onto the lesson, helping others around you, and even myself, learn more about Physics,” Oppenheimer said with high praise. He had a regalness to his soft voice. You felt your cheeks burn, containing your smile as you quietly thanked him. You watched his hands fidget inside of his pants pocket.

“As talented and educated as you are in Academia, especially Physics, I notice you don’t do well on tests and exams. Everything else is excellent, and your effort is always there. However, with tests,” Oppenheimer moved his hand downwards, “It’s all negative. When I got your first test, I found it hard to believe it was your work. But then it all made sense.”

“Now understand, Y/n, I am not mad or upset. I am worried. I can see there is an act of force, which is your anxiety. I do believe this is something we can work on–” Oppenheimer clearly explained. He saw your shoulders lower, relieve your tension had disappeared, “--Together, outside of the academic setting.”

“Like one-on-one?” You questioned.

Oppenheimer nodded, “Yes, just the two of us. It would be an hour and a half to an hour, nothing more and nothing less.”

Hearing “just the two of us” made your mind go to wild places. You bit your tongue and squeezed your clasped hands together. You smiled, “Yes, of course. I think this would help a lot.”

“Now tell me, what is your availability? I understand you are busy.”

You shrugged your shoulders. You were busy but also could make time for a lot of spare time.

“I can do any time work, preferably if you are okay with Friday afternoons,” You brainstormed, thinking about your schedule, “I know you teach a graduate class in the morning, and I have Greek at the same time.”

Oppenheimer furrowed his eyebrows, intensely studying your appearance.

“Friday afternoons?” He questioned, “Don’t you want to be with your friends and not have to worry about work? I understand your drive, Y/n, but I don’t want it to mix with your limited downtime. I hear you are an excellent student, and this is a very fixable grade. I rather you create a balance than an offset.

While an average first-year would rather skip meeting with a Professor on Friday Afternoons, it didn’t bother you. Getting your grade up in Physis was very important. Education in your family was everything and meant a lot to you. Seeing a C with A’s and A-’s made you feel incomplete. You needed to feel complete.

“Dr.Oppenheimer, thank you for your concern. I insist that Fridays work as well. Mondays through Tuesdays, I’m either studying or leading other study groups for my other classes. If you are worried about my social life, I can assure you that I do get out of the dorm and library with my friends,” You reassured the older man, “Besides, the whole party scene is really not my scene. I’ve seen enough parties at Berkeley to be okay with missing them. If Fridays don’t work, I will work with your time.”

“Fridays work well for me as they work well for you,” Dr.Oppenheimer concluded. He looked at the clock above his desk before looking at you, “How do Fridays at 5 pm sound?”

“Perfect timing, Dr.Oppenheimer. Shall we meet here?”

Oppenheimer rubbed his index and middle finger on the temple of his head, “Well if you are comfortable, I’d rather congregate at my house rather than the classroom since we will be out of the Academic Day.”

Taken aback by the bold move, your lips made a subtle “o” shape. You squeezed your hands together, contemplating. His house, where he slept, ate, and did other things that were not fit for the academic setting? This made your imagination run wild—the idea of being in his house, just you and him, fed into your fantasy.

“My house is on Shasta Road. It’s right off the campus. It’s a short walk. However, if you are not comfortable, especially late at night walking home alone, then I can–”

“Dr.Oppenheimer,” You insisted. He stopped speaking and looked at you, waiting for you to speak.

You stuttered, feeling the heat up your throat to your face, “It is okay. Friday at 5 pm at your house is perfect. The walk will help me clear my mind before tackling the equations.”

Oppenheimer studied your features for a second before coughing and putting his hands together, “So, it’s settled. We will meet tomorrow then. Thank you for your time, y/n.”

As Oppenheimer began to head back to his desk, you stood and gathered your books, ready to head to your Greek class. You could feel how hot your face was, but you couldn’t imagine how red and embarrassing you looked.

“Thank you, Dr.Oppenheimer.

Scurrying to leave the classroom in a flustered state, one of your books falls over. It makes a loud slamming noise into the ground. You’ve got a solid amount of books in your hand, varying in topic and weight. Turning around, you are about to awkwardly bend down to pick up the book, but Oppenheimer has beaten you to it. His presence scared you at first. He’s holding the ivory, aged book, examining the cover and back. You stand two inches away from him as you cradle your books, not wanting to say something to disrupt him.

“Sentimental Education. Is this for class or pleasure?” Oppenheimer inquired. He looked back at you as he placed it on top of your books. He saw the one below, your Greek textbook, was sticking out and about to fall. He made sure to push it in to balance the books and make sure you didn't fall over.

Not that you were complaining about falling over since he would have to catch you. You cursed at your wild imagination.

You let out a long uhm before declaring it was for class. More specifically, your English class of The French Adventure: Word, Sound, and Image taught by Mr.Chevalier. But it was unimportant. It was a good book, albeit obscure. Oppenheimer probably thought you were some idiot for both failing a test and reading some silly book. He probably wondered why you were even in a physics class to begin with.

“Do you like it?” He questioned.

“Yes, a lot,” You expressed, “It’s the second book we’ve read, but so far my favorite. It was ahead of its time,” You go red, “And even for this time. I don’t know what I’m saying even, my parents made me read it in high school.”

Oppenheimer made a noise of approval, placing his hands on his hips, “Well, it shows that your parents wanted you to be well-rounded, and here you stand at one of the best public universities in the world. So I would say you do know what you are saying since I fully agree.”

The compliment made you want to make some happy noise, but you bite your lip. You nodded your head and naked it, knowing it came out as a mumble. Everything you said felt super embarrassing.

“Y/n, I understand you have class,” Oppenheimer cut to the point, “But if you ever want a book recommendation, come to me. I’ve been looking for someone who understands.”

“Understand?” You asked, dumbfounded.

“Someone who both understands and enjoys art.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage to say. You smile and hold your books closer, “Well, I should-”

“You should-” Oppenheimer highlighted, hands on his hips, “I shouldn’t keep you.”

You wanted to protest that he should, but you didn’t. As you made your way to the door, you looked back. There he stood in his slender and regal form, hands on his hips. For a cold man who never looked happy, he did. You could have sworn his eyes had a spark to them that made them brighter. You felt brighter too.

On your way out, he froze and looked at you again, and gave a small smile.

You smiled back.

–

It’s 4:50pm.

Your mother always said it was better to be very early than to be very late. Those words guided you through life, following you from home to high school to Berkeley.

After class, you spent the hour getting ready. Taking a shower, you made sure to look your best with low effort. You didn’t want it to appear that you were trying to look good, even though you wore it. Putting on something very casual, you made sure to wear yourself nicely and even added a sweet touch of Chanel Coco perfume that your father had gotten for you in France for your high school Graduation.

You walk up the hill and spot the house, recognizing the numbers on the mall box. The house is well sized and has the architecture of a craftsman. It’s hidden by numerous large plants and bushes, which you take a second to admire as you walk to the door. Eventually, you reach the door and hesitate to knock. Check your watch, it’s 5:52pm. If he’s busy, you can wait.

There’s no point in knocking since you can hear the lock on the door unlock. As you put your hands behind your back, the door opens and it reveals Oppenheimer. He looks weirdly normal and this comforts you. He swaps his flannel suit jacket for a white oxford button up with dark slacks. The top button of the shirt is unbuttoned, and in one hand he has a cigarette, in which he is trying to successfully hide.

“Dr.Oppenheimer,” You greeted with a small smile, squeezing your hands behind your back.

You could swear you saw a small quirk at the side of Oppenheimer’s mouth. He stands to the side.

“Y/n, welcome,” He greets. You quietly thank in as you walk in, standing to the side as you clutch onto your brown leather alligator bag with your textbook and notebook.

“How was the walk?”

“Not bad. It’s nice outside. I’m sorry if I’m early, it’s a bad habit-”

“No need to apologize. It is a good habit. It will serve you well,” Oppenheimer praised once again as he led you into the kitchen. You hadn't been alone with him, let alone in his own house, but he was different. Around others, he was cold and calculated to a tee. But around you, something felt warm and strangely comforting.

When walking to the kitchen, you catch a glimpse of his house. It feels rather empty, and in a way, very melancholic.

The kitchen is simple and small. For a California one story however, the kitchen can fit more than two, maybe three.

“Sit,” Oppenheimer subtly commands. It’s not an intentional command, but upon hearing this, you immediately sit down on the nearest chair. As you pull out your textbook and notebook with some pens and pencils, you can see Oppenheimer rummaging through the fridge and grabbing two glasses.

“Do you drink?”

You're in the middle of opening your notebook. You look down and lick your lips.

“Yes.”

He doesn’t respond and proceeds to make whatever drink he is making. You sit there and swing your legs back and forth, waiting in silence minus the shaking and pouring.

“Speak to me,” Oppenheimer announces. You look at his back as he makes the drink. Once again, he’s slender, but yet strong and vibrant in his appearance, “Go to the first page of your test. Read the equation.”

You feel lucky Oppenheimer’s turned since your cheeks, like yesterday, have gone to a light pink.

Obeying his words that feel like a command that you are more than happy to accept, you grab your test and open to the first page to read the first question.

“Consider a particle in a one-dimensional potential well of width of L and infinite potential barriers at its edges. The potential inside the well is given by V(x)=0 for 0<x<L0<x<L and V(x)=∞V(x)=∞ for x < 0 x<0 and x>Lx>L,” You read out, “The Hamiltonian operator for this system is H; where x is the mass of the particle. Find the allowed energy eigenvalues and corresponding eigenfunctions for this system.”

“A fundamental. Now, tell me your answer.”

You get your pen and calculator out, placing it at your side. “I started with the Time-Independent Schrödinger Equation and substituted v(x) for the kinetic energy term. Then I tried to solve and it, uhm-”

Not only were the calculations for your test both difficult to answer and hard to process, but having Oppenheimer stand right behind you further proved to be a brain block. He was only an inch away from you as he had leaned to look at your paper, a hand on the back of your sheet which scraped your warm back. You had been so caught on the equation that you hadn't noticed he was an inch behind you, breathing down your neck. Thank god there had been a table since your legs began to shake; a combination of raw anxiety and pure adrenaline.

You started to write the equation into your calculator, pressing down on each button. Scribbling away at your notebook, you felt his warm breath down your throat. Just as you wrote the solution, you felt him smell behind your ear and into your hair. You had sprayed some perfume there, which was a habit of yours. He leaned into, gentle and careful not to touch you, taking in the airy and smooth feminine scent. Not protesting, you finished your solution and let him bask, all while basking his cold yet comforting presence.

“The corresponding eigenfunctions are: ∣ψn⟩= Asin⁡(nπxL)∣ψ n ⟩ =Asin( Lnπx ),” You gulped. You felt his warm presence move back, yet his hand remained on the chair. You pushed a piece of hair back, “I guess it’s not too different from my old answer. It’s right, it’s just-”

“The math piece of it,” Oppie pointed out, “Well, there was no issue here. With your calculator of course.”

“Yes,” You chuckled to yourself and looked at the big device. It really did help.

“Use it more,” Oppenheimer said, “Don’t be scared too. Math is not everyone’s strong suit; including mine.”

You smiled at him as he sat in the chair next to you.

“I don’t know if you drank from our conversation earlier, but I made you a martini,” Oppenheimer said. You looked at it and picked up the drinking, examining the liquid.

“Oh, thank you. I do, just the…better stuff,” You thanked with a small confession. You took a sip and let the strong liquid ooze down your throat. It was excellent, in which you proceeded to drink more.

Oppenheimer leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself. He wanted to make sure you didn’t see that, but you did.

For the next hour, the two of you talked about your test. Each question you read out, and he helped you with the math, but overall you were able to solve most of it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress. He seemed pleased, and you were as well.

Once you had finished going over the test, you sighed and leaned back leisurely from both Oppenheimer's presence Martini.

“Well, thank you, Dr.Oppenheimer. This has been short, yet helpful.”

He crossed his arms as he also leaned back, “Of course, I’m pleased to hear.”

There was a silence before you looked at your watch and grabbed your books.

“It’s 6pm. I’m sure you’ve got things to do, I should go-”

“I’ve only got dinner to make. Chicken, peas, and potatoes,” Oppenheimer said. He smoked another cigarette, which made you wonder how many he smoked a day. You focused on his chapped lips and the way they lightly held the cigarette, sucking in and dragging out ashen smoke.

“Say, would you like to stay for dinner? There's plenty for two.”

The task made you blink a few times to make sure this wasn’t one of your fantastical thoughts late at night as a way to soothe you to bed. You opened your lips in an attempt to create a coherent response.

“I can make you another Martini, even show you.”

You knew you were red, but it clearly to him did not matter.

“Yes, I’d love-would be happy to stay for dinner, Dr.Oppenheimer.” You said, very flattered.

A slow exhale released a veil of smoky allure, as if the very air itself surrendered to Oppenheimer’s fiery elegance.

“If you are staying over for dinner from now on, please, call me Robert.”

#carrie writes #cillain murphy #cillian murphy x reader #oppenheimer #oppenheimer x reader #robert j oppenheimer #robert j oppenheimer x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction

330 notes · View notes