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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!

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#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

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weirdworldofwinnie · 1 year ago

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Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part One: Arrival

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader, NSFW 18+ only

Summary: You are married to the man in charge of the Manhattan Project himself, Dr. Robert Oppenheimer, and it's your first day (and night) at Los Alamos where tension and unspoken worry is getting high, but he finds time to show you how love can be an oasis in what seems like a rather barren land.

Word Count: ~7, 213

Warnings: Age gap (reader is mid-20s and he is almost 40, and they have been married for a couple years), period stereotypical gender roles (maybe sexism?), unprotected + oral sex, mention of miscarriage, and strong hints at infidelity

Disclaimer: Obviously NOT completely historically or scientifically accurate to real life and is inspired by the film with Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer. There are definitely mentions of Katherine and Jean Tatlock as lovers in this, but he does not have any children with Kitty and is not physically with either of them presently. I also want to clarify that this (while researched) is still just my interpretation with AU elements added in, and it isn't supposed to be in total support and reflection of the real man's life/personality. Scroll away and DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this story; it is primarily for entertainment purposes only and it is just fantasy/fiction!

April 1943

The ride en route to the secluded destination christened as "Los Alamos" was long, hot, and bumpy through the New Mexico desert on a single primitive dirt road with the sun beating down on the windshield, glaring into your eyes and reflecting off the expensive dainty golden watch wrapped around your wrist that had been last year's anniversary present, and the jostling motion of the car made your breasts jiggle up and down slightly, reminding you that you'd been in such a hurry to leave with Robert this morning you'd regrettably forgone putting on a bra. He glanced over to you now, his porkpie hat shadowing the serious and contemplative expression that he had been wearing as a regular look for weeks now... Finally this plan was coming to fruition, but at what cost? It was the government's money and the scientists who were on the line. Robert let you know more details than most out of his non-physics inner circle because he trusted you to keep your lips sealed, but he never gave specifics about what exactly the coined Manhattan Project, or Project Y, was for in terms of a mission yet because it was national security level secret, however it didn't take a genius to figure out it was incredibly important and the development of something dangerous... Too dangerous to keep in a campus laboratory at Berkeley.

As the car approached the main gate and passed by the checkpoint, you realized just now fairly remote this barbed-wire location was and it made a small sinkhole crater in your stomach. But Robert knew this land from his youth and you partly did too, for he owned ranchland here and you both had spent many hours in the last couple years roaming on horseback and on foot into the twilight hours of the day, feeling the chill of the evening breeze and the rustle of shrubbery as the sun dipped down below the horizon and plum light bathed the landscape, bouncing off the backdrop of mountains and reaching deep into the canyons. You recalled fondly one time in particular during the early stages of being courted by him... It was technically only the second date and he had mistakenly trusted you with a horse, even though you were hardly an experienced rider, and of course it had gone ballistic and attempted to buck you off as you held on for dear life to the stiff dark brown leather saddle.

"Woah... Woah! Easy, easy," Robert had called out, grabbing a hold of the bridle and patting the stallion on the neck as you gasped and he kicked his hooves, thrashing the dirt and missing Robert's cowboy boots by inches.

"This one can be a bit rowdy, sometimes the wild never quite gets bred out, and he's not used to you," he explained simply over your panicked cries as he kept patting and verbally calming the animal down.

"But what did I do wrong? I swear, he dislikes me tremendously!" you exclaimed in shock and Robert only shook his head.

"Then he has very poor taste in women if he rejects you," he had joked and you went sliding off the horse's back to where Robert caught you, easing you to the ground gently.

"Are you alright?" he asked, eyes alight with a mischievous concern, but you merely brushed your pants off and smoothed your blouse, shaking the experience off.

"Of course I am. Now are we riding or not?"

He smiled at your confidence, but had hoisted you up onto his horse instead, straddling you from behind so you were facing front and clutching onto the reins. His arms loped around your waist and the horse began to trot, bouncing both you and him in a steady up and down motion, and you flicked the reins, causing the horse to take off into the expansive landscape and Robert let out a joyous whoop as the pace transitioned into a gregarious cantering gallop and the wind whipped your hair around like a battered Old Glory flag in a storm.

"This is too fast!" you had yelled out, but he only laughed, tightening his hold into a squeeze around you and spoke into your ear with a low murmur which instinctively made the goosebumps flare up on your neck.

"I wouldn't let you go even if that horse went mad and flew us off the ground over into a ravine to our deaths."

A little more than six months later after that frivolous adventure, he had dropped to his knee in that very desert and proposed to you, a diamond engagement ring encased in a black box in his palms and you were startled, taken aback at the promptness and faintly aware he was actively seeing at least one other woman at the time, but he had claimed he called it off with her a week ago.

You had cautiously accepted, knowing he was far from a wholesome man, but he was certainly one in a billion and you had unapologetically been with him ever since, even though some friends and extended relatives had openly judged, thinking you were only climbing up a social status ladder by doing so, and a couple of your more left-leaning girlfriends thought you were foolish to already settle for a man at your young age, but you truly loved him. Romance was rather odd; so rushed it could be and yet you felt comfortable around him as if you had known each other for life; soulmates, perhaps, if there ever was such a notion.

The wedding ceremony had been lavish enough to make you feel special, but it had been a more low-key event with only a small group of the closest friends and family in attendance, for he did not want much pomp and circumstance and you had spent the honeymoon at his secluded New Mexico ranch property, bizarrely a sort of prelude to where you both were ending up now. The phone hadn't stopped ringing for the past few weeks and since this work was taking up presidency, it was truth to be told that you hadn't really had time for each other and had been distant these past couple months as he diverted all his focus and intellect to the government and you hoped that after all this preparation, everything would settle somewhat now that he was at the ground level site. You felt trepidation but also excitement because this venture felt relevant and Robert was in his element with the company of like minded individuals all working towards a common goal. His vocation in teaching what he already knew of upper level physics had been boring him lately and he had told you multiple times he was haunted by the pressing need to be essential to the war effort outside of the confines of a classroom; he and his students had to make a real impact and change to the world, to this damned war. And if Robert wasn't the most ambitious, motivated, self-driven intelligent human being you'd ever met, then you'd be stumped to know who was right for the job; he could be dangerously dogged and was as loyal to this country as roots were to their corresponding corn stalks.

And now, starting today, he was the one man scientific director, a ruler really, of this militarized oasis in the middle of, well, nowhere.

Fractions of the place were still in progress, as evident by the trucks and the hammering with the occasional man lumbering past hauling construction boards on his shoulders. The Oppenheimers were still early in arrival, but everyone else on the project was supposed to be settled in by the end of the week. The house you and your husband were to live at was much better off than the cookie-cutter houses hastily put up suburban style along the man-made streets and it was tucked furthest away from the epicenter of town; a large spacious log and stone cabin (that had been formerly a boys' school) ranch style home surrounded by pine trees and shrubs along with a decent yard with that seemed ripe for cultivating a garden, and yet the home was modest and not overly luxurious; this was no vacation.

"The kitchen isn't finished?" you asked in surprise at once upon entry inside and Robert sighed, knowing you how much you had a penchant for cooking and he also knew that hosting gatherings here was going to be essential.

"I'll make sure they get it complete by the end of the week," he assured, resting a hand on the small of your back as you dropped down the luggage on the floor.

"Well, it is rather nice otherwise," you admitted, turning to him and smiling, but he couldn't quite return the gesture.

"Robert, what's the matter?" You reached to cup his cheek and he leaned into your touch before lifting up his own hand and placing it atop the one plastered to his face.

"I'm frankly worried how this is all going to work, how soon we can accomplish what we need to do. The death toll in Germany grows by the day, it may already be too late and..."

You placed a hand to his lips, shushing him with sadness.

"Please, shh, I'll have none of that talk when we just arrived in our new house. We are here now and that is the most important first step that matters towards any kind of accomplishment to your saving the world from this hellish war."

"I need to go do some oversight on the operations in town and at the laboratory," he announced abruptly, stepping back from your touch and picking up his briefcase as you nodded, moving with him to the front door.

"I'll see you tonight then. I think I'll make deviled chicken with a creamy coleslaw."

"I'm sure it will be delicious." He gave a tight smile and it was a somewhat ironic statement coming from the man who ate less than a thousand calories a day. That was one frustrating aspect about him that you had discovered when you had moved in with him back in California and realized he never had regular meals, and lately drinks and cigarettes were his main fuel. You hoped one of these days your passion for food would finally rub off on his aversion, but it probably wouldn't happen here with the increased supply rationing.

He disappeared out the door with his hat and you stood for awhile, taking in this new environment inside the main part of the house with its interesting architecture of high beamed ceilings and picture windows that allowed ample amounts of natural light at almost all hours. You spent most of the day unpacking and organizing, briefly going out to greet and visit with the other wives of top scientists, some you already knew, but others you had not met until today and you noticed that one of those you weren't familiar with was visibly pregnant... She was even younger than you and seeing her led you to wonder how quickly this little manufactured desert town was going to see a population boom in the next few years. Robert had brought up the concept of having children with you on more than one occasion, since you had already gone through one miscarriage (only in your first trimester and you never knew the sex of it, the doctor told you it could have been worse if you had carried to full term and lost the infant at birth, but it was still a gutting loss... Although you knew Robert was privately relieved, especially now since his work would likely leave no room in his heart to father an innocent, demanding child and all the burden would go to you alone) and there was the fact of possible infertility. The hardship of procreation probably ran in the family... Your mother had also miscarried, then had your premature brother who caught polio at two years old and perished weeks later, and then she herself had died during your own childbirth, leaving your father devastated and alone to care for you. You had a complicated, strained relationship early on with him and you wondered perhaps Freud was loosely right about the Oedipus complex since you always had such strong attractions to older men... but at least your father always tried to give you the best possible life he had with his wealth, which led you to moving out from your childhood home in New York across the country to pursue attending college in California in the field of psychology and medicine. You had been in the process of getting a degree in nursing, at least until Robert altered your life by his own ambitions and you had been forced to drop your studies temporarily to move out here with him, but you planned to be studying some by correspondence if the government allowed and also to be able to help out in the small hospital on site for an occupation.

To trim the excess fat off a long story short, it had been a bizarre fluke that you met and promptly fell in love with Robert... you were introduced on campus by friends who also knew Jean Tatlock, a budding psychiatrist and proudly Communist, and he had happened to take a bright shine to you. You considered him unattainable at first, a very well respected brilliant physics teacher with more life experience than you could have dreamed of... He was otherworldly at times, yet found grounding earth in your presence, but it would mystify you what exactly he found so desirable in you. You were as lovely as any other woman your age and smart, but you never thought of yourself as outstandingly intelligent when compared to the people he taught in academia, and not absolutely drop dead gorgeous in terms of prize worthy beauty. Perhaps the attraction, like Robert's scientific passion, was on a molecular scale and only bonded by invisible atoms making the illusion of being a solid relationship. Maybe it was as basic as the fact that you two were mutually compatible with each other and respectable of any differences, unlike his other fiery messy relationships with Jean and Katherine. Would you having a baby split that all apart? Personally, you weren't sure you were ready for any offspring yet and to be thrown into motherhood when you were still navigating having a successful marriage and you highly doubted "The Hill" (as the residents here were calling it) would be a healthy environment for children to thrive in, despite the efforts for a school and daycare, seeing that there were armed uniforms milling about all hours of the day and silent stress was already pervasive in every look, cough, and casual conversation you noticed through passing by. And it was only day one of, as Robert predicated, two to three years of hard work swathed in isolated secrecy.

As daylight began to fade fast and inevitably hand itself over to the darkness, you went back to the house to fry up the chicken. The stove was effective, although one burner seemed a little on the fritz, but half of the cabinetry was unfinished and the counter space was minimal.

Laying out the cream-colored napkins and the finest china you had brought packed securely in a box, you delicately set the table. Despite not having a birth mother to guide you through womanhood, you took to home keeping fairly well and religiously read the magazines, believing being married to an upper class man meant all these details and roles. But privately you also felt the crushing pressure and caught yourself wondering if you were immature to be in this mold. Robert never told you otherwise though and he would theoretically be the last man to stamp out a woman's sense of inner individuality, but you couldn't ignore the fact you, while willingly, still had to sideline your educational and career priorities to come support and live here with your husband. But it didn't matter too much, for you knew in your heart you could follow this man to the ends of the earth if you so desired.

For good ambient measure, you lit two pillar candles in the center of the tablecloth and just as you laid the food on a plate, you heard the front door crack open and the soft clomping of shoes.

Robert would never be the 'Honey, I'm home!' type of husband, yet he always managed to make an entrance regardless, especially now. His slender frame leaned into the doorway, hands crumpling his hat in front of his crotch and the candlelight flashed harrowing ghoulish shadows across his sharp cheekbones and dull pinkish lips.

"Well, what do you think?" you proposed, gesturing to the table spread when he didn't speak. He only gazed at your feminine features, his eyes full of desire that wasn't for the dinner you made, and when his mouth finally parted, he spoke in a husky voice, slowly coming closer and abandoning his hat to a chair, closing in on you.

"I'm sure it is very palatable, but I fear my hunger cannot be fulfilled by only earthly consumption," he confessed, ducking to kiss your cheek and moving his hands up to your neck, caressing your nape and moving his mouth to your lips, but you gently pushed him away, pressing into the fabric of his gray suit jacket.

"We should wait until after dinner," you told him earnestly, knowing what he wanted instead.

"Dessert, then?" he murmured, coming close again despite your light physical resistance and thumbing your bottom lip. You smiled and his arm snaked under your skirt and between your thighs, hand crawling upward to your panties and you breathed in, changing your mind.

"Maybe I can wait to eat after all."

His breath caught, a single finger inches from hitting your covered vaginal area, before he removed his teasing hand and pulled back, gripping your shoulders with conviction.

"Eat. You deserve it and you worked hard on preparing it, I can observe."

He bent down, gentlemanly drawing out a chair for you to sit down in, which you did, letting his hands linger at the neckline of your blouse before he walked around to the other side of the small round table and took a seat, rummaging out a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and striking it up with his lighter, the smoke wafting in wispy trails around his head. You took a careful first bite, relishing in the flavor and spices (paprika in particular) as he sat there across from you, relaxing back in his chair and taking a drag on the cigarette, puffing out a sigh. You smirked, swallowing a forkful as he kept his gaze steady on you.

"You're making me self conscious, just sitting there surveying my appetite," you told him and he grinned, fiddling with the cigarette.

"I enjoy watching you eat. You are the very essence of life I see lacking in so much of this world."

You blushed in the warm glow of the candlelight, remaining humble.

"That is quite a compliment I don't know if I'm quite worthy of."

"You are, no jury would contradict me." He nodded sincerely as he smoked and you ate in silence for a few minutes before he then finally gave his cigarette a rest and poked at his food, politely taking a few bites of hot chicken and chewing at a snail's pace.

"How did today go?" you tentatively asked, finishing off your own chicken and moving to the rich, crunchy coleslaw.

"We will be making progress. Although I will always say, that General Groves is the most obstinate man with the exact deposition one would expect from a bulldog," he answered with a touch of bitter amusement.

"Should you be saying that? They're... not listening, are they?" you asked in a hushed paranoid voice, glancing around the room and knowing that the phone lines were tapped for sure, but you weren't certain they would go as far to place bugging devices hidden in the house.

"Relax, I could say much worse," Robert admitted nonchalantly with a harmless shrug and you allowed yourself a chuckle, mentally picturing a bulldog in a General's uniform. You took a bite of cabbage, changing the conversation to your side of social contacts in this limited town.

"I met with our neighbors and the other ladies today. They seem cordial and we have already exchanged pleasantries and plans for a party next weekend. I also offered to babysit one mother's two rambunctious little boys and spoke to the doctor at the medical facility about assistance there."

Robert nodded, gesturing with his empty fork.

"Keeping busy I see, but I'll have to arrange to let you in the office sometime instead of spending your days cooped up here and at the neighbors. I missed you and your insight already today."

"But you know I am not privy to everything you and your scientists are doing here..." you started to protest before he cut you off.

"I'm well aware, but I doubt a visit to my own office will cause a security uproar. You are my wife, Y/N. The reason most of the scientists came to Los Alamos in the first place was not solely the work, but because they could bring their wives, their families. We do our best work with moral and... sexual support." He raised his eyebrows and you felt a tingle run through you, a yearning for exactly what he was suggesting, but you had to finish the meal first.

Once you cleared most of your plate, he surprised you by taking the dishes and quickly rinsing the plates in the sink before making and pouring out his signature martinis. You knew Robert must be silently stressed however, for he only took one sip of his drink before he moved outside under the roof awning with his tobacco pipe, settling down on a folding chair and gazing out at the landscape and listening to the low mumble of military personnel mingling about on patrol as though this were a prison (which it was).

You joined him with a cigarette a few minutes later (you had never smoked a single cigarette until you married Robert and unconsciously adopted the habit, but you weren't much of a smoker when it made you cough, yet you kind of enjoyed the nicotine having that convenient effect of temporarily soothing your nerves) and positioned yourself down next to him, letting the cigarette dangle from your lips while folding your hands neatly on your knees.

His eyelids were appearing heavy and his head drooped, chin tucking down. You gave him a bumping nudge and he looked over at you, teeth clamped down on his pipe.

"Tired?" you wondered and he gave a noncommittal grunt, fixing his eyes back straight ahead. You noticed how still he was - calm - and it was a welcome change from the past few weeks where he had been wound up, constantly on the phone at one point or another and gone for many hours in meetings. But now that nearly everyone was all here, it was almost too tranquil... giving the illusion of calm before potential chaos.

"Oppie!" a young man's voice suddenly called out and he came jogging into view on the rock slabbed pathway, halting slightly when he saw you.

"Oh, good evening Ma'am," he greeted courteously with a squinted smile. You smiled in turn, nodding, and he focused to Robert, who gave a tilt of his pipe in acknowledgement and stood up stiffly.

"Any news I should know about, Feynman?"

The man paused, glancing to you warily.

"Is it about the nature of our work?" Robert asked sharply and Feynman shook his head.

"No, sir, it is not pertaining to that."

"Well, whatever it is you can say in front of my wife and I then."

"It's just a communicative matter. There was a phone call from a young woman asking for you earlier that was flagged in the office for personal matters concerning security. Groves is in a fit and I was to inform you tomorrow, but I thought I'd give fair warning and-"

"Then I will address it tomorrow," Robert interrupted and without further word, took your arm and marched you back inside the house. You shook off his touch and shut the door hard, spinning to address him.

"What the hell was that about?"

He closed his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his forehead while exhaling.

"There are intimate ghosts that continue to haunt me," he answered cryptically, taking refuge in the lounge and sipping his martini, but you had a hunch however who was the "ghost" because you knew her and you pointed a finger sternly at him.

"This is about Jean, isn't it? How does she even know to contact this location? And I thought you were all done with her, as you are with that Katherine!"

"I am, I swear to it. But she is different than any other woman I have been with before you, though. She can be... unstable and she may need to hear from me."

"She just wants your sex, that's all!"

"It's more complicated than that."

"You had nights with her while you were having nights with me during courting, I heard about it from our friends. It was still the sex that was the driving factor that she desired from you."

He looked down, unable to deny that entirely and you backed away, shaking your head.

"I can't believe this, the first day here and you can't shake those Communist ties trailing us."

"May I remind you that you considered fully joining once upon a time in the not so distant past? We met at such a social function, remember?"

You bit your lip and refused to meet his wide eyes staring a hole into you, for this was very well true.

"I did, but I overcame it. It's ridiculous to devote one's energy to an ideology and not to concrete, practical solutions. I was never devoted and absolutely do not consider myself a member. I never was."

This made Robert scowl, setting his glass down with a clink.

"It is my opinion that you should be free to choose your dogmas, if you want any at all that is. Belief is voluntary, but it shouldn't be a crime; we all deserve our wiggle room."

"Is that what she told you too?"

He licked his lips, stepping close so you were involuntarily arrested by his blue eyes boring into yours and his hand slid up your arm, finding your shoulder and the bra strap peeking out from the neckline of the blouse.

"I see you put one on," he muttered and you blinked, almost forgetting about that little detail and refusing to be seduced by his perceptivity.

"Yes, I did. My breasts are still sore from that uncomfortable car ride."

"It's a shame they are so contained now," he whispered, beginning to undo the buttons on the blouse and push his fingers into the crevice between your breasts, but you weren't quite having it after the unresolved discussion and the way he had been moments before.

"We are going to do this now? After what I just accused? And besides, I thought you were too preoccupied and planning to sit out there half the night smoking away by your lonesome while I go to bed."

"You make nights worth bearing awake, especially tonight." He shifted, groping at your breasts and you stumbled back into the wall, breathing in shallow gasps. He put a finger to his lips conspiratorially and hugged your body with his own, speaking discreetly.

"We should be quiet to not disturb any nearby neighbors."

"They can't hear us and besides, I'm sick of piping down," you whined, remembering the date nights out in the desert where he'd lay out a picnic blanket and fuck you right then and there with the horses grazing several feet away and the canopy of stars winking overhead. You'd make as much noise as merited, probably confusing the yipping coyotes far off in the distance.

"I think we can try to control our auditory impulses for one night," Robert whispered, hands going to your waist and tugging at your skirt.

"The bedroom," you gasped, rushing away from him and down the narrow hallway, twisting around as he chased you with a huff.

"Where is it?" you asked anxiously, opening a couple doors and unfamiliar to this section of the house in the minimal lighting, when he suddenly pushed you from behind into an empty room with a single large king bed.

"Only the best for us," he told you and you fell forwards onto it, kicking your heels off and quickly flipping around to your back as he loosened his tie, casting it off to the floor and unbuttoning his white shirt as you sat up, reaching needily for his belt buckle and he leaned over onto you now shirtless and when he met your lips in a frantic kiss, you then noticed the prudent stench of sweat on his skin that was disrupting his usual familiar smoky flavor mixed with cologne and aftershave.

"Wait," you ordered, pressing a hand up on his collarbone.

"What is it?" he implored worriedly, searching your expression for the solution.

"Bath, you should bathe. It's been a few days and this heat isn't helping. Hasn't anyone told you that you reek like a dog?"

He groaned mournfully, leaning back and unfastening the belt, tossing it to the floor with a clunk of metal.

"You won't let me have you until I do?" he asked sadly, but you had an idea.

"What if I join you?"

His eyes sparked at this notion and you moved off the bed, finding the bathroom across the hall. This house was one of only a few equipped with tubs instead of showers; they didn't call this street "Bathtub Row" for nothing.

Robert finished undressing in front of you, tugging down his trousers and boxers, springing forth an already ready penis.

"You're going to make me work for it tonight, aren't you?" he asked as he stepped into the large basin, turning on the faucet and letting out a gasp when a strong stream of water blasted onto his bare feet.

"J-Jesus Christ, it's freezing!" he exclaimed loudly with a sputter and frantically slamming a hand on the knob as you laughed from your spot by the sink, taking out your earrings and slipping off your small wristwatch.

"Get in, I was warned about the water supply around here possibly being fickle, even for us," he commanded as you finagled your skirt and blouse off with your bra and panties discarded to the bathroom floor before taking a leg over the tub and stepping in to sit down across from him, letting the tub fill up one third of the way as a sitz bath before awkwardly reaching around him to grab the bar of ivory soap from the dish and began to rub into his back with it.

"I should've put in a request for an even larger bath," he complained as you scrunched up your legs against his and scrubbed dutifully into the folds of his skin.

"It'll do fine, darling."

He took the soap and you both took turns lathering each other up, making frothy circles with the creamy soap and rinsing, the water streaming down into the tub again, flooding both yours and his soapy complexion, washing it all off down the drain before having it fill up again, this time three quarters of the way. The water now pleasantly lukewarm, Robert contorted his body to submerge his head under the waterline and he came up with a loud splash, his wiry dark hair flattening to a wet mess on his forehead as your own dampened and you watched the droplets of water collect on his somewhat pallid skin. He scooted closer, entangling legs, and couldn't resist a quick dart of a finger down to your vagina and you whimpered as he touched your clitoris, inserting into you and making you arch your back and buck your hips when he inserted another finger, exploring around your wet velvety walls.

"God, Robert..." you moaned, digging your nails into the grooves of his skin and up to his head, feeling the cropped soaked scalp and neck. He suddenly lightly shoved you against the side of the tub, pressing his mouth to yours and naturally winding his tongue in, kissing you passionately until the water temperature grew too cold and you shivered, glued to his body and burying your face into his wet shoulder.

"That was merely the first act, sweetheart," he whispered and you smiled, leaning back a few inches so he could get up and step out onto the bath mat, taking your hand as he did so to pull you up and guide you out. Robert grabbed a large towel from the rack and wound it around the both of you, letting his genitals press up against yours and you both stood there for a while, listening to the steady drip-drop-drip-drop-drip-drop of falling water to the flooring.

"I'm surprised you've held off this long," you murmured, feeling his rising erection in between your thighs.

"I truly can't wait any longer," he admitted urgently and the towel dropped with a flump to the floor, and with bodies still slick with water, you and him exited the bathroom to fumble to the bedroom and the blue light from the window illuminated the sheets, the ideal love making spot. He let you collapse on your back and easily came down on top, gripping the back of your neck and already plunging in to align, but you squirmed in dissatisfaction.

"So soon?" you whined, wanting to play with and taste him first, but he was antsy to get to the pinnacle.

"Your virtuous patience should be framed and put on the walls of this house, along with your divine beauty," he whispered, head moving down to your breasts and you dug your fingers into his bare back, running along the bones of his more pronounced spine.

"C'mon, Oppie, let's do this the fun way... Give it to me," you begged and he cringed slightly, but rolled over onto his side and you immediately found his stiff penis with your hands, clenching around it firmly and stroking. He moaned softly and it flexed in your grasp... He could be a decent size when engaged, which was impressive for his underweight body.

"But don't you dare let me go without seeding you inside," he warned as though you had all the control.

"That's the plan."

Wordlessly, you positioned yourself down to the head of his cock and licked off his pre-cum, the recognizable taste milky on your tongue and you sucked, bringing it halfway in and fondling his balls lovingly in the meantime. He was breathing heavily and you didn't linger long at his member however because you could tell he was getting very close and neither you nor him wanted him to release anywhere other than the intended internal target. Pulling out and licking your lips, you repositioned your body on top of his and sank down flat to his chest, and he thrusted his hips up to meet you, heaving in with a grunt. You winced at the initial entry; you were always so sensitive down there (especially since the miscarriage), and he steadily kept at it, probing in further without being too rough.

"Fuck..." you breathed with a cry and he came forward to smooch your cheek as you mounted your hands on his shoulders and he pumped in and out, shaking the entire bed.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, my love," he breathed, keeping an intense gaze trained on you.

"Robert..." you groaned, letting him push as far as he could go until the pleasure was overloading and you felt his hot wet spurt of cum hit, eliciting a long moan from him, his slender frame shuddering beneath you. He closed his eyes and you kept a firm clench around his shaft, not ready to have him pull out yet. Gasping, you began rocking back and forth with ecstasy, your insides stretched to their limit and he seemed to know you were struggling to hold him.

"I'm coming out," he muttered and gently pulled back wetly so he wasn't balls deep in you anymore and then you repositioned to lightly ride him, which was your favorite position, and you bounced up and down on his upright full cock, orgasming a few more times as he watched your euphoria in rapture, so proud he alone could make you like this over and over until you were out of air and exhausted, collapsing to the side of the bed and feeling the sheets very damp with bodily juices.

Robert spooned you from behind, arms draped over to dangle his fingers on your swollen nipples and you matched his breathing in rhythm. Every time was somehow better than the last... Sex with him was as natural as breathing and you appreciated the consistent chemistry that you worried would have faded after a couple years of marriage due to what you'd heard about stress and boredom destroying a couple's sex drive, but Robert was not a boring person in the least sense of the term.

"We should do this every night," you offered hopefully and he chuckled.

"And make me the most lucky, tired man in this whole community? I'd be up for that, although it'll be a wonder if I get any work done at all when I've got this memory lingering with me tomorrow," he replied and you heard the smile in his tone, but with it came the bitter resurgence of the likely phone call from another woman that was bile in the back of your throat and even though he supposedly broke it off with her before you got married, you knew he had stayed in contact and you couldn't help but wonder how he fucked her and if it was comparable to what you and him had with each other, since she seemed to want him so badly. That wasn't to mention "Kitty" who he had insisted on still being "friends" with. A bit depressed and irritated, you pushed away his hands off your breasts and turned back over to face him in the dimness that made even those prominent blue colored eyes of his too muddled to see into.

"How did you become the most desired physicist to women in the whole country?" you asked softly.

"Good genes?" he guessed in amusement and you shook your head, not requiring a punchline.

"You're known to be a womanizer, neurotic, eccentric, a tad arrogant, and yet everybody seems to want you, including me as your own wife. Tell me, why did the universe give you such magnetized gifts?"

He gave a subtle lift of his shoulders with a small lazy smile as you laid your head on the pillow, fending off fatigue.

"Why was Aphrodite the one chosen to be blessed with such beauty and fertility? Why are we the way that we are? There are some matters of the human being to be unfounded in the definitive and everything is relative." He sat up with his back against the headboard and proceeded to light another cigarette and you sleepily watched the hazy smoke drift off above the bed towards the ceiling. He sighed, setting it to rest in the ashtray on the nightstand and wrap his lean arm around your body, drawing you close into his side.

"You are my goddess, Y/N. You are the only woman I want to return home too, always. Don't you know that?" he murmured into your hair and you vaguely nodded.

"I do, but I also know you're not always the most faithful man."

He lifted his hand and touched his ring finger to yours, matching the simple gold bands you both shared as two united.

"I married you out of good faith and the vows we pledged might have well been written in stone in the language of the gods along on the pulmonary arteries flowing as though a river into my heart," he told you with no trace of doubt, but you knew the whole story that didn't need flourishing.

"Only because the two other women fell through on commitment - although tonight I suspect they both presumably still want you - and one was already hitched, so she was having an affair by being with you and wouldn't divorce unless you happened to get her pregnant. I just happened to be the most available, the convenient bride with no attached strings, even though everyone said it was abnormally soon and I am too young," you recounted bitterly and he frowned, tilting your chin upward.

"Is that how you see it? I have never fallen for someone as fast and as hard as I did for you. I still feel the way I did when I laid a glimpse on you at Mary Ellen Washburn's party."

You smiled despite yourself and he bent to kiss the top of your head as you snuggled into his chest, absentmindedly fondling his moist cock with your fingers.

"I do love you beyond comprehension, Y/N," he whispered and you glanced up, meeting his look.

"I do too and I want to believe I always will, until the end of our existence. I am not those other women and I do not want to become so."

A solemn seriousness grew over him and he closed his eyes as you felt tears suddenly spike and an unexplainable terrible sense of dread came over you.

"Promise me one thing, Robert." You paused, taking a deep breath.

"Promise me that whatever happens to us in this world, in this setting, that you will always find a way home and whatever we face, we face together."

He gave a single nod, but you sensed reluctance in the way a muscle in his jaw made a minor spasm.

"I will always do my best."

"Alright," you resigned and he sighed, relaxing back and settling down into the sheets, further roping his arms around you and you burrowed your face into his chest, feeling his light hair follicles tickle your forehead. Tomorrow - and the future for that matter - was uncertain, but at least tonight was building up to a promise of solid sureness, a safeness, bonding those atoms of love again.

Love, or the feeling of it, was a lot like quantum mechanics; essentially invisible to the naked eye and complicated, but the one difference was that it was unmeasurable. No amount of numbers or equations could add up the real affection you felt for your husband, even when the waters became too choppy to be comfortable and it was far from perfect. You just had to cement the fact that you were Mrs. Oppenheimer and that wasn't going to change anytime soon, any disruptive external factors be absolutely damned to hell.

Thanks for reading, expect a little drama for chapter 2... And I do not have a full outline to every part of this fic, so please be patient as I find spare time to work on it and upload. I always appreciate any likes, reblogs, and feedback ❤️

*If anyone would be interested in being tagged, drop a comment and I'll make a tag list for the next part!*

471 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

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infinitegalahad · 1 year ago

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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

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lacontroller1991 · 6 months ago

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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

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lacontroller1991 · 7 months ago

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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

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lacontroller1991 · 10 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

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weirdworldofwinnie · 1 year ago

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Heat of the Moment - One Night Passion

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Reader NSFW 18+ only, One shot

Summary: You, a young psychology student and friend of Jean Tatlock, drink a little too much at a Communist gathering and find yourself falling for the esteemed Dr. Oppenheimer himself.

Word Count: 3,830

Warnings: Age gap, Cheating, Drunkenness, Loss of virginity, Unprotected sex, Smut with little plot

Disclaimer: this is ONLY intended to be based on Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer in the film and takes place before he marries Kitty, moves to Los Alamos, and the development of the Trinity Test bomb. NOT historically or scientifically accurate and not supposed to be in support of the real man's life actions at all. DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this. It is purely for entertainment purposes, and it is fantasy/fiction!

The party was brimming with people, many being prominent due-payers of the Communist party and you met your friend Jean's eye across the room through the warm glow and haze of cigarettes. She was standing with a few men and one woman as you approached, noticing one well dressed man in particular who had his back to you and you felt your heart involuntarily stutter when he turned, his wide strikingly blue eyes on you intensely. You swallowed and then Jean introduced you and he simply nodded with an amicable smile before turning back to the others in their discussion huddle. You were at bit surprised at his dismissiveness, but didn't take it too personally as you drifted over to get a drink from the bar area. Holding a full cocktail glass, you casually observed the room, noticing at once how Dr. Oppenheimer had one of those magnetic personalities, as long as you were an intellectual (although he was a good enough speaker that he could capture the attention of the common man and likely even someone who knew absolutely nothing about physics), yet at the same time he tended to eclipse everyone else around him. They all seemed to orbit around him in a fashion and the longer the night drew on, you too found yourself drawn to his quiet charisma and you now were seeing what Jean saw in him. After an hour of drinking and mingling around in various conversations, you mustered up the nerve to approach his ring again and stood next to your friend with only a couple other people you didn't know chatting to him about his teaching at Berkeley. He glanced at you, his eyes lighting with more interest than the initial impression.

"Hello again, Miss Y/N. Excuse me," he told the others and moved, breaking their circle to focus on you alone.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked politely but without waiting for an answer, he went to personally make a martini himself and then pour it into a crystal glass, topping it with a slice of lime. You were empty handed at the moment, but neglected to tell him you'd already had two glasses of alcohol already. He gave the filled glass to you, his fingers brushing your wrist as he did and you thanked him as he leaned against the counter with his own drink that almost mirrored yours.

"It's my preferential recipe. Do you like it?" he asked curiously as you drank and decided it tasted a bit bitter and tangy, so you just raised your eyebrows and smiled assuredly with what you thought was a convincing nod, however, he must have seen otherwise.

"Too bitter, isn't it? I'm working on it; it would probably be better off with a dash of honey." He raised his glass and suddenly swapped it with yours, taking a sip and giving a satisfied expression.

"Hmm, right. I'll remedy it and I do apologize, I was actually just testing you there for your opinion. I'll have this one, you enjoy mine instead."

Unsure of whether you should be flattered or not, you drank his original and it was more appeasing of your sweet tooth, and then he proceeded to ask you about what you were currently studying and how long you knew Jean.

You gave him simple answers at first, feeling a bit shy and guarded compared to the spotlight he projected. He was far from being a loud, obnoxious man but he wasn't timid in the slightest when it came knowledge and he gave off an air of aloofness and professionalism that slowly broke the more you opened up about psychology and politics while making it clear to him you considered yourself a somewhat free spirit trying to make your way in a predominantly male run world. It was refreshing to you that he actually sincerely listened and wasn't too condescending like other men you had encountered in the field.

"Interesting. Have you considered applying that to a career for the future, I assume you are aiming for a psychology degree? Or is it a base point to advance you into becoming a psychiatrist? I'm sure you would be able use medicine in addition to your Freudian theories to mitigate such deep mental issues."

"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm only my second year in for psychology and I doubt my father will pay for addition schooling on top of that, but theoretically yes, I would love to. It's my passion and I have a prudent desire to assist others, not just study them under a detached microscopic lens, so to speak. I want to help people understand who they are and I myself want to understand why their brains work the way that they do. And if some disorders could be cured with certain drugs when all else fails, I would consider that a great accomplishment for humanitarian progress."

"That certainly is a valuable asset, to understand one's self, and especially in this rapidly complicated changing world and the more we have a stronger grasp of the human mind, the better off we will be I suppose. But remember, to know is to do. Theory will only take you so far."

You nodded, soaking that in and taking an ample sip from the drink, which was spurring you on in confidence, so you began to ramble on about the damaging psychological impacts of war before jumping to the effects of practical versus ideological Communism on modern society... at least until a young man interrupted, joining the two of you for a while and you let Oppenheimer divert his attention to him instead as they delved into more physics, which you honestly only had a basic understanding of. You drained down the rest of the martini, refilling it with a simple gin instead to sip more than you should and you definitely were feeling tipsy as the evening wore on to a close, hovering by Oppenheimer's side constantly and perhaps even unconsciously flirting while ignoring Jean's stares from several feet away. He wasn't paying attention at the moment, so you turned to set down your empty glass, but stumbled into a stool on the way. You spun around, feeling Dr. Oppenheimer place a hand on your shoulder, steadying you.

"Perhaps you should retire for the night," he advised softly, close to your ear.

"No… I'm fine," you insisted, the heat rising to your cheeks as he took your shaky hand and you caught Jean giving you one last glare before she disappeared into a murky corner of the room. You looked back to him staring at you concernedly and you blinked as he spoke quietly.

"There, now where are you staying? Surely it can't be far, I'll take you home."

"N-No, my apartment's the next town over and you don't have to, I-I think I'll be okay..." you stammered absurdly and wavered on your feet, not the least bit sober. He changed direction, pivoting to catch you under your arms, and propping you up straighter.

"I believe there is a spare bedroom upstairs, I'll take you to it." Without another word, he led you out of the room and tottering up creaky stairs that led to an upper floor. A few doors down, he took you into an empty small stuffy room with a single queen bed. As you collapsed onto it, sighing deeply after a hiccup, he brushed aside the beige curtains and opened the window, letting the cool night air flicker through.

"Stay here, I'll be right back with some water," he said and exited for a few minutes, coming back shortly with two glasses of water in his hands, one for himself that he took a careful gulp from and you found yourself wondering if his mouth was dry or if he could be nervous. You accepted your cold glass and drank, washing down the strong mix of cocktails and gin taste from your tongue.

"A bit better?" he asked kindly, getting a nod in return as he took the glass from you and set it down on the bedside table next to his own. You watched as he stepped over and stood in front of the window, rustling the curtains. He stayed still there for a while in a pondering pose, smoking and staring out at the street below, presumably lost in thought as he often was. You made a sort of groaning noise and he turned, hand on his hip with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Are you going to be sick? Should I call for someone?"

"No!" you gasped, sitting up with a swirl of the room as he strode over to the door. You did not need your parents to find out about this, especially your father.

"Wait - Please don't leave," you begged and he hesitantly came over, abandoning his cigarette in the ash tray on the nightstand next to the glasses of water and sitting down, getting a good look at your bloodshot eyes and tousled hair, a few strands obscuring your vision. He gently took his hand and wiped the hairs off to the side of your face, his touch on your flushed cheek sending shivers up your spine. He leaned back, putting his hands on his knees and you let out a shaky breath, trying to reorient.

"Have you ever drank before?" he inquired knowingly and you laughed weakly.

"Of course I have."

"I'm afraid that you overdid it this time or otherwise you must have a low tolerance. I only offered you one drink after all." He held up his right hand, splaying his fingers apart.

"How many do you see?" he asked seriously and you only giggled, pushing his hand down.

"Five, maybe six? I feel finnee."

He shook his head, maybe amused, and you had the impulse to climb onto his lap, so you began to slide over, swinging your legs and scooting halfway onto his lap, making him blink in surprise and gasp slightly.

"What are you…?"

You shushed him and wrapped your arms seductively around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder with your ruby lips inches from his neck. He put his hand on your back uneasily and you whispered in his ear.

"Could you carry me to the bathroom?"

"I can't - What? Why?"

"I might be sick."

He pushed away, letting you slip off his slender body and sitting back onto the sheets with a light laugh.

"I think you should lie down again," he said firmly and you flumped your head onto the pillows, your face burning as he stood up, moving around to tug your feet out of your heels and then his hand caught, wrapping his fingers around your ankle and sending a sensation up your legs. You tilted forward, reading his oddly grim expression.

"What is it?"

"I should leave," he murmured, tossing the shoes to the floor and removing his hand reluctantly.

"You don't have to," you told him earnestly, struggling to grasp for him as he stayed at the end of the bed.

"You aren't in a normal state of mind, I'm afraid."

"Are you?"

"Not as much as I should be," he admitted with a sigh, knowing it would be inappropriate to sleep with Jean's friend that he had just met and it was unknown if you had a boyfriend or not.

"Well, I doon't caaare…" you slurred out and he went to sit on the bed next to you as you shifted, sitting up with your elbows. Dr. Oppenheimer gazed fondly and then you both began to instinctively lean into each other, his nose meeting yours and he tilted his head, giving you the incentive to lock lips and slide your tongue into his mouth, letting him reciprocate slowly until both parties pulled away, you panting excitedly.

This seemed to cause a chain reaction that had him scooting over closely so he was fully on the bed, loping his arms around at your back and you tugged at his black tie, wrestling with undoing it as he let go of you to shrug off his suit jacket and discard it, his breathing quickening. He slipped off his shoes and socks, dropping them over the bed with a clump before his fingers found the zipper on the back of your dress and he fumbled, forcing it down and letting it pool off your body to the sheets, running a hand over your bare skin. Pausing slightly with his hands nearing to unfastening your bra, he murmured urgently.

"Don't tell Jean about this."

"But she's my friend," you protested loudly and he put a finger to your lips with a 'shh' that made your heart palpitate.

"I don't want her to find out the hard way."

"She… She'll figure it out, right?"

"She may, but I don't want it to come from you. This is all my doing, I'll take the responsibility for my own actions, do you understand?"

"Oh yes, I do Mister J. Robert 'Oppie' Oppenheimer… What's the J stand for anyway?"

"Nothing important," he replied shortly and you reached to feel his bottom lip, smiling in curiosity.

"C'mon, tell me. Is it John, James, Joe...?"

He shook his head, closing his eyes and you laughed, tracing his defined cheekbones with your fingers.

"It's Julius," he admitted almost sheepishly and you cocked your head, cupping his chin.

"As in Julius Caesar?"

He wet his lips, the corners of his mouth twitching in annoyed amusement.

"Et tu, Miss Y/N?" He paused for a fraction of a second with a light sigh.

"Just call me Robert," he then told you and leaned in to kiss you again, caressing the sides of your face as he did so and you eagerly wound your tongue with his, passionately pressing into his face. He smelled heady; smoky and of aftershave mixed with some brand of cologne, not overpowering but enough to be noticed and mildly sting your nostrils when you went to mouth his neck.

He moved to hover over you, hands grazing your nearly naked body. You let him take the bra and he flung it over his shoulder to the floor and all that was left was your panties. You unbuttoned his light blue dress shirt and opened it up, stroking the light hairs on his chest as he fingered your panties, the last barrier to whatever was going to come into effect. Robert ran a single finger up along your abdomen and past to one of your breasts, circling the nipple and it hardened substantially at the stimulation, which he transferred over to the other one, teasingly fingering back and forth before he sank his face into your chest, his tongue trailing where his fingers had been and you whined, letting the budding arousal take you higher. Then he retracted his mouth, moving back and going to himself, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, popping them open to reveal boxers concealing his burgeoning, bulging cock with tightening testicles. He wriggled out of his pants, kicking them away to hang off the side of the bed and he leaned over, coming to hover on top of you and you felt the pressing of the underwear fabric hiding his growing penis, and you felt inclined to slide your hands down to grope it, fingers yanking at the band around his waist.

"Go ahead, take it," he encouraged and you pulled the boxers down, seeing he was already dripping with precum and your breath came in pants, anxious to feel him, but the rational part of your alcohol tainted brain was reminding you that you'd never taken it this far with a man before. He shifted, supporting himself by pressing his palms to the cream colored plump pillow behind your head and immediately settling over to align. You felt him trying to enter, your clitoris throbbing with anticipation, but he wasn't successful at first of getting in.

"God, you are too tight," he muttered and you froze, staring up at him as Robert now realized the exact nature of you.

"First time ever?" he asked with trepidation and you nodded somewhat shamefully, embarrassed. It wasn't like you hadn't been with men before, but this was the first for it to get this far with full-on penetration. He closed his eyes for a second, controlling his patience for he wanted so desperately to come inside of you, but he had to ask.

"How old are you?"

"I - Is that important?"

"Just please tell me you're at least 21 and don't lie about it."

"Yes, I'm over 21."

"Alright. Well, there's a first time for everything. I'll go slower."

He shimmied down your naked body until his head was at your vagina and he put his hands up on your stomach, massaging vigorously into your skin, eliciting a tiny happy moan. You never felt this aroused around anyone before and just his hands on any part of your body was pleasurable, so you hoisted your hips up to meet his touch. But then he stopped abruptly, displaying two fingers and you squinted, body aching for more.

"How many I am holding up now?" he asked and a delirious giggle erupted from you.

"T-Two."

"Correct," he praised and promptly slid them up into your moist entry, causing you to cringe painfully and make a noise that made you clamp your own hand over your mouth, afraid the people downstairs might hear.

"How is that? Okay?" he asked in a hushed voice, anxious to go further and you just nodded, taking deep breaths.

You were now getting so wet and he started pumping his fingers in and out, eventually gaining traction with three in and you were whimpering and moaning, so close to orgasming when he pulled them all out and sat back on his haunches, his tongue flicking across his lips in a kind of hunger.

"Don't stop," you pleaded and Robert's eyes were dilated with desire as he came down, burrowing his head in-between your thighs, gripping your legs and kissing your pussy before lifting his head and looking at you squarely.

"Oh, I won't."

Without further ado, he repositioned himself over you and slowly pushed in, his cock breaking at your walls. You moaned, the pleasure outweighing the sharp pain and you clenched around his shaft, letting him penetrate as far as he could go into your core. Within moments, you let the orgasm ripple through you as he kept at it, coming to his own climax that wasn't going to be outside of you.

"Fuck, this feels good..." you breathed, rubbing your palms on Robert's short cut dark hair and he couldn't hold back any longer... exploding with his own euphoria, emitting a primal grunt that became a loud gasp. He pulled out wetly a few moments later, shuddering from the exertion and you reeled in what had just happened. You just had intercourse with this brilliant man… Oh God. And you didn't want it to stop; you weren't done yet.

You rolled over so you were on top of his body now and you carefully settled down so you were sitting on his upright swollen cock and the rubbing of it against your clit was making you close to orgasming for the second time.

"Stop," he gasped suddenly, trying to push you away.

"W-Why?"

"That's how she does it." He frowned, licking his lips and you didn't have to ask to know who he was talking about.

"Do you… like it?"

"Yes, of course, but-"

"Then I'm doing it, it feels good for me too," you told him with no arguments allowed and both of you began to rock back and forth, his still hardened dick pushing up against your vagina. He thrusted in again and you groaned, quivering.

"Oh, good girl," he whispered and you almost lost it at the tone of his slightly husky voice. You certainly never got that from the few men you'd courted briefly that had turned out to be too immature or pigheaded. This man actually felt like a real decent, more experienced man.

"Robert...!" you squealed, letting the boom of climaxing implode inside of you. You leaned back, letting him slide out and you gripped his slick dick mixed with fluids from both you and him, your nails very gently stroking it as he smiled, throwing his head back against the pillow in relaxation and pure joy.

You orgasmed a couple more times after that, each nearly as strong as the last which was new to you. What the hell was it about Robert that made your libido go off the charts?

Finally the two of you collapsed back together, staring up at the ceiling above in ecstasy. His chest was rising and falling in rhythm with yours and gradually your body cooled down, though your face still felt hot and a dull headache was coming on, but the night breeze from the window was making goosebumps pepper up on your skin.

"Cold?" Robert asked softly, noticing.

"Mm-hmm."

He sat up and grabbed his wrinkled boxers before deftly swinging a leg out of bed, getting up to the floor and yanking them back on. He also hastily snatched up his pants and slid back into them, not bothering to zip or buckle as he went over to the window and peered out once more at the street, then firmly shut it, closing the curtains securely and heading back over to the bed, lifting a corner of the sheets up and crawling in next to your bare body.

You scooted under the sheets and cuddled into his slim side, playfully fiddling with a button on his open shirt and letting him wrap an arm around you as you dozed off, listening to the faint ticking of his wristwatch, feeling utterly fucked out and exhausted. He fought his own fatigue, considering getting up and leaving you in case someone found the two of you up here, lest it be Jean, but you felt so cozy and close, he couldn't bear to disconnect and leave you alone for the night.

He wasn't entirely sure what would become of this drunken rendezvous encounter that you may not remember entirely, knowing very well it was likely he may never find himself loving you like this again. He loved Jean, he very much did, but he wondered if you would accept his flowers as easily as you had accepted his sex? Jean was most definitely a complicated, intelligent woman and he wasn't sure if you were in the same vein as her, but it wouldn't surprise him if you were. Was he drawn to any other type, really? Women were fascinating to explore, a close second to the hidden world of quantum physics.

Robert studied your pretty sleeping features in the dim lighting and then closed his eyes, letting the orange aura of the room drift the both of you away far off into nothingness…

(Thanks for reading and if you really liked this, please let me know! I'm rather new to Cillian Murphy and not well versed at all in writing one of his characters with smut, but there was just something I found so attractively compelling about him as Oppenheimer especially, so maybe this is a bit self-indulgent, but he's such a great actor that is also very sexy of course.❤️)

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weirdworldofwinnie · 1 year ago

Text

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Six: Lover's Games

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: You feel a need to follow up with Ernest Lawrence, much to Robert's dismay, and also uncover buried information that makes you turn rather rebellious.

Word Count: ~7,592

Warnings: Martial angst, infidelity, age gap, unwanted advances, slight physical violence, period stereotypical gender roles, clothed sex, some orgasm denial and sexual humiliation

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy. It is essentially very much a dramatization and AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer, Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence, Jack Quaid as Richard Feynman, etc. from the film only while other characters are my own entirely made up ones!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Tag List: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @uniquetacofun, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86, @lacontroller1991, @kishie8, @anime-lover-forever-1127

If you'd like to be added to the list, let me know please.

June 1943

You waited a couple of weeks after the party to move past the point of just taking actual action only in consideration in the sense of springing a scheme by meeting up with Lawrence, keeping Robert under the radar all the while and he himself was certainly distant, (distracted by work of course) but also deliberately choosing to give you space. It was fine, but it made you uneasy of how much he was extracting his emotions and you were starting to feel as if you were on a carpet of thin eggshells every moment you and him were alone together, which was usually only at night sleeping in the same bed.

Weekday dinners were a polite affair as well and you mostly ate for yourself, him eating a portion of his plate before he went to shut himself in his designated office room and came to bed hours into the wee morning. He was gone longer now during the day and one early evening, you found yourself cleaning the house alone with no company or pressing responsibilities to attend to, and you went into his office, rearranging his paperwork and dusting the bookshelves when you decided to take a peek into his desk, knowing he kept many personal writings there. Perhaps a poem or musing that could give an indication of what was happening inside his brain and why you were hitting a cold patch in the marriage.

After sifting through many documents, discarded calculations, and correspondence letters, you finally found his dearest belongings buried in the bottom drawer. You knew several of these, for they were cards - birthday, anniversary, well-wishers from the wedding - and some of your own (love poems, really) that you had exchanged with him and even simple notes of wanting to meet for dinner, a party, vacation at his Perro Caliente ranch, anything that merited invitation. You grew teary at a few, oddly nostalgic even though it was only a couple of years ago. But this project had somehow changed everything out of alignment.

A thin stack of folded papers wedged in-between a Valentine's Day card from you last year and inside an envelope that had a wax heart the color of dried blood stamped on it caught your attention and you carefully peeled the corners back to extract the papers, which looked to be three separate pieces creased into halves. You took the one on top and unfolded it to reveal a letter. It had no formal or informal greeting and you blinked, reading the words in your husband's scrawling cursive handwriting. The first few lines seemed more like a diary entry than anything else until you read further...

Well, I am wearier lately than anyone could possibly guess because I have grown adept at adopting a mask of confidence and optimism. But it is a foolish man's desire to remain unchanged and hopeful in his situations that require more than words to express... I know you understand the moody tides well, my love, and I often wonder if you are feeling the bluing void edging on again as you often do, verging on the whole of complete consumption. Though it would be more appropriate to call it black as death itself; blue has been wrongly shamed in this case, although you could drown in my eyes.

Safe to say, I very much miss your presence and touch, the way you find comfort in me as if we are beyond mortal man and woman. Naturally, there are other parts of me that yearn for you as well, but I'm sure you could pinpoint exactly what. It wouldn't be proper to state it here, although I will never be sending this to you Jean. I sincerely hope you never read this because if you do, that means the war is ongoing and I have not evolved past this spout of melancholy. It is hard to determine the future when oneself is so pegged on the past and present... I feel as though I am stuck between the slides. How do I let myself be with you and yet here all at once? You feel light years away from me, though it is only a mere thousand miles, isn't it? I feel closer to the dying stars than compared to my active obligations here on Earth.

"Don't be an idiot, Robert, and alienate the few people who most understand you because one day you might need them." I can hear you say it now and I'm afraid I did exactly that to you but for reasons more monumental than myself. I thank you for being understanding over the phone, but I must remain in this slide while you are busy in your own microcosm of the world and it is easier to miss you, but I should place a bet against myself to see exactly how long this separation lasts. If you'll have me, I look forward to loving you in two or three year's time. I hope by then I do not fall out of the concept of love entirely and with an expiration date instead because that would be a tremendous dissatisfaction if you found another bull who could never match my (nor your) intellect. He would never deserve such a naughty angel as yourself and I myself won't let you linger past my mind too much longer, I promise.

Forever yours (or not, though I hope the prior),

Robert

He had added a postscript, written in original Sanskrit from The Bhagavad Gita and you squinted, seeing familiarity. You jumped up and went to the bookshelves, seeking out his copy and thumbing through the pages, finding the scripture that matched his handwriting and you recognized the passage as he had shown and translated it to you once.

And now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

Why the fuck would he add that in as a PS in a pining love letter to his ex-girlfriend?

You put the book back and went to sit down on the floor beside his desk with the letter and other ones, which you dreaded opening in case they were more in the tone of lovesickness about Jean. You felt stunned and yet at the same time, unsurprised as if this was to be expected and maybe it was. It further proved that Robert hadn't completely emotionally filed Jean away as you'd thought and was planning on loving her again someday... Or he had just been really, really drunk when he composed this, but you highly doubted it.

Hands shaking, you set that letter aside gingerly as if it contained a deadly chemical and picked up a second folded piece of paper. When you opened it, you audibly gasped.

My Kitty,

I do hope you are well and pursuing a better life for yourself in the useful field of biology. Forgive me, I must be ridden with a fever, but wouldn't it be fortuitous if we perchance crossed paths in San Francisco one summer day? My flamboyant impossible imagination has flooded me again, so I'll indulge here: I'd see you out shopping and hopefully you would be with only female company (I take it your husband would be working, unless you have divorced) and we could strike up a conversation that led us to my Cadillac parked in the shadows of the shade, and I'd let you take refuge from the heat as my passenger and then I'd take your beautiful hand...

He had deeply scratched out the rest, but you could definitely make out a few lines of erotic poetry. In reaction, you bit your bottom lip so hard you nearly drew blood, and then reached for the last one, which was not a letter in the traditional sense, but more of a hastily scribbled note on an index card.

I need to see you soon. From one 'R' to another, you always have me at my truest regards.

You angrily swore aloud and started crumple this note, but paused. If you confronted him about it, this could blow up for both of you and you couldn't have that right now in the midst of life here for the project. No one was or could get divorced, that was not an option. No, you had to keep this secret and try to get back at him more stealthily. Robert clearly loved other women too much, that was it, and this was tangible of that. Enough was enough and it spurred on you to see the fellow you'd been avoiding since the party.

The next day, you went to Technical Area 1 and walked towards one of lab buildings, immediately noticed by the soldiers on guard and they came over, shaking their heads at you and your security clearance button, lower than permitted in such a site. You'd had to sweet talk your way just past the fencing to get to this point, but these particular hardened men didn't look swayable.

"I need to speak with my husband, it's urgent. Please," you begged dramatically, wringing your hands, and the men glanced at one another.

"He's preoccupied with his colleagues now, but we'll be sure to let him know about whatever it is, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

You pursed your lips, realizing they weren't going to let you just waltz into the building without an extremely good excuse, which you couldn't say.

"Fine. Good day, sirs." You walked far away from them and they went back to their business as you glanced around inconspicuously for an alternative entrance, going to another side. You found an unoccupied back door and hurried towards it, heart picking up pace.

"What are you doing?" a male voice called shrewdly from nearby behind.

"Shit," you muttered, whipping around to see a very suspicious Officer Nichols standing several feet away. Thankfully though, he was solitary.

"I'll have to report this, you know," he warned as you backed towards the shut door, forcing a big smile.

"Or what? You'll shoot me for finding my own husband?"

"Depends on the context. Dr. Oppenheimer is a very busy man and I'm sure he has much better to do with his limited time than to entertain his diligent token housewife."

You flushed angrily, feeling for the doorknob and of course it was locked.

"I swear to God I'm not doing anything else but speaking to him. I hardly know squat about quantum mechanics and the nature of his work," you lied, trying to appear absolutely innocent.

"Then what is so important you need to interrupt proceedings?" Officer Nichols asked sharply, coming closer.

"It's a highly urgent personal matter."

"I see." He paused, darting his eyes up and down the length of your body for a second before he spoke curiously.

"You haven't physically left The Hill since your arrival, is that correct?"

"Yes...?" you replied, unsure of where he was going with this.

Nichols stared at you for a moment through his glasses glinting in the midday sun and you looked back, locked in a strange thirty second unnerving silence of equilibrium. Finally he moved, stepping forward and nodding.

"I'll personally make sure that you never do."

"But no, I... I was planning on going shopping for supplies with some of the ladies this weekend in Santa Fe?"

He was silent and you were surprised when he took out a ringlet of keys, going to unlock the door.

"We all must make sacrifices, Mrs. Oppenheimer, and I'm sure your husband would agree. This is your reward for the loss of such a privilege, so go now before I change my mind and report you to General Groves."

You quickly darted inside without a backward glance, heart thudding in aftermath of the interaction. Did he really mean that? Would he get in trouble if someone found out? Or more importantly, would you get in a tight spot for sneaking around?

You strode through the maze of hallways past lab rooms, offices, and the like until you heard dull voices up ahead and saw Robert's back, face to the chalkboard, through a half-cracked door. The scientists turned to stare when they heard your heels come to a halt in the doorway, looking away from their paperwork and the blackboard. The awkward silence was deafening; a pin could drop at any moment and a man coughed, just to relieve the stagnant air. The lone female physicist of the group, Dr. Lilli Hornig, gave you a curious look with a quick polite smile as she scribbled something on a piece of paper. Robert froze with a cigarette in one hand and a piece of whittled chalk in the other, his blues boring into your face out of sheer shock.

"Y/N, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"No. I merely need to borrow that man right there for a moment of time. It's a personal matter," you announced crisply, pointing straight at Ernest Lawrence, whose expression morphed from surprise and to utter bemusement.

"Excuse me, then," he muttered and stood up, shuffling papers self consciously before making his way to you, moving down the hallway. You randomly led him to an empty storage room and opened the door, lightly pushing him inside.

"What are you doing?" he asked empathically as you faced him in the middle of the room, steadying yourself as you looked up at him, unaccustomed to being so close to a man considerably taller and bulkier than Robert's physicalie.

"Remember a couple weeks ago in May at last month's party?" you asked briskly and his brow furrowed in realization.

"Admittedly, not as much as I should. Oppie jokingly mentioned the next day afterwards about needing to restrict the amount liquor we're consuming at the house when you're hosting because we're not frat boys," he replied with an honest shrug.

"Do you recall that kiss you gave me out of the blue?"

His face flexed, eyebrows shooting up as his mouth twitched in guilty humor and you narrowed your eyes.

"Yes, perhaps a bit of it. In my defense though, I wasn't quite all there and there was talk going around, silly talk. I was dared into doing it, actually."

Now your own eyebrows mimicked his at this confession and you stepped closer, toe-to-toe with his shoes.

"Who dared you?"

"Promise to keep it to yourself?"

"Sure."

"Richard was the instigator and then the rest of the guys coaxed him on. Absolute ridiculousness we never would have done otherwise, I swear to you it's the high altitude of this place having an effect on our immature raucous behavior combined with alcohol."

"Feynman? The rascal, I could've guessed," you rolled your eyes disapprovingly and he sighed, shifting slightly on his feet.

"I really do apologize for the regrettable behavior, I sincerely promise it won't happen again," he told you seriously and you cocked your head slightly, giving him a once-over.

"Do you find me attractive?"

Lawrence immediately grew reserved and reluctant, making a grimace.

"Oh, I... I, oh no, I don't think it would be permissible to answer that."

"Go ahead. I dare you."

He swallowed nervously and came close with intimidation, making you stagger back all the way to the wall behind you, where he placed a hand up on it by your head, leaning in intimately and his warm breath tickled your cheeks.

"Yes, I suppose. But I'm happily married and certainly not looking for trouble or to wreck your own marriage. You must think I'm a very lousy friend," he admitted quietly.

"I think you underestimate me, Doctor," you whispered, nearly a purr, as you moved close and brushed his cheek with your fingers. He tried to speak, but you shushed him and gently removed his glasses, letting them dangle in your grip as you tilted into him, pressing your other hand firmly to his broad chest, squeezing the fabric of his vest.

Footsteps suddenly sounded from the hall outside, so you made it fast, giving Ernest a fast peck on the lips, just in time as then the door briskly yanked open and Robert poked his head in dubiously. You leaned back, still holding the glasses and Lawrence fumbled for them, accidentally interlocking fingers as your husband stared in confused disbelief.

"Y/N? What is the meaning of all this? We have work to do, why are you taking up his time?"

"Oppie, it's fine, we were just..." Ernest paused, readjusting rims of the glasses back on his face and he turned to you, a bit breathless.

"What were we talking about exactly?"

"All your great achievements, including the Nobel Prize, in contributing to the advancement of science, most notably your famous cyclotron and I was inquiring about the exact mechanics of how such a thing works. Something along the lines of high energy particles and acceleration...?"

"Right, because you were going to write to your father, who is curious about it," he caught on, proliferating this cock-and-bull conversation.

"And why do you need to interrupt our work about that? Aren't you supposed to elsewhere?" Robert asked, not hiding annoyance in plain sight. You could feel Ernest staring, gaze locked on you and your stomach butterflied, but you gave a brave face.

"You mean my womanly duties at home?" you snapped back.

"Yes, or however you may call it. Now, we need our physicist back if you'll pardon me." He beckoned Lawrence urgently and the man reluctantly pulled himself away from you, clearly ashamed and flustered. Once he was out of the room, Robert stepped inside and shut the door closed with snap. His face was taunt and irritated, fingers habitually fiddling for the ghost of a cigarette.

"What are you playing at here?" he demanded, already hurt without any explanation.

"Just a follow up to our last meeting," you said causally enough to anger him. He crossed to meet you in two strides, catching your wrist and lifting up your arm, interlacing his fingers very tightly with yours as he spoke lowly, intensively.

"What is the matter, am I not giving you enough? Do I not provide enough for you? You feel an urge to court my best man and colleague all of a sudden because you are bored of your humdrum domesticity? Is that what you love about Los Alamos, the fine selection of like-minded substitutes once you tire of me? Am I not enough?" His voice raised before he caught himself, releasing a shaky breath. He was genuinely upset and you felt rotten, but only for a second. It's not like he was clean in this either.

"Don't be ridiculous. I swear, you always assume the worst of me," you scoffed in response.

"Well, I certainly know a cheat when I see one," he said bitterly, twisting his fingers out of yours and dropping his arm.

"Yes, you would know indeed. But Jesus, Robert, he's only a friend, your friend I might add, and it was only a bit of fun, nothing serious. You said it yourself, it's good for him to loosen up. What else are parties for?"

"Right. Oh, yes, I'm sure that's exactly it," he replied sarcastically.

"He started it, you know, after Richard dared him to kiss me apparently at the party."

"Then I'll be speaking to both of them. But you need to stop it, quit acting so childish and inappropriate over this. You're smarter than this shtick and there is too much at stake to be partaking in silly juvenile romantic games."

"You do realize I'm at least fifteen years younger than you, right? You can't expect me to be, well, whatever it is called to be at your age. Old, is it?" you mocked and normally that would've sounded very rude in any other situation, but he knew your sharp side all too well to take it too seriously, especially when delivered with a teasing smile.

"You couldn't think of a worse slander than 'old'?" he scoffed, unimpressed, and you snorted, tapping the knot of his tie affectionately.

"The point is, I am indeed younger than you."

"So? I have no issue with that and you have proved yourself very capable of co-existence so far, I think you are quite mature for your age actually, at least until now... But I don't think biological age matters in love."

"I was just over eighteen when you began courting me and you used to flirt with your few female physics students that were no older," you reminded him and he diverted his gaze, tapping his foot anxiously and he distractedly flicked out a cigarette from his pocket pack, lighting it in a second and puffing in response. You stepped back from the plume of smoke, glancing towards the window and crossing your arms. He exhaled loudly and jerked his hand to point the cigarette at you and then spoke with ultimatum.

"I don't want to see you enter this laboratory with the intention of unnecessary interruption ever again. I will tell the officers outside to stop and restrain you if you do. Hell, I'll take these matters to the General if I have to, you hear me on that?"

"I certainly do as a matter of fact and I also know for a fact that you'd be wasting his time. Petty marriage squabbles isn't a high priority or forte for a high-ranking military man like him. But as for you, well, now you know what it feels like to be jeopardized over another human being," you countered.

"My ties are very different and I would never think to do it so publicly! I am discreet about such internal, highly private business," he exclaimed, getting frustrated with this discussion and this made you laugh humorlessly.

"Bullshit and you know that. I saw you a week before our wedding walking hand in hand with Jean down Shasta Road and what about that time afterwards when our friends saw you dancing with-"

He quickly talked louder, running over your words heatedly.

"No, no, no. You are just feeding into this ridiculousness and fabricating a relationship that isn't there!"

"Maybe so, but I thought it would be a good lesson, or test, for you and if this is any indicator, you've been bothered. I take heart in that you must love me so that it has unnerved you to see me with another man."

"There was never any doubt that I love you. Christ, if that's what this is all about..." He sighed, rubbing his creased forehead briefly before walking backwards to the door, opening it up and you could hear the dull chatter of voices from the other room.

"Well?" you asked when he didn't do anything, just standing with hands on his hips.

"I want you to do whatever it is that pleasures you, just as long as it doesn't happen to be luring my top physicist and close friend in a back room during the middle of a workday. Have some standard decency for God's sake," he spat, the words stinging, and you crystalized, uncrossing your arms and shaking your head at the hypocrisy.

"I never noticed it until we came here, but Ruth sure has your attention, doesn't she?"

"Pardon?" He blinked.

"You heard me."

"Ruthie has nothing to do with this and how dare you drag her name through your muddled mood today."

"Ruthie?" You rolled your eyes at clear affection underlying his tone.

"Listen to yourself Robert, you have feelings for her, you've always been close."

"She's a very dear friend, one of the few people I can truly confide in and share my emotions with, nothing more," he insisted.

"Am I part of that select number of confidants?"

"Of, of course. Has our entire marriage been for naught? I cannot believe your attitude over this, it's deplorable."

"It must be very nice to be you, Robert. No one here in Los Alamos casts open judgement upon you," you commented bitterly and he cringed, closing his eyes for a brief moment before staring back at you.

"Not yet, anyway," he answered with a tone of cryptic ominousness and you only frowned, shoving past him to exit the building.

A full twenty four hours passed without further incident until you haphazardly ran into Feynman on the street, just the man you were looking for.

"Richard?"

"Yeah?" He stopped and gave you a familiar cocky smile which dropped at the narrowed eyes and serious expression you were giving him.

"Oh, is this about the party? I didn't think he'd even do it, I apologize for our frivolousness that night. Clearly very unacceptable." He cleared his throat awkwardly and you leaned close, speaking in a low murmur.

"Do me a favor?"

"Uh, sure...?"

"I have an assignment for you: Find me a single man - preferably scientist - in this town, anyone remotely attractive will do, but no close friends or direct colleagues of Robert's, it has to be at least second or third tier from his inner circle and single - I'm not crossing into some other woman's territory - and arrange me a date with him in secret. Think of it as an experimental equation: One attempted devoted wife plus one all-but-labeled womanizer husband plus unsuspecting stag. It's time to give someone a taste of his own sweet and sour medicine."

"Oh, you feel like causing a scandal, do you? It won't take a mathematician to see what it'll will add up to." He chuckled in disbelief but then dropped his voice, casting wary glances around at passing residents, or civilians, as everyone who was non-military were officially called.

"Are you quite sure about this?"

"If I let my conscience speak, then no. But if I let every other fiber of my being, then yes. Will you do it?"

"I... I can't, no, this is beneath us," he protested, scratching the back of his neck in discomfort.

"It's one event at a casual party, it's quite another outside... Well, you know. Real tampering with people's lives has consequences and I'm not sure I'm the man for this job, I think if maybe, it-"

"I'll pay you," you interrupted quickly and he quirked an eyebrow and leaned closer.

"How much?" he whispered curiously.

"Twenty?"

"Make it 100 and you've got yourself a deal. I'll do it and you can pay me later at your convenience. Now excuse me, but I have some business elsewhere."

He hurried off and there was no further word until one early morning you came into the kitchen as Robert was dressing his toast and brewing coffee, and you were surprised to see a bouquet of long stemmed red roses on the table. Naturally, you looked to him as his habit of flower gifting was infamous, but he was staring just as confounded as you were. He seemed positively rattled, in fact.

"Did you...?" he asked and you echoed that same question.

"Did you?"

"No, I haven't been flower picking as of late," he replied dryly with a taut closed smile and then it dawned on you. Could it be from the mystery date you'd sent Feynman to set up?

"I'll put them in the living room, shall I? They'll get the strong afternoon light that will illuminate their velvety rouge petals," you expressed and he nodded emotionlessly, turning back to the toast and grabbing the pot of coffee.

Once you were alone in the lounge, you carefully inspected the flowers; they were beautiful and fairly fresh, only one or two were curling at the tips from the heat and as you held it up to admire, there was a small square piece of paper taped on the bottom of the skinny glass vase: It was a thin note, reading of a scrambled code of some sorts. You smirked, knowing it had to be Feynman who did this; he was always writing letters in code to his ailing sweetheart stuck in Albuquerque.

"Y/N, have you seen my badge? It's gone missing!" Robert called anxiously from the kitchen and you quickly tore the note off the bottom and tucked it into your pajamas.

"You probably left it on the dresser," you called back to him absentmindedly.

Once he left for the day, you sat down and worked to crack the code, which wasn't terribly hard considering it was predictable; boiling down to an address, date and time. You'd hoped for a name of the mystery gentleman, but didn't seem to get one.

That evening, you dressed in one of your finest silk dresses, red in color as the roses, and made your way to the bachelor's dormitory on the other side of town. You technically weren't allowed to be transversing around here, especially at this hour, and you cringed at a couple of catcalling whistles from young drunken men loitering outside. You ignored them, hurrying up the stairs to the mystery man's dorm and knocked once. The door opened, almost cautiously, and a decent looking young man stood there, his short brunette hair combed back and he wore a well pressed suit but with a blue tie slightly out of alignment.

"Good evening, Ma'am," he greeted in a pleasant voice and you automatically blushed, staring into his eyes which were a very watered-down literation of Robert's own blues; if his were the ocean, this man's were a lake on a grey skied afternoon and it made you feel a tad sad about doing this. Of course no man's eyes could ever quite compare.

"Hello...?" you trailed off, needing a name to this blind date of yours.

"My name is Anthony, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

"Pleasure to meet you and please, that makes me sound old and tethered. Just call me Y/N."

He nodded, stepping aside and you went inside, closing the door behind you as you surveyed the somewhat neat living quarters consisting of basic furniture and scattered paperwork and magazines.

"I apologize if this is rather awkward, but I take it Richard gave you the details?"

"More or less," Anthony answered and the way he was ogling at you wasn't so much like piece of meat, but out of respect and disbelief that he had actually had a date with the wife of the top dog scientific director of Los Alamos.

"Would you care for a drink? I just have, uh, scotch if that's alright. Probably different from what you're used to," he murmured the last part and you assured him quickly it was alright.

"Yes I would, thank you."

He handed a half filled glass to you gently and you noticed his hands were trembling slightly.

"You don't have to be nervous, I'm really not all that remarkable. I may have my husband's name, but I'm certainly not him, you know. We all bask in the long reaching shade of Oppie, don't we?"

"Right, of course," he chuckled, offering you a seat on the sofa and taking a sip of his own, regarding you impressively.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?" you asked tenderly and he shrugged, still rather timid.

"I was dating a girl back in college but we broke off right before I signed onto the project."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty four," he answered.

"Good, not younger than me; I suppose we are perhaps compatible then in that respect. You don't need to hear my life story, but I was a year in studying medicine at Stanford until this and now I suppose I'm just another housewife at the moment." You sighed, taking a small sip and nodding at him pleasantly.

"So what do you do here, generally? I take it you aren't one of the boys in Oppie's so-called cult?"

"No, I'm an engineer actually. I work in one of the labs, hands on, none of that theoretical bunch."

You nodded approvingly and there was a lapse of silence until he gestured with his glass, sloshing the liquid slightly.

"So I take it you're quite unhappy with... with Dr. Oppenheimer if you wanted to meet with another man?" he asked cautiously, disguising excitement.

"No questions, if you don't mind. I'm not here to talk about him," you replied seriously and he nodded fervently, setting the drink down on the side table.

"Yes, right. I apologize. I guess that doesn't leave much formalities then." He paused, swiping his tongue across his lips.

"I'd like to kiss you if that's not rushing too much," he proposed politely, but with a tone of urgency.

"Go right ahead." You braced as he leaned in, inches from your lips and you shared air for a second before he plunged forward, groping your mouth fast and lightly. But it felt all so wrong. You lightly pulled back, his hands not even holding your face like Robert always did so there wasn't much real intimacy, and glanced to the floor self consciously.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," you murmured guiltily. Maybe it wasn't even your conscience; maybe he just wasn't the right guy.

"But I thought you wanted it...?" Anthony's brows furrowed in hurt confusion and offense, so you quickly backpedaled.

"Not here, we can't do anything here. How about... Do you want to come over to my home?" you blurted out abruptly and he swallowed.

"But is-isn't your husband home?"

"That's the point."

Gathering courage for the both of you, Anthony then stood and took your hand to walk you to the door, leading you out down to the street level and the two of you walked all the way to Bathtub Row together. You could tell he was in awe of these homes that were larger and much better constructed.

"So this is how the other side lives." Anthony gave a low whistle and you laughed, bumping his side gently.

"Don't worry. We use the same water, electricity, and plumbing as you do, it's just a little more glamorous and I promise you anyone living in Los Alamos to work on the project is not substandard or lower class, even if the military may be rather degrading at times. It's all just a socially constructed hierarchy."

He squeezed your waist affectionately and you led him to the house, telling him to wait by the shrubs as you walked around to peer into the windows to see if Robert was still up, which you'd be surprised if he wasn't, and indeed he was: reclining in an armchair by the fireplace, reading and puffing on his pipe.

You signaled to Anthony to come closer and he crossed the yard to stand by the side of the house, appearing wary. He mouthed 'do you see him?' and you nodded, turning your back to the window and beckoned to him to move close. He carefully did so until he was a few inches from your face and you swallowed at the intimacy, the daring nerve to kiss a man right in front of the windowpanes where your husband sat in the living room.

"Kiss me, but passionately this time, no holding back. Just pretend it's only the two of us, okay?" you whispered and he breathed in, parting lips.

"Is this a dream?" he whispered and you giggled lightly, straddling his body and cupping the back of his neck, hairs bristling your fingers.

"Only if you want it to be, but no telling anyone when you wake up, understand?"

"No one would believe me... I feel as though I'm about to commit a great sin against the Oppenheimer unity, I can't believe I'm going to do this," he admitted with a dark chuckle.

"I can," you breathed and before you knew it, his lips connected to yours and the kiss was actually amazingly passionate indeed for two people who just personally met tonight. You breathed in his musky scent and intertwined tongues, smooshing noses and you felt him push you up against the window, arms embracing you whole and you secretly hoped it would eventually catch Robert's attention. Your intention was just one full kiss, but now this man had you, he seemed reluctant to let go as you began to lean back from his mouth, head lightly conking against the window. Anthony groped your breasts hungrily and you felt his hard-on pressing against your thigh as your bodies rubbed, the kissing becoming sloppier and for a moment, you completely forgot what you'd done this for. A faint yell came from somewhere and Anthony grew more attached, tightening his grasp on your frame, kissing harder and you started to feel a slight wetness in your panties.

"Stop! Get off of her! Please, that's my wife!" Robert's voice called in audible distress and you realized this must look a lot worse than it was, and you had to admit this man was getting a bit rougher as his more primal desire came to fruition and you grunted, turning your head and trying to wriggle out from underneath his locking embrace.

"That's enough, enough," you murmured anxiously, but he wasn't stopping.

"You said this could be my dream, can't ya let me finish first?" Anthony growled in your ear, but you were done, having successfully alarmed your husband. This wasn't meant to go further and quite frankly, you were unnerved how quickly it had escalated. He wasn't quite the shy gentleman scientist anymore once he was aroused, but you supposed these types of adventures did bring out the animalistic behavior in most after all.

Simple souls, Robert had said once of human beings.

Unfortunately, he was now witness to such a 'simple man' about to take you right on the windows of his stone and log cabin style house.

"STOP THAT NOW!" Robert yelled off to the right and you felt Anthony being forcefully tugged away, his arm flailing out and trying to grasp, catching your hair and you winced as he accidentally yanked painfully.

You were suddenly released and you gasped, sidestepping and watching in shock as Robert tried to jump on the man, his belt removed from his waist and gripped tightly in his hands as he wrestled it aggressively around Anthony's neck, constricting with enough force to make him gag and choke.

"Robert, no!" you shouted, rushing forward and attempting to pull him away, but it was as if he were deaf to the wind.

"I demand you to LEAVE my property at once and to NEVER see my wife, or this won't end on civilized terms," he threatened loudly and you'd never seen such a fire in his piercing eyes before. It intrigued and frightened you, considering he was not a brute in any sense. Anthony pleaded through his choking, whimpering pathetically, until Robert finally backed off, snapping the belt and huffing.

The other man stumbled up to his feet and held up his hands in surrender as Robert squinted in the dark, trying to fully identify him.

"I'm terribly apologetic Dr. Oppenheimer, sir, I won't bother you or the Mrs. anymore, I'll be right on my way!"

Anthony ran like a bat out of hell from the property and once it was silent, Robert turned to you with heavy breaths, the belt hanging limply at his side. You took one look and then rushed inside in the house, kicking off your heels in the hallway and dashing into the bedroom, slamming the door, heart pounding a sprint.

Moments later, you heard his clodding footsteps and anxious voice calling out desperately, the door bursting open.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?" he gasped as you shrunk away from him, still feeling Anthony's hands all over you and the whole guilt imploded, resulting in a sudden overflow of tears.

"Fuck, Robert! It's all my fault, I told Richard Feynman to set us up and I told Anthony to come here as a show to make you jealous and it advanced, I promise he meant no harm, we just wanted-"

"You did this on purpose?" he interrupted, betrayal lighting his features and you wiped messily at the tears streaming down your own.

"Yes! I kissed him on purpose! I wanted to spite you, I'm sorry but I cannot handle this anymore! I wanted to hurt and infuriate you like you do to me with your blatant love of other women! I bribed Richard $100 for a date with a single scientist, I didn't know what I'd get, but I'm glad you saw us together, it is only fair when I have to read love letters to past girlfriends... or are they just current 'friends'?!"

His mouth gaped and the frown lines appeared, creasing his forehead in prudent anger.

"The audacity... I suppose I indeed underestimated you, my sweet Aphrodite," he said lowly, voice a low rumble and despite everything you actually felt a shiver of arousal in your core.

In two strides, he met you at the foot of the bed, grabbing your head in a vice and in a bizarrely dominant twist, pinned you down to the bed, trapping you underneath him and yet you saw the uncertainty flicker. He was pretending to be so dominant, but couldn't take the reins fully.

Oh, Oppie.

"Roll over," you ordered sharply and he did, collapsing onto his back as you unbuttoned his pants and yanked them down hastily, staring at his cock straining against his boxers. You placed your palm on it, teasing him and he moaned softly, shaking his head at the deviousness on your face.

"No, please. Please, let me out, please don't do this, please..."

Begging. He was actually begging. After he just had attacked a man outside and was reeling from your confession, he was here at an embarrassingly burgeoning erection.

"I'm so close that I don't need you inside me, but I think you need a bit more help, is that right?" you whispered condescendingly and he gulped, eyes wide dilated marbles.

"I'm sorry about all of it, I never meant t-to-" he sputtered off as you clapped a hand to his mouth and you straddled his body, legs quivering with anticipation.

His penis grew harder and a clear wet stain bled through the fabric, causing him to squirm underneath you and you smiled, bumping up and grinding against clothed erection. You yelped at the sudden rush of internal pleasure and his hands gripped your dress at the hips, gasping along with your heaves and whines, but he himself was yet to peak. He seemed mortified as you then sat back and placed firm hands down on his crotch, holding his bulge tightly. He groaned, mortified as you wouldn't let him go, and after stretching him out to his limits for too long, a single squeeze brought him to a full climax, absolutely soaking his boxers and he threw his head back on the pillow, reveling in the orgasm.

Panting, you climbed off him and he weakly sat up, holding out a hand with the other on his wet crotch in sheer humiliation. You left the bed, gathering your appearance and catching breath.

"No, don't... Don't leave," he requested desperately from his spot on the bed and you shook your head, tousling hair as you glanced over at him.

"Clean up your own mess, darling," you told him firmly, a metaphor as much as a literal one.

He sighed, swinging legs off the bed and hobbling off to the bathroom as you began to undress, slipping out of the dress and into a bedtime robe.

He came back in, clean but utterly naked, and his dick was still dripping a smidge at the tip.

"You very much ruined a good pair of my underwear," he complained and you merely shrugged, patting the bed as you crawled in and he joined, scooting under the sheets and pulling you close, resting his forehead at yours, speaking in a mutter.

"You just had to stoop low with that male 'catch' of yours, didn't you?"

"That's not very nice, darling. Anthony seemed like a nice man and he's an engineer, I'll have you know."

"He isn't a third of the man I am."

"No one is you, Robert. That's why I went to another man in the first place."

"I truly wanted to suffocate the life out of him, I would have maimed him quite seriously had I lacked control. I haven't thought of doing such a terrible action since my Cambridge episodes, my terrible fits of jealousy... I suppose I expressed protection over you," he mused grimly.

"It's the thought that counts," you commented darkly.

"I can be so impulsive and erratic... You and everyone knows quite well how I was going to poison my tutor; I had injected potassium cyanide in the body of that innocent apple and left it on his desk..."

You remembered it had been Jean who had offhandedly first mentioned this story to you and she had assured you it was only because he was going through a very difficult phase in his life and actually all he needed to feel fulfilled was to just "get laid" as she aptly put it. Funnily enough, 'getting laid' was the least of Robert's problems now.

He took your hand at the moment and grasped too hard, squeezing your fingers, leaning towards you anxiously and speaking urgently.

"Listen, and I mean this very much: Don't ever see another man, I don't think I can do this again without gravely spraining my heart."

"And your enormous ego," you added the obvious with a small smile and he returned it, also giving you a light kiss on the cheek and cuddling in close.

"I love you," he offered gently and you shot him a glance, unable to hide the blushing smirk.

"Touché."

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weirdworldofwinnie · 1 year ago

Text

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Two: Settling is Subjective

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: It's only the second day in Los Alamos and while your husband is trying on being part of the uniformed men, you track down the suspicious phone call and unfortunately end up with a tidbit of information that is upsetting.

Word Count: ~4,608

Warnings: Light smut (fingering), age gap, period stereotypical gender roles, mentions of infidelity, marital angst, and drunkenness

See previous for all disclaimers, this is NOT based completely on real life historical accuracy and is essentially fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer.

Part One here

Tag List: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple

Thanks to everyone who has liked so far. If you would like to be part of the tag list, drop a comment and I'll add you!

When you awoke from a deep slumber the next morning, the bright sunlight filtering in from the open curtained window was beaming you right in the eyeballs, forcing you to squint and shield your face before sitting up and seeing the empty wrinkled sheet space beside you indicating that Robert had already left early. You sighed, dragging yourself out of bed with a groan from vaginal soreness of last night's escapade and went across the hall to use the bathroom and clean up some, dressing and applying the usual makeup and brushing out your tangled hair, as well as clean out the bathtub. After a light breakfast in the kitchen consisting of two slices of buttered toast with jam and a glass of milk, you went back to the bedroom to pluck up the leftover discarded clothes and shoes still littering the floor. You put Robert's belt into the closet with his shoes and your heels, and took the rest to the bathroom along with the sheets you tugged off the bed, bringing it all into the bathroom sink to thoroughly scrub at the stains in the linens and the memory of last night was making you smile despite your misgivings.

You went out to clip the washed fabrics up onto the clothesline you had established yesterday in the yard and as your fingers fumbled with the wooden clothespins, the warm airy breeze was making the soaking wet fabrics spray a light mist into your face when you suddenly heard a sharp woman's voice behind you, startling your concentration.

"Well, don't you have the easiest job in the whole world."

You whipped around to see one of the scientist's wifes, her hair up in a bun and arms crossed defensively against her chest as she surveyed your laundry.

"May I help you?" you asked her, not pleased that she had just decided to walk right onto the property without permission or invitation. Was that going to be the norm around here, a complete lack of respect for privacy?

The woman shifted, narrowing her eyes briefly before glancing away and back to you.

"You know what I'm talking about," she said knowingly with unnecessary snippiness to her voice and you felt a frown creasing your forehead.

"No, I'm afraid I actually do not. Why are you here?"

She smiled, but it was really a grimace more than anything else with the way she bared her teeth.

"You're married to Dr. Robert fucking Oppenheimer," she stated and you blinked, stunned at her vulgarity.

"Excuse me? I am, indeed, but what is that to you?"

But she had already turned away and began walking out of the yard down the pathway and you shook your head, utterly perplexed and borderline insulted, but you figured it wasn't worth getting into a confrontational fight over when you weren't even sure what exactly her issue was. You hoped that this wasn't a sign that the welcoming nature of the other wives could somehow be diminishing, and you were at risk of bizarrely becoming an outsider among everybody else here in this pop-up town just because of Robert's higher status. You had expected to be respected for being Dr. Oppenheimer's wife at the very least, but you did not want to be seen as pompously prestigious to foster any sort of jealousy or spite, and more to find common ground in general with these other women for they were in the same proverbial ship here. If that lady had a bone to pick because of your husband, then that was her problem, not yours.

The next time you saw Robert was when you went on a self-guided tour of the town, taking in the army's quarters, main mess hall, many outbuildings, offices, and schoolhouse still in construction. You were walking towards the army offices when he came bursting out a door, leading the way of a small pack of men, including friend Isidor Rabi and General Groves himself. You bit back a smile at how dwarfed in size Robert appeared when compared to those taller, bulkier men and your eyebrows bolted upward in surprise upon seeing his own tightly conforming uniform. The other men started to file inside another building and you approached him with a quirked eyebrow.

"You enlisted?" you asked and he gave a vigorous nod.

"They think it would be prudent for all of us civilian men to join the Army efforts and I could be of such importance," he replied sincerely, but you saw through his posturing.

"Do you want to or is the General making you?"

He didn't answer and you guessed the latter as he glanced away and then settled back to you.

"Come here for a minute," he muttered, pulling you aside and whisking you in a quick movement inside the building and into a small empty office, and you started to speak in confusion, but he clapped a hand over your mouth, kicking the door closed behind him. You stared as he slowly lowered his palm and you whispered, feeling as though something were wrong.

"What is this about?"

Wordlessly, he traced a finger along the waistband of your skirt and raised his eyebrows flirtatiously, creasing his forehead with fine age lines.

"What do you think?" he murmured and you knew he meant his attire.

"I kind of find it rather handsome, I suppose," you answered with a smirk and smoothing down his front breast of the stiff dark mossy green fabric, catching your fingertips on the brass buttons and playfully tugging at the buckle around his waist. His eyes widened with a gleam and he yanked your skirt out towards him to thrust an arm down into your panties, anxious to feel you. Gasping, you clutched at his shoulders and went in to kiss him as he pressed a single finger to your slit, squirming past the moist fleshy opening and you gave a light moan of delight as he felt your clit.

"How are you so wet already?" he mumbled into your ear and you gave a breathy laugh, realizing how aroused you were indeed getting.

"Maybe there's just something about a uniformed man," you whispered back to his ear and he gave a fast kiss on your lips while probing in further, expanding his reach with two fingers and letting your fluids naturally lubricate his easy efforts in.

"Sir, we've got a head count of eighteen, nineteen once Dr. Oppenheimer joins us..."

You both froze at a man's voice just outside the door and your heart began to pick up pace in fear, as though what you and Robert were doing was illegally incriminating, even though he was only your husband after all, but if someone discovered you hiding out with the scientific director of the Manhattan Project in the process of giving you a handjob in the middle of a workday, that wouldn't be a good look of professionalism at all, especially if (God forbid) Groves found out about it. But Robert wasn't spooked too easily and he hit that sweet spot inside you, causing you to whimper like a puppy from the breaching orgasm, clinging onto his uniform as though your life depended on it.

"Shh..." He placed his free hand to your lips and your back arched with pleasure, relishing the feel of his fingers up in your walls.

"Rob-"

He cut you off, forcing the back of your head forward to press your face against his shoulder and you lightly bit into the uniform, preventing an embarrassing audible noise from alerting the entire building.

"That didn't take very long," he observed in a whisper as you wound down from the peaking high of the quick orgasm and gasped when close footsteps commenced right outside. Robert pulled his hand slick with your cum out and wiped it clean with a handkerchief from his pocket before quickly detaching from you and swinging the door wide open.

"Wait!" you hissed, snatching his coattails as he began to move out the door and he stopped, spinning around with intensity.

"Duty calls," he told you sternly and you shook your head, wetting your lips.

"No, I know that, but I wanted to ask about that phone call - if the phone call, if you-"

"It was taken care of," he replied crisply, not quite looking at you (giving a flash of skepticism and doubt) but then he put on a yearning glance that flickered darkly downward and that distracted you, triggering another ripple of arousal shooting through your core, proving the fact that your libido was in full force today. You hated to see Robert leave, but men were approaching and he exited to join them. You briskly hitched up your panties and skirt before taking a single calming breath and walking out as though nothing provocative had just occurred. The men were filing out into the road and getting in various militarized vehicles while Groves was barking to Robert about scouting out more acreage. You pretended to ignore them, making distance, but unfortunately there was one person who lagging behind long enough to take notice of you hurrying out the side door and that was Officer Nichols. You nodded politely and told him "good afternoon" but it was perhaps too falsely cheery because his eyes behind his round glasses narrowed and the smile he gave you was stretched in suspicion. You moved fast down the sidewalk, not daring a glance backwards, and made your way back home.

The rest of day passed slowly and you occupied yourself with finishing up organizing the house and shelving Robert's many books while trying not to feel the stifling housewife effect, but more so than that was you couldn't shake a nagging persistence related to that phone call and so, around five o'clock, you marched into the main office where the secretary gave you a look of recognition as she put down the phone.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Oppenheimer. Are you looking for your husband?"

Her tone made you almost want to cringe as you realized the fact that she was older than you, making you feel as though you probably looked less like a marital partner and more like a mistress.

"Actually, I was wondering about a phone call received sometime yesterday for said husband?"

The secretary pursed her lips and that micro action told you she knew about it.

"I'm afraid all phone calls going in and out are classified information that you do not have access to unless you are given override."

"Well, is there someone else I can talk to about this?"

"It would be unwise to involve anyone else besides me," she replied shortly and you felt a bit annoyed that she was taking this job of being "gatekeeper to Los Alamos" seriously, even though it was indeed her job. You bent over the desk, getting closer and clasping your hands calmly together, speaking with a pleading smile as you glanced to her own wedding ring.

"Please, as one wife to another, how about just a little disclosure between you and me? You must have overheard or took the call...?"

She seemed nervous and blinked a few times before shaking her head and you leaned back, disappointed.

"So how are you settling in? Is there anything I can get for you?" she suddenly asked in a change of tone and you sighed, realizing this was getting nowhere.

"I'm doing fine, thank you. I should start thinking about cooking up a meal for dinner in fact."

"Need a recipe? I swear by this brown sugar meatloaf," she said, raising her eyebrows knowingly as if giving you vital information.

"Oh, alright. Sure," you replied in surprise, even though you already knew how to cook meatloaf and did it many times before, but she grabbed a notepad, scribbling down something with a black ballpoint pen on the top slip of paper before handing it to you folded up in a creased square.

"Enjoy," she said dryly and you stepped away, feeling a bit confused, but you accepted it and tucked it into your purse, giving her a forced smile and walking away, wondering if you might have just been handed something that wasn't pertaining to meatloaf.

When you were in the secluded space of the bedroom at home, you took it out and unfolded it, the lined paper crinkling in your grasp as you read a hastily jotted message.

"Jean, I just can't get up and leave right now, you know that. Stay where you are and don't come looking, don't converse and write to anyone about me. I promise this will be only temporary. What? Yes, of course I still love and miss you, I do."

You crunched the note in your hands and without thinking much further about it, promptly burned it up in the bathroom trashcan with the flame from your cigarette lighter, letting it become mere ashes sprinkling the bottom. Kudos to that secretary with attentive ears and a keen memory, but the last you needed was someone finding out about this. God, was anyone else aware of what he said? Teary, you turned away, catching your upset reflection in the mirror and even the light layer of makeup couldn't cover your exhaustion and frustration, making you appear older than you felt.

"It was taken care of."

He had presumably called her this morning to tell her he missed her already. And he still loved her?

You didn't have a problem with him associating with Jean in a platonic sense if you happened to be back in Berkeley, but of course that was not what this was about. Robert was unfortunately turning out to be one of those men who just couldn't settle down and you supposed you shouldn't be too surprised given his pattern of womanizing, but it was much worse and serious in this location where stakes were very high, so like an unwanted wild rose growing out of proportion, this had to be nipped in the bud.

A couple hours later and after you had eaten dinner alone - a sloppy meal of macaroni and cheese with a full glass of red wine was the best you could muster - and you heard Robert walking to front door step outside, you went to aggressively pull it open, about to be utterly interrogative until you saw his oddly hurt expression, also taking in that his military uniform was gone and replaced with his usual suit and tie attire with a K-6 security clearance button pinned smartly to his gray blazer.

"What happened to your uniform?" you asked before anything else, skirting around the real problems.

"I returned it; I failed the physical requirements, and Isidor convinced me that I looked absurd and am better suited as myself," he replied, impatiently dismissive, and you shrugged nonchalantly.

"He's probably right. You are worth your weight as a scientist, not as a soldier."

"You stopped by the office today," he said, abruptly changing topic with an accusatory tone that you yourself had planned on using, and you tightened, clenching the doorknob stressfully.

"Who told you?"

"Nevermind that. Tell me, why did you speak to my secretary?"

You did not like feeling put on the spot, so you deflected and counter questioned him instead.

"You lied to me earlier about claiming it was taken care of, didn't you? I was right last night about who the phone call was from, wasn't I? You contacted her today when you know how risky it is for outside contacts, not to mention that we just arrived here yesterday. Are you out of your right mind?"

He gave a warning look with resignation and stepped into the house, gently pushing you off to the side. You followed him to the kitchen and took up the wine glass, swigging down the rest as he grimaced, glancing off to the dwindling bottle of uncorked wine next to the cheese encrusted mess you had left on the counter in the form of a dirty pot with the plate haphazardly resting in the sink.

"I see you made dinner for one," he observed and you poured out the rest of the wine into your glass, hovering by the table and taking numerous sips.

"Imagine that, I sincerely hope you weren't starving," you told him sarcastically and he scowled, reflexively reaching for a cigarette.

"I don't want to find out secondhand information from others, so I'd like to hear what happened today in the office and why you are acting like this," he said around the cigarette in his mouth and you snorted, almost amused.

"Oh, what does it matter?"

"It's my personal business, so yes, it matters very much."

Maybe it was the alcohol affecting your already soured mood, but you found yourself choking up on tears and angrily whisper-shouting at him, your voice all high pitched and shaky.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! She's not here, she won't ever be, and we are in a state of high security! You have to stop thinking about her, calling her, lying to me and-"

"This isn't as dramatic as you are making it," he interrupted placidly, but this only spurred you on.

"Oh, really?! I'm not the one violating security and calling a Communist ex-girlfriend from another state while on a classified government sanctioned project! You are the sole issue here, Robert!"

"Stop. Let's not fight," he ordered, grasping your arm and leading you away from the counter and the empty wine bottle.

"I have no desire to be unfaithful to you. Jean contacted me first and I just had to reassure her I was alright because she was worried; she has seen men likely from the FBI tailing her outside her apartment and she is justifiably concerned for her own safety and for mine being so far away."

You pushed aside the tiny piece of worry you had for her and bit back at him coldly.

"I see. Well, why don't you call up Katherine while you're at it and tell her you haven't vanished off the face of the earth because these women cannot bear a day not knowing your exact existence?"

Robert glanced down at his shoes, speaking bitterly.

"She would not want to hear from me."

"Because you wouldn't marry her unless she had a child of yours. Would you have a baby with Jean if given the chance?!"

He blinked, taking in your appearance like he'd just seen you for the first time.

"What is the matter with you tonight? This is not about procreation with anyone and why have you become so devoutly anti any political and ideological affiliations?"

You swallowed and licked your lips clean of the wine stains and refused to answer, but he knew you well enough to get an understanding of your silent expressions.

"This is not a matter of my ties to controversy, but about my feminine associations only, isn't it?"

"I, I just don't want any trouble," you admitted as you waved your hand still holding the glass and it slipped right out of your fingers, nosily crashing to the floor.

"Oh, fuck," you swore, stepping away from the splattered glass and sucking a breath in as Robert stood still, staring from the floor up to your flushed face.

"Perhaps I should lock up the liquor cabinet tonight if this is any indicator. How many drinks did you get into?" he asked scoldingly.

"Stop treating me as if I'm a fucking child," you spat out, taking one step back from him.

"I never said you were, but I'm well aware that Kitty has a similar problem when she gets upset; it accelerates already induced negative emotions and even worse so here due to the altitude, I believe it-"

"Don't you dare equate me to HER!" you practically shrieked, backing away into a chair as he came forth, concern and fright sparking in his eyes. You shook your head furiously, shaking up your perception of the slightly blurry kitchen and gulping air before your next verbal assault at him.

"God, you're such a mess, Robert! You just can't stop reminding me and how many more women are going to come out of the woodwork while we're living here?"

"I have cut my ties to all former affairs, you know that. I told you the day we became engaged, but Jean and Kitty are taking longer to rinse out of my personal contacts."

"Speaking of rinsing, I washed the sheets this morning and I need to bring them in, so excuse me," you declared, really needing fresh air more than anything at the moment, so you stumbled out the back door to retrieve such items from the clothesline. You wiped your eyes and took gulping breaths to calm your racing heartbeat and to get ahold of your emotions that were misfiring all at once... Maybe you had drank too much wine, you sure felt terribly psychologically unsteady. You fell down to your knees on the grass and put your aching head to the bundle of dry sheets and few clothes from yesterday, willing this to pass and wishing you had never gone to the office today and left everything as it was. Ignorance wasn't bliss, but at least it made information ignorable unlike knowledge which burned persistently in your brain until you threw water on the emotions stemming from the paining scorch. Maybe you were overreacting and too young, but Christ, being compared to his other women made it feel worse. There was no way to have a symbiotic relationship with him when he had them parasitically clinging on; you couldn't compete with a woman like Katherine, who was closer to Robert's age and unapproachable, while Jean was a known Communist who knew some of your friends. It all felt too... personal.

When you finally stood up once your head stopped pounding enough to come back inside, stepping around the broken glass and spilled bit of wine that you'd end up cleaning later, Robert had moved to the lounge and was smoking a cigarette while lying back on the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He gazed at you carefully and cautiously as you stopped in front of him and spoke businesslike, struggling to retain what was left of your composure.

"A woman came around this morning unannounced and you know what-what she told me?"

He stared through the haze of smoke, wearing soft curiosity as you took another deep breath.

"She... She told me I should consider myself to have the easiest job in the world and that is to be married to - and I quote - 'Dr. Robert fucking Oppenheimer'."

He had little reaction other than raised eyebrows in amusement and he lowered the cigarette, gesturing at you with it.

"Do you feel that way? Am I a good occupation for you?"

You scoffed, striding out of the room with the bundle of sheets and clothing in your arms.

"Not a chance after today," you called back over your shoulder, making your way to the bedroom. You tucked the sheets in, making the bed when the sound of an audible sigh from the doorway made you turn reluctantly.

"We can't go on like this, it hasn't even been a week and already we're fracturing our unity and trust. You aren't taking to Los Alamos very well," he said gently and you deflated in the truth, sinking down on the bed as he walked over to accompany you.

"No more phone calls," you instructed him firmly when he settled next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"No suspicious calls, I promise. You are beginning to sound a lot like Leslie Groves."

You sat up straighter and attempted to imitate the General's gruff voice, glaring at him forebodingly.

"Robert, you'll do what I tell you because this fucking important! Otherwise, I'll have to rip that phone right off its cord and jam it up your ass to stop you from jeopardizing national security."

"Yes, ma'am." He was taken aback by this threatening proclamation, yet smiled in good humor, but you then grew more somber and back to your normal voice.

"I'm just tired of feeling as though I am in a competition even being married. I tell you, if I hear any further word about certain past lovers, I will be confiscating every single cigarette you have."

His eyes widened and another smile tugged at his lips as he took your hand, placing it in his lap and rubbing circles into your faint blue veins.

"I would surely not last a full day if you did that to me."

"Then don't make me."

He leaned in and kissed you swiftly, his tongue brushing past your lips and finding its well worn way in, intertwining with your own still doused in the taste of wine. You pulled away and laid back on the bed with him falling down beside you a second later, body relaxing. The palm of his right hand found your stomach that he gently patted affectionately.

"Forgive the off topic inquiry, but do you think you'll end up bearing fruit one of our years here?" He spoke in equal parts trepidation and hushed anticipation.

"I don't know," you murmured, unhappy he was bringing this up.

"I can arrange for a medical assessment, we have some very best doctors on staff..."

You groaned softly, shutting your eyes to the ceiling.

"No... I don't want to officially find out that I could be rarely infertile in any capacity."

"We don't know that for certain; naturally you are biologically and physically healthy, but out of an abundance of caution, I was only thinking-"

"You are always thinking, too much to a fault in fact. If we are meant to have a baby, then it will happen in its own time. However, I am not racing for it to come into creation here of all places, though, and if that means we have to pump the brakes on our active intercourse, then so be it."

He smiled in some relief, leaning over and kissing you again, his fingers weaving into your hair affectionately.

"I'm in no hurry for such a distraction either and I trust your instincts over my own brain on this one," Robert whispered as he caressed your cheek and leaned back lazily to gaze fondly.

"As you should," you teased with a mutter, but you echoed his unspoken thoughts that were not in favor of becoming a father soon when there was too much on his mind with the work here. Worse, you couldn't help but privately wonder if he would even be adept at being a father... When you tested positive for pregnancy for the first time and disclosed the news to him, you remembered how his face flickered from surprise to guilt to hesitant joy. You had kept it only between him and the doctor, which turned out to be good because you ended losing the fetus anyway in less than three months. Robert hadn't been exactly upset, but you had because it catapulted into existential questions, but he and the physician had assured you were fine and there was still plenty of time. For now though, you decided, it was too early to try out the theory of parenthood.

The bed springs lightly creaked as Robert sat up and left, mentioning he wanted to get a drink and read one of his books quietly by himself for awhile before bed and you were left to lay in the growing darkness, contemplating over what the rest of this interesting first week could bring.

Thanks for reading and I appreciate the patience as I work on this story more ❤️

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weirdworldofwinnie · 1 year ago

Text

A Darling Distraction

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only Oneshot

(Mood board by Selene Shelby @forgottenpeakywriter, this fic is especially for you, so I hope you enjoy! Thanks for the initial idea and support💕)

Summary: Robert's been married to you for a while and now in Los Alamos, after the last few years of hard work and a 'successful' Trinity Test, he desperately needs something he won't admit: his wife in pink satin lingerie and sexual stress relief.

Word Count: ~3,703

Warnings: Smut, unprotected and oral sex both ways, light daddy kink + breeding kink, some angst, mention of infidelity, period stereotypical gender roles, unspecified age gap (less than 10 years)

Disclaimer: Obviously NOT historically accurate to real life and is inspired by Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer in the film. It isn't supposed to be in total support and a complete reflection of the man's character, only my interpretation. Scroll away and DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this; it is primarily for entertainment purposes only and it is just fantasy/fiction!

This is strictly a one shot story, no more will be added to it. If you want to read other Cillian!Oppenheimer fanfiction, check out my Masterlist

Tags: @happysparklingshadows (@forgottenpeakywriter wanted me to tag you), @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86

It had been less than 24 hours since the denotation of the gadget and Dr. Robert Oppenheimer's eyes had been engulfed in fire; the aftermath of a hot white flash as bright as a hundred suns blowing out his pupils, followed by a colorful mushrooming cloud that was somehow simultaneously beautiful and horrific. Between the hours before and after Trinity, he had thought of Jean and her influential poetry, and you of course, but now the bomb had become him and only that one vision filled his mind, haunting him.

All day he had been at the lab and offices, but mostly at the main mess hall celebrations that flowed with chatter and too many drinks shared amongst the military and scientists alike whom many believed had been witness to a great success, a miracle, but also the worst of humanity had just been born into creation. Oppenheimer had become what he supposed he had been destined to be all along: Prometheus, doomed to bring great power and advancement to humanity at a steep cost. He was the destroyer of worlds, but not technically yet, and that was the worst of it. The early morning test was exactly that; a trial, a preview of what was to manifest, and very soon would the world get to see such power he had helped birth. He desired peace, but the trick was he was only attaining that through warfare like never before. The stress was far from over and he was afraid to become a nervous wreck by the end of the decade with all these dark pervasive thoughts and doubts. Depression was nigh on the back of pressuring anxiety and there was no way anything would ever be the same again. He had changed, the world had changed, seamlessly overnight.

As he clumsily unlocked the front door to his home with slightly shaking fingers and stumbled inside, reaching up to remove his porkpie hat and hang it up on the coatrack, he called out your name hoarsely. After a beat of listening and there was no response, he sighed... Maybe you'd already gone to bed or were tucking in the children, whatever it was he didn't know and didn't care because he was too wrapped up in his own emotions. He felt ecstatic that all the hard work had come to fruition and they cemented history, but he was also at a paradoxical point of great accomplishment and great moral failure; the duality of man. But most importantly: it worked. Now what they would do with it was another matter he couldn't quit thinking about.

He reflexively twitched for a cigarette in his shirt pocket, but he was empty, so he walked to the bedroom single mindedly and fumbled for a box in the side table, yanking out the drawer and shifting through to pick up a pack of Chesterfield's.

"Darling?"

He jumped, spinning around with a huff and hand on his hip to see you standing in the shadows of the entryway and draped in a pink robe snug around your frame and he noticed your feet were bare as if you'd just been dressing.

"Y/N, I thought you were... Are the children in bed?"

"An hour ago, they were fussy and very insistent with missing Daddy, but once I read to them they finally settled down. You've been absent all day because of the test, what made you actually come home?"

He shook his head, finding relief and refuge in taking a long drag on the cigarette and blowing the smoke out, gesturing at you with the butt of it.

"You brought in the sheets like I told you to?"

"Of course, I knew."

"Good."

He moved to the edge of the bed and sat down heavily, rubbing his forehead and you noticed the tiredness he exuded for a man who usually was so attentive with higher energy levels, and how sunken in and sad his wide ocean eyes were. These past few years had taken a tremendous toll on his wellbeing more than ever... His jutting cheekbones and general gauntness were more pronounced with the unhealthy loss of weight and crinkles of wrinkles were all he truly kept gaining in eventual amounts; crow's feet, forehead lines, nasolabial folds, and etches under his eyes. His dark hair, kept meticulously cut short, was greying at the sides. Even his teeth, if inspected closely, were on a fast track to faintly showing signs of aging decay from all the smoking and drinking he did on a daily basis.

Robert was not the picture, nor rarely the temperament, of boyish youth you remembered from Berkeley.

Truthfully, you and him hadn't had proper sex in many months; it just wasn't very desirable or convenient between his never ending work that created distance between him and anyone who wasn't a scientist, the continuing socializing and parties with many other faces in town, and you personally spending days cleaning up and minding after little (often crying) children who did not have a clue of what their parents were doing out in the middle of the New Mexico desert surrounded by barbed wire fencing and uniformed men always patrolling. Life here was anything but boring, but the bedroom sure had become so. More often than not, Robert couldn't sleep soundly while you kept to your designated side of the bed and tried to ignore his tossing and turnings until eventually he doped himself up on sleeping pills to cope. He also hadn't been the same since the news of Jean Tatlock's passing and you highly suspected - no, knew - he had an affair during his trip to California once he had his security clearance approved. Of course it upset you he could be so idiotic and unfaithful, yet it wasn't shocking given his womanizing track record, but what made you more concerned was knowing how psychologically troubled Jean had been and if Robert thought he could offer her some consolation, he may have just made it worse and partly done her in. If he blamed himself for her death, you couldn't imagine carrying around that kind of guilt in addition to what he spent his time creating to end the war.

He stood now, restless, and began to pace an invisible groove into the flooring as he continually smoked and muttered to himself. You drifted away into the bathroom and shut the door, shrugging off your robe to the floor. You were completely nude underneath, coming off of a fresh bath and you had spritzed yourself with the best perfume you owned, hoping to surprise Robert, but something was clearly missing here.

Yes, and you know obviously what it is. It's his happiness, the spontaneousness that he has lost ever since he ran those calculations and went to Albert Einstein about a chain reaction igniting the atmosphere and blowing us all to bits. It was less than 0.1% chance, but it reminded him of the bigger issue... creating such a weapon with the power to destroy oneself was mighty weighty on any half decent man's conscience and even a rotten one's, for he too would be annihilated in the process if ever taken far enough. Everything these days was pure existential dread, no doubt about that, and no wonder Robert wasn't in the mood for love. His heart was being drained of it daily and you wanted to help, to fill him again even if just for once. It was difficult to watch him continually self-destruct and negatively affect those around him.

So you plucked up the ready matching pink folded satin lingerie he'd gifted you for the fifth wedding anniversary off the countertop and slipped into it, banking on the fact that it made you look sexually irresistible... And oh, it certainly did dial the appeal up to ten. You sauntered out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom where Robert was now seated on the bed, nose deep in a book and paperwork, clearly engrossed and a permanent frown was driven into his skin between his sculpted eyebrows.

"I have something for you, love," you announced softly as you leaned in the doorway, letting your body be on full display in such a loose, risqué little number.

"Hmm?" he murmured distractedly, haphazardly fluttering pages.

"Are you even reading any of that?" you asked flatly and he accidentally dropped it to the floor, hands still quivering and he tried to get up, wavering on his feet as you watched him in a strange state of both nerves cracking and drunkenness. You ached to make him better and by golly, tonight you would even if you had to throw yourself at him.

"Robert, don't you want to look at me? I have a surprise on..."

"I should pick this up and go to bed with a pill," he said to only himself, bending over and scooping the paperwork and book into his arms before standing unsteadily and he turned his back, carelessly dumping the materials onto the side table. You quickly strode up behind him and slid an arm around his waist, fingers drumming on his metal belt buckle splashed with a tinge of turquoise design.

He froze as you wound a bare leg around one of his and he reached behind his back, brushing your scantily clad silky bottom, fingers gliding over the fabric and making you moisten.

"The lingerie, you're wearing it," he stated and you couldn't quite tell if he was delighted by this or not.

"So I am, I know it's been a while since you gifted me with it, so tonight I thought I'd finally return the favor after the amount of stress we've been under, especially you."

"You-you're proposing I need... oh no. No, I don't know if I'm, uh, ready-no, I don't know if I-I can, I mean do-handle it-" he stuttered out and you fought a laugh. Oppie the great improviser, the genius, the man always in control of the proverbial cockpit was ironically clearly not thinking all that straight tonight and for once in his life, absolutely tongue-tied. You may not have much power as a housewife (that earned psychology degree had been so far deemed useless once you moved with him and had children) in this godforsaken place, but you had this way of melting your husband to molten lava that no one else was capable of. His mouth utterly agape, you ran your hands around the leather of the belt and snaked another leg around his, squeezing gently into his side as you put your lips close to his ear, murmuring.

"You know that we both need it, so just let me work my magic like a good old fashioned whore..."

He bristled, catching your hand still fondling his belt and pushing away lightly.

"I would never refer to you as that," he said, completely unamused and perhaps with a veil of disgust too that you thought seemed unnecessary.

"What am I, then, just the stoic scientific director's wife who will be at your side when you receive a Nobel for your work in stopping the world from global conflict with explosions and implosions?"

His sharp jaw clenched and in one swift motion, he abruptly fell over sideways onto the bed and you startled, leaning over and gripping at his shoulder, worried.

"Oh, Robert, are you sick? I was just being a bit sarcastic."

He closed his eyes, obviously in some sort of internal turmoil that didn't merit sharing fully.

"No, I just... We don't need to do this, not now, not when I'm having a pretty bad time. I'm fatigued, probably drunk, and I should talk to the General tomorrow about the schedule. I'll be wanting to fly to Washington soon; the President will be expecting a briefing and they need to determine the exact target and then once it's all over we'll need to settle somewhere else and..."

He began to murmur anxiously about all the engagements he was expecting (postwar and not) and you shook your head, pushing down on his chest.

"But don't you want a distraction, a temporary all consuming joy for one night?" you pressed and he finally looked up at you, really gazed at you, and a genuine buttery smile spread across his mouth.

"Come here, my love," he whispered while tugging at the lingerie panty bow unsuccessfully and you clamored onto the bed beside him. He paused, licking his lips, and then spoke too briskly.

"We'll get straight to it and once I finish, it should help me sleep naturally better than those prescriptions."

You sat up, shoving him playfully and scowling.

"That has to be the least sexist statement you've ever said to me in the bedroom. Don't you want a marathon, not a sprint? Enjoy me, Robert. That's what I'm really here for anyhow, your darling distraction."

He took this in, then rolled over on top of you, his hot alcohol and nicotine infused breath on your cheeks as he breathed heavily, and you made a cringing face.

"How many drinks have you had today? You smell of a bar and I'm thinking you should rinse your mouth out before you get the luxury of having me."

"You do, hm? I guess that's a command, Mrs. Oppenheimer," he smirked and sat up, shoving off to the bathroom and you went to go put on a record on the turntable in the living room. The classical music crackled through and you walked back to the bedroom, laying into a seductive position onto the bed, one leg propped up with a bent knee and your arm draped across the headboard.

When he came back, his eyes widened at the sight of you as though it was finally registering and he wet his lips again, unapologetically hungry. He moved to the bed, shrugging his suit jacket off to drop to the floor, taking off his black tie, and mindlessly undoing the buttons on his white shirt. That was quickly discarded as you waited for him to remove his socks and shoes, pretending to be impatient by switching position to cross your legs and checking your manicure.

"Hurry up, Oppie, I have a time limit here."

He shook his head disapprovingly, kicking the shoes under the bed and whipping off his belt, tossing it to the floor with a clunk before wrestling out of his trousers and you stared at his boxer clad skinny frame, the cock not even engaged yet... Looks like he's making you do all the work again. A petulant sigh escaped when you rolled your eyes and he pointed a finger, chastising.

"Patience, my love. Hasn't Daddy taught you anything at this point?"

You bit your lip as he leaned over and his bare chest collided with yours... You pulled him into an antsy kiss, mouths crushing each other needily and he tasted of tobacco and toothpaste, a strange combination, but better than before. You felt the slight sheen of cold water he had splashed on his skin transferring to yours and you gripped his neck, fingers splaying across the back of his head.

His own hands went to fondle your covered breasts and you pulled away from his kiss for a moment.

"You are divinely doll like in this, I love such feminine expression," he murmured in a kind of rapture.

"Shame it has to be stripped of me," you whispered with raised eyebrows.

"It's only garments, what really counts is here..." He suddenly squeezed both your breasts and you let out a spurt of high pitched noise, allowing him to remove the top, shimming it off your body in one motion and tossing it over his shoulder where the strap caught on the bedpost.

He thumbed over one nipple and then transferred to the other, teasing you to rock hard nubs. He moved to your panty, slipping it down and off to expose you, and you kicked it to the end of the bed. Then, in turn, you yanked down his underwear and his cock sprung out into your ready grip. You began to pump on it and getting him to a more erect state, rising up. He groaned lightly and you pulled the oozing tip to your mouth, parting lips and flicking your tongue out to carefully lick a strip along the length before taking head, making him grow stiffer and wetter by the minute. Your mouth popped of his length, swallowing, and he gripped your waist as he focused hard on you over his throbbing member.

"What do you want, my love? Do you want me?" he whispered huskily and you shivered in anticipated arousal.

"Yes, darling, I want you... I need you, you own me and I own you."

"Sounds like a fair arrangement," he breathed before crushing into you and began to rub, purely animalistic, all over your smooth body. His head burrowed down into your freshly shaved pussy just like how you and him liked it clean, licking at your folds and massaging your lower abdomen in a desperate frenzy. You dug nails into his hair, curling, and bucked your hips to meet his appetite when he slowly slithered on top. You groaned as you took him, all of him, and let his penis expand and stretch out your core to the fullest extent, clenching instinctively around the shaft as he thrust repeatedly until you were sent easily right over the edge in freefall.

"Mmm, Robert!" you squealed in ecstasy and he muffled you, hand slapping down over your mouth and shushing insistently.

"Shh, don't need to wake the children now. God knows they'll find Mommy and Daddy intimately together one of these days and be scarred for life at the sight." He chuckled as you whined behind his palm and grooved further at a pace you both knew very well. After years of marriage and sensual exploration, he knew all your sweet spots and sensitivities, when was too much, and yet it was taking all his self control not to completely plow you apart right now. His skin smacked against yours as he ground into you, hands everywhere at once and he peppered wet kisses all along your jaw to nape.

When his warm cum finally jetted into you, flooding in your cervix fully, you were unable to constrain a loud moan and he growled primally, his whole small frame shuddered through his own climax as you gripped his back, using his boney spine as placeholders for your fingers as he rocked further at a steady pace, not going to come out right away.

More orgasms came fast and one after the other, especially as you rolled over and he took his place beneath and you rode his cock in a fervor, letting the peak hit all over again and he watched in a dazed nirvana as you pleasured. When he finally pulled out from your used leaking hole, you could tell how satisfied he was having been able to hopefully successfully seed you and that signature smugness was so evident.

You laid panting at his side as he took up another smoke, struggling to keep his eyelids from closing and drifting off to sleep. You interweaved legs, soaking wet with combined fluids dripping onto the sheets, and he flit a free finger down to your soaked pussy, groping and nearly overstimulating you with another orgasm you didn't think could be as strong as the first. He grinned at the effect and cupped your mound with his palm, dominant of it as he spoke softly.

"Groves pointed out that I have no knowledge of birth control, which is true. By this rate, you'll be having yet another baby in nine months and I can only hope we are far from this current landscape and political climate then, never to return. You know, I'm hoping for another boy this time."

You sighed with a smile, rubbing your belly and his hand joined yours, rubbing circles over your navel.

"You make a wonderful mother," he commented in praise and you laughed lightly, bitterly, and glanced at him.

"I'm not perfect, I can barely hold it together these days when they're hungry, tired, and upset for no reason I can physically see at all... Sometimes I wish to wring their necks quite honestly. And you're very hardly the model father yourself when you are always away and hardly take care of them. I know the work is everything, but they need genuine paternal love more than your science to save them."

He shrugged, nonplussed, and then set his wispy cigarette to the ashtray before leaning his head against yours.

"We are probably horrible people, but I wouldn't have it any another way. To create life with you is more than I could selfishly do alone, for obvious reasons untold."

You laughed again at his dry humor and intertwined your body with his own, wishing you could crawl inside his skin and live in his bone structure. He was absolutely everything to you, even on bad days, and maybe his prestige and stability contributed to that, but there was real love underneath his flaws.

"Whatever you face, I'll be here to try to mitigate it," you whispered seriously and he nodded, appreciative.

"I trust you and I love you, Y/N. It won't get easier for me, for us, and I'm afraid the future may be as horrifying as I imagine it."

"That's why we have sex, to stave off the inevitable for a little while," you told him, tears pushing out and slipping down your cheeks. He caught one with his finger and wiped it clean off, staring at the translucent wet spot at the tip of his fingernail sadly. It wasn't unusual for you to weep after sex, but this felt different.

"Kiss me," he murmured and you leaned forward as he grabbed the back of your head and smooshed in, tongues writhing together for a few seconds before you both pulled away, breathing in the same air together.

"Tonight is good enough for me," he decided and you snuggled into his neck, closing your eyes to succumbing exhaustion.

In an uncertain frightening world full of variables, you vowed to be his one constant for life.

Thanks for reading 🖤

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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

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weirdworldofwinnie · 1 year ago

Text

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Five: Party

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: The Oppenheimers' host a party at the house and Robert is as crowd pleasing as usual, especially with the ladies, while you find yourself doubting the relationship and in the midst of a sudden surprising rumor going around.

Word Count: ~4,548

Warnings: Age gap, period stereotypical gender roles, slight infidelity and talk of, gossip, martial angst

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy, i.e. characters such as the Thompsons are made-up and as a whole, this fic is essentially very much a dramatization and AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer, Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence, etc.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Tag List: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @uniquetacofun, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86

If you'd like to be tagged, let me know.

May 1943

The yard was brightly awash in sunlight as you found yourself on your hands and knees digging in the garden plot, preparing to plant and transplanting a couple shrubs. You weren't above physical labor and it was nice to be productive outside of the house and in town; anything involving the earth directly was refreshing.

Life in Los Alamos had smoothed out into a sort of normal routine with Robert working and you studying while keeping house and babysitting the Thompson children multiple times a week. It was a bit isolating day-to-day, but you didn't mind much considering how important this venture was and there was less pressure on your end at least once everyone was settled. Since the kitchen had been remodeled, tonight would be the largest gathering at the house since Robert's 39th birthday bash last month (which marked the occasion by a fine meal of steak and asparagus for dinner and a large cake, lit with an array of candles and nearly everyone in attendance wore shiny party hats). For this evening, the scientists and their significant others were just looking to converse but more importantly relax and have a fun time, so you made sure everything was set and enough drinks were to be served with Robert having shown you how to prepare one of his dry martinis correctly, which you'd be serving to the guests.

At six o'clock, the Thompsons arrived first with their two boys and you led them inside. Little Duncan immediately spotted the batch of sugar cookies you had baked earlier on a whim.

"Cookies!" he yelled, racing to the plate on the coffee table and hungrily grabbing at several with his chubby hands, causing his mother to chastise him with a shocked scold.

"Manners, please!"

But in his excitement, the plate went crashing to the floor and you cringed, quickly bending down to clean up the cracked halves and cookie crumbs scattered onto the rug. Thankfully you had no shortage of serving plates, used to the occasional broken dishware by now.

"No, no, it's okay," you assured the toddler as his bottom lip wobbled and you handed him a cookie which he gobbled up guiltily.

"Duncan, what do you say?" Mrs. Thompson asked sharply.

"Tank you," he mumbled around the mouthful and you smiled, swiftly chucking the plate into the trash.

"I'm so sorry, he can be very careless often," she apologized, but you waved a hand dismissively.

"It's alright. He might as well take the rest since it's likely they will go stale before I alone have the chance to eat them all."

"Doesn't Robert enjoy your baking?"

"Oh, he doesn't really eat and he isn't as fond of any dessert without chocolate in it."

"He still hasn't been eating much?" she asked out of mild concern.

"Well, always rather minimally. He only has a real meal if it's a special occasion or I coherence him to... He usually just has his morning coffee and toast, maybe an orange. I like to think he is just too preoccupied with life and work to consider the normal consumption of food. He's just mentally too full."

"That is still peculiar, though. Good for you to put up with it, heaven knows how annoyed I would get if I cooked and baked all day and my husband ate a measley fraction with hardly any appreciation."

"No, he is grateful about it," you corrected, but she raised a skeptical brow and then you were distracted by more guests arriving.

Once night fully fell, you took up precedence in the kitchen at the counter making drinks and assuring there was enough martinis and appetizers to go around. From the sounds of it, the atmosphere was getting a bit rowdy out in the main party area of the living room: music resounding from the record player, Richard Feynman banging on his bongos, and the sound of shoes dancing the fox trot.

"I see Oppie has put you on drink duty tonight."

You turned to see Dr. Ernest Lawrence standing a few feet away with his signature smirk and you smiled, gesturing with a glass to his direction.

"What, you actually want one?" you teased a bit sarcastically and he winked, the room lights glinting off his round glasses.

"You bet." He accepted the cold drink and took a sip, nodding in approval.

"Never had a better martini," he praised and you took a sip of your own, swirling the strong flavor on your tongue as he leaned against the counter, causally observing about how it was a good turnout.

"It's nearly as many that came for his birthday," you agreed with a nod.

"It's nice to be able to get out of the work atmosphere of the laboratory for a hot minute and relax," he commented.

"I bet. Robert's not giving you too much grief over there, is he?"

"No, just the usual frustrations that I can't talk about, pardon it. You could partly guess it though; it started with my Rad Lab, the unionizing and differential ideas... But I will say as much as we respect each other, Oppie needs to not act so much like a Communist sometimes; it's detrimental to all of us and especially him, the damn brilliant fool," Lawrence said rather bitterly and you raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean by that oxymoron?"

He shook his head of whatever thoughts he had and finished his drink too hastily, giving you back the nearly empty glass. His fingers brushed your hand for a few seconds, causing both his and your wedding rings to briefly clink together, before he pulled away and smiled again.

"Thanks for the drink, Y/N." He walked out of the kitchen and absorbed into the wider huddles of people in the lounge as you looked on curiously.

About an hour later, you took a break from the kitchen to go converse with a few lady friends and couldn't help but notice Robert seated comfortably on the sofa, bumping knees by being sandwiched in-between his close friend Dr. Ruth Tolman and her husband Richard. She was blonde and attractive, whip smart, and currently listening intently and hanging onto every word and expression he made while conversing and you felt a small prick of unexpected... envy? You knew Ruth personally and she was a pleasant intelligent woman in a challenging field, which made Robert deeply respect her, but it also reminded you of the comparisons and why he admired her. She was significantly older than you (and even had ten years on him) and was trailblazing in her occupation while you were struggling through obtaining a nursing degree despite being plunked down in the middle of government sanctioned nowhere and shoehorned into housekeeping and hosting. You clenched the drink in your hand, nails driving into the glass as you watched them, distracted from your conversation with the ladies, and Robert was animatedly explaining something as she leaned closer, a tinkle of laughter reaching your ears. You excused yourself from the gaggle of women and drifted closer while trying to remain somewhat inconspicuous and watching carefully as he focused intently on her, completely oblivious of you standing no more than eight feet away.

"The damn brilliant fool."

Maybe Lawrence was right? You weren't sure why you were feeling so protectively paranoid all of a sudden. It had to be nothing, but you still felt a tiny smidge of annoyance seeing how much she was clearly enjoying Robert's presence tonight and vice versa (given a few drinks of course) but many women in general were not immune to his strange charm, so it was to be expected. Hell, they had been positively fawning over him at his birthday last month and many in town marveled at his leadership, gentlemanly qualities, and magnetic charisma despite his eccentricities and intimating intellect.

Robert could talk for hours about nearly any academical subject, philosophy, Greek mythology, politics and ideologies (although that was a bit stamped out here due to the secrecy and military oversight), religion, science obviously, any personal matters and interests (except sports), and basically anything that warranted an opinion. And people always listened, no matter if they had precise knowledge in the subjects or not, and the appeal was undeniable to most women you knew, heterosexual or not. He was something special, that was for sure, and you were afraid Ruth might be taking advantage of this as she placed a manicured hand softly on his knee, laughing with him.

You retreated back somewhat to avoid awkwardness in case either him or her noticed you staring (which they never did) and considered checking up on the state of the kitchen, when four-year-old Douglas came excitedly running over, weaving between the legs of the adults.

"Mrs. Oppen-hemmer, come look at what I found!" He abruptly took your hand and pulled you away to the front door and outside into the front yard, plunking himself down on the rock pathway. The glowing yellow lights from the windows and house made shadows cast across the ground in eerie splinters and dark patches on the ground.

"What is it?" you asked, squinting in the dimness to see exactly what he was so invested in and he poked at a black bulbous miniscule shape lodged in the space between the slabs.

"Oh, it's just an arthropod. A common ground beetle, I believe," you told him, disguising disgust as he kept poking at it with interest until you gently batted his fingers away.

"Don't bother it too much," you told him and he sighed, rolling onto his side and staring in fascination that was lost on you, but whatever humored him was fine.

You went to take a seat on the front step, listening to the bubble of conversation, music, and glasses clinking inside the house as you absentmindedly watched the little boy, ruminating on a few past snippets of conversation you remembered having with friends and family, who were commenting critically at the time on your rather fast relationship with Robert before you practically eloped.

"You're making a mistake with a premature marriage, you need to prioritize your education first, a man second."

"Well, didn't you pick one of the highest hung fruit of the land. Dr. Oppenheimer, I must say! You make the rest of us seem subpar."

"But Jean and him make such a impassionate, powerful couple. He calls her his truest love and has proposed marriage to her before you, so he'll only be settling for you if you accept him, don't forget that."

"Sweetheart, listen to me. You know I love you and will accept whomever you choose, but think about this dearly before you exchange vows. A physicist, this older man's a physicist. What on earth are you going to have in common with a scientific genius like that? He'll support the hell out of you with his teaching, I understand, and I like that he's a wealthy born New Yorker, but... and I say this with love - love - you're just not perhaps up to such standards? I want the best for ya honey, I do, but you couldn't match with, say, a businessman instead? Someone who doesn't have his brains up in the high clouds, all this theoretical talk of dark matter and black holes... Do you even understand any of that? You have as much in common with his interests as the moon and he'll never have use for you intellectually, only fundamentally. My daughter's not Marie Curie, forgive me."

That last one had been from your father and you had been personally affronted, insisting angrily that it didn't matter, for Robert didn't only love scientists with very high IQ scores, for goodness's sake.

"Father, he doesn't need me for his fill of physics, he has many outlets and he's not only a man of science; he so dearly loves poetry, art, classical music, equestrians, global and national history, Hinduism - he can read Sanskrit for God's sake! - and any matter of politics..."

"He's too good for you, sweetheart. That man has more knowledge than an encyclopedia, you'd need an index just for reference in his causal conversations. Now, come home back east if this whole college venture doesn't pan out in California... Remember the Paulson's? Jack has a son who just turned twenty and is majoring in finance, he'd love to meet ya, someone closer in age and caliber."

"But I'm not into finance, I'm pursuing medicine and psychology."

"You'd just be a quack in that field, I'm telling you. Follow the market money, not dilly-dallying in dating theoretical physicists and Freudian psychiatry. You need a man who knows his numbers in a practical sense, who will make a stable husband and you a nice homemaker. You're my only child, so I'll be awaiting grandchildren."

It was safe to say your father could be a bit... pushy and simple-minded. You hated the way you were easily boxed in, setting up your life already yet scoffing at when it was too good. You weren't a chemist nor would you be a bank teller (besides, your father was only so fixated on that because he almost lost his entire fortune due to the Great Depression) and yet being only a housewife seemed to be selling yourself short. Since the war began, you saw the need for help in the medical field and if psychiatry wouldn't have you, then you could at least become a nurse with the hopes of eventually excelling to physician with extra schooling. But of course, Robert had obtained his doctorate years ago and his younger ex-girlfriend Jean had graduated from Stanford recently while you were stuck here.

"He's too good for you, sweetheart."

You swallowed, beginning to wonder if that was possibly coming true... Did he only keep you around for the sex, usefulness in the home and kitchen, and for probable inevitable breeding of children? He didn't truly respect you, did he? Were you just an arm piece, the beautiful secure wife to come home to after he, the theoretical celebrity, saved the world? If you had none of those aforementioned qualities and were a "mere, plain waitress" like he would say about his brother's fiancée, Jackie, would he discard you as quickly as last week's newspaper?

Were you only a lovely wife and nothing more?

"We can't all be the spirited intellectual fancy Communist Miss Tatlock," you mumbled unhappily to yourself, hardly noticing that Douglas had come over and was standing in front of you, leaning his body from side to side as he stared at you.

"Okay?" he asked and you blinked, wiping your face quickly to hide the blatant emotion. You hadn't even realized you'd been shedding tears.

"Oh, yes, I'm okay."

He held up his hand gently curled into a fist with his thumb up and wiggled it around.

"I do this when Momma sees me fall, but I'm not hurt. Thumb means okay!" he explained proudly and you laughed, making your own 'thumbs up' and he giggled, bumping his knuckles to yours and making a goofy face, to which you did back, making him giggle in turn.

"Can we play a game?"

"What do want to play?" you asked and he scrunched up his face before exclaiming.

"Hopscotch!"

"Oh, but we don't have the sidewalk chalk for that and besides, it's too dark," you tried to tell him, but he had already made up his mind.

"Lemme go get Dunky and we can play together!" he proclaimed, using the nickname for his little brother and he dashed into the house, coming out a moment later with Duncan in tow behind him.

The boys however proved chalk wasn't necessary and rather only their imaginations as they used the pathway, tossing a rock, jumping, and counting happily. Douglas led the game, his brother following and inadvertently copying his footsteps, and when they insisted for you to join in, you considered the fact that you were in one of your best dresses and worried to be seen as too silly.

"C'mon!" Douglas shouted, doing a gregarious hop a few feet forward, nearly stumbling over his own shoes, and you hoped he wouldn't injure himself and make you liable. You glanced down at your high heels and shrugged.

Oh, screw it.

You removed them and carefully joined the boys all the same, doing a bit of hopscotch until you bored of it and sat back down, slipping your mildly sore feet back into the heels, and were amused at their energetic antics.

"Want to adopt them? I'll ask," Robert's lightly sarcastic voice made you startle and you glanced over your shoulder as he came out of the house and took a seat down beside you.

"I'm kidding," he smiled and you waved a hand fondly over at them.

"They're good boys," you stated as he looked on, sighing wistfully.

"They still haven't felt the sharp sting of the world's cruelty yet nor were they born cruel," he observed.

"I sure hope they never become like that, although as long as we are at war, who is to say?" you replied quietly and he looked at you fondly.

"You're good with them, they trust and like you quite a lot," he remarked, gesturing to the kids with his martini glass.

"I suppose we have formed a fast kinship somehow and I do my best," you replied humbly.

"I can tell. The Thompsons will be leaving soon, why don't you call them in? I believe it is way past bedtime for the young ones."

"Boys?" you called, gesturing and after a moment, they came hurrying up.

"How about you find your mother, okay? I think it's time to go home for bed," you told them and they whined a bit, insisting they weren't tired.

"You don't want to get in trouble, do you?" Robert asked sternly.

"Nuh-uh," Duncan replied, sticking his bottom lip out and Robert patted him on the back, sending them inside and as soon as they left and you and Robert bid goodnight to their parents, he went back outside and sat down in one of the chairs in the yard and you joined, breathing in the smoke from his tobacco pipe. You wondered why he was out here instead of being at the center of the party inside, it was unlike him.

He glanced to you, wary, and the question that came out his mouth next caught you unprepared.

"Have you ever considered having an affair on me?"

You stared at him, any emotional warmth evaporating in the cool night air.

"God, no, what? Robert, you know I have always maintained I'm not interested in other men. Why... Has someone said something?"

"There's a fresh rumor going around that you have a mutual interest in Ernest Lawrence; I heard from one of the women back in there declare that you were clearly flirting with him in the kitchen over a drink."

"A rumor? That's just a bold faced lie! I wasn't flirting in the slightest, we were merely having a plain conversation!" you exclaimed, standing up but his hand caught your waist, gripping at your dress and you sat, glaring and breathing heavily. How dare she... You had a hunch it was the same wife from the first week here who was snarky to you when you were doing the laundry.

"It was just a passing comment, nothing to get worked up over," he quickly backpedaled as you grew visibly angry.

"But that could spread like wildfire in this bunch. I have to speak to that wretched woman!"

"I already told her and those around us that it was utter absurdity. You barely even interact with Ernest causally and I've never picked up romantic inclinations between the two of you," he assured, but you shook your head in disbelief.

"I just can't believe this blasphemy!"

"I couldn't either, which is why I came to you to confirm," he replied.

"I'm glad you did. I would never think of flirting with a married man and all I did was give him one drink as a hostess in our own house. Does he know about this?"

"I spoke to him just before I came out here. He's a bit punchy from the martinis, so he laughed for a minute straight at that accusation, and then when I asked him if he personally considered you to be a pretty woman, he told me that I am a 'pretty man'," Robert answered, uncertain of the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth and you stifled a laugh.

"I see. Well, he's not wrong there, you are dashing."

"Thank you," he murmured and you checked your watch, noticing it was getting late and the guests were beginning to leave. Robert noticed your restlessness and placed a cautioning hand on your arm, squeezing comfortingly.

"Let's avoid confrontation. You just wait here until they're gone," he advised and you pursed your lips, but let him go be the one to bid goodnight and usher everyone out.

After several minutes of watching small groups of friends, acquaintances, and pairs of couples exit down the path to the road one by one, you finally stood and walked back into the house, forcing a smile at a few stranglers left - Robert's men - filing out and helping a couple up from the table as they could barely stand up and walk, having had one martini too many. As you turned around in the hallway, none other than Ernest Lawrence himself bumped into you seemingly out of nowhere and he looked decidedly drunker than you'd ever seen him.

"Excuse me," you muttered, starting to duck around him when he grabbed your wrist and leaned down so swiftly to lock lips, his glasses banging into your face as he smashed onto your mouth with surprising force. You instinctively shoved him back, blinking in shock as he stumbled slightly and steadied himself with a hand on the wall.

"Fuck, get away from me!" you hissed in shock.

His eyes were a bit glazed and he shook his head, wiping his mouth sloppily of your lipstick with the back of his hand.

"No wonder Oppie married you straightaway, the girl can serve a mean martini and a decent mouth-to-mouth," he muttered.

"I'll take that as a compliment, now get the hell out of our house," you ordered, pushing his broad back towards the front door and he didn't resist.

"It's Oppie's world... you and I are just living in it," Lawrence grumbled as you shoved him out, slamming the door, and feeling grateful that his wife had already left with others.

You went quickly to the bathroom and rinsed out your mouth and smeared off the ruby lipstick. You thoroughly washed your face over and over with cold water, frowning when you glanced up with your mascara running and saw Robert's shadow in the mirror behind you.

"I feel as though I've been set up. Your best pal Lawrence just stole a kiss before he left, I thought you'd like to know!" you exclaimed loudly as you wiped your face of makeup with a cloth and he made a noncommittal gesture.

"He was drunk, forgive him."

"You're not upset with this whole nonsense?"

"He never would have done it otherwise if he wasn't under the influence, that's the loosest he gets and frankly I think it's good for him to step outside his stiffer cautionary boundaries. But I'll speak about it to him tomorrow if he even recalls. You have nothing to worry about unless you happen to fancy him, then we do have a problem to fix."

"No, I do not find him as fetching as you. Quite honestly, I'm tired of tonight and wish to go to bed. Goodnight, Robert." You dried your face and brushed past him to change out of your formal dress wear and he stood, watching.

"It feels different when it's the opposite sex, doesn't it?" he inquired in a passive aggressive tone and you snapped, throwing your heels into the closet harder than necessary.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, when it's me and Jean or me and Kitty or-"

"Don't bring up those other women to me, you'll regret it. Please shut up and come to bed when you're ready," you ordered grumpily and slipped into bed in just your bra and panties, covering your body with the sheets and rolling over so you didn't have to see him. You were tempted to ask about Ruth, but that potential fuel for an argument would have to be saved for another day and besides, she was just a long time friend. She never had spoken a bad word about you and was always so supportive to Robert... Perhaps it was only the alcohol that had infected everyone's judgement tonight.

You thought uncomfortably about Ernest's warm drunken mouth suctioning onto yours and you glanced over your shoulder at Robert removing his shoes and relaxing back on the bed, striking up a cigarette and sighing when a terribly naughty thought came to you. What if you stirred up expectations and purposely fed into this "rumor" (or perhaps actual one-sided attraction on his part, you weren't so sure now) just to unnerve Oppie, give him a taste of his own medicine? You had lied a bit earlier about not being interested in other men, of course you glanced at times when someone caught your attraction, but you never actively sought them out and certainly not Lawrence. He wasn't half bad looking, but the idea of provoking this further was tempting yet you knew it was impossible without consequences and you hated to offend his wife. People would find out and you'd be painted in a bad outlook, and you certainly did not wish to be the adulteress of Los Alamos, flirting and hooking up with every male scientist who so as looked at you. Of course, when a man cheated, it was typically not completely condemning of his character, whereas a woman would be splashed with a bold scarlet letter on her chest for the rest of her life. Of course, you wouldn't even be having these thoughts if Robert hadn't said anything and Lawrence hadn't done what he did.

You felt a sudden tug on the sheets and gritted your teeth, yanking them back from your husband who was trying to get comfortable beside you.

"I hope you're not cold," you remarked snappily and he huffed, rolling over very close despite your standoffish attitude and he was likely quite drunk, although he was never one to show it obnoxiously since he took alcohol unusually well.

"I'm not the one lying here nearly naked. Our nights have been so dry, even Sundays, and you know I'll have less and less time the farther we get along in the project. Have you considered we haven't had proper intimacy since my birthday?" he bemoaned.

You ignored that fact, mildly annoyed he apparently needed sex more than once a week and after this evening's events you were hardly in the mood without imagining Ernest's lips on yours.

So much for thinking everything was going well and undramatic... Couldn't even a simple get-together be decent and clean around this place? You supposed not.

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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.

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