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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 9 months

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You're waiting for a train...(4)

Painted Windmills

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Eames and Y/n embark on their intel operation and Eames only has one rule for Y/n; do not be seen.

word count - 2.4k

warnings - hospitals, blood (so minor tho), sadness

a/n - finally we have them meeting!!! Also I know some people may disagree with Eames' reactions in this but remember he is thinking about how this job is important for Cobb and Y/n.

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

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Eames led me in with his hand on my back in faux professionalism but with genuine care. We had dressed up all nice and proper for our first day. The thick black dress hugged my curves in a way I was not used to, and revealed my legs way more than I could stand. It felt constricting compared with the jeans (which I’d had for years) and baggy shirts I usually wore on jobs. I fixed my newly acquired fake glasses and my disguise was complete.

We walked up the stone steps to the house that loomed like my private gallows. Why was I so nervous? Eames was right next to me, and this was hardly the first intel operation I’d done with him.

I wobbled about in my precarious heels and my ankles practically gave out when I reached the fourth step. My embarrassment was saved by Eames’ quick grasp of my elbow, righting me lest I draw attention to our entrance.

Our fancy dress shoes clinked in synchronisation and stopped to face each other before we breached the fateful doors. One last debrief.

“What are we here to do?” Eames prepped me.

“Gather as much information about the father-son relationship and see what we can use to our advantage. And you’re going to be studying Browning to mimic his movement, mannerisms, and speech.” I completed with pride.

“Very good baby Cobb.”

“Hey! I vetoed that nickname!”

“The most important thing is don’t be seen.” I raised my eyebrow at his ridiculous request. “You know what I mean, don’t draw attention to yourself. And whatever you do, don’t talk to Fischer.”

I laughed at how serious he looked holding my gaze. I tried to leave to go in, thinking the conversation was done. But I was held in place by his hand on my arm.

“Don’t talk to Robert.” He tilted his head, and I felt the meaning of his words. He’d seen me with the picture. I shucked his hand off my arm and left abruptly.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I seethed.

He met the quick pace I had formed so he didn’t see the distress I felt at his distrust. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust me, he thought he needed to manage me. Take care of me. Like I was a child.

We both arrived at the top of a dark oak staircase that exuded the feel of wealth and prosperity. The house was so quiet that my heels were like a gunshot in a library. I began to tilt my head up to look at the expanse of the house in wonder. It seemed it had more shadows than glimmers of light. The house choked on its own emptiness.

“Mr and Mrs Trent?” A perky blonde approached us as we walked around the first floor aimlessly.

I panicked at her assumption. “No, no, no, no. We are not a couple—not even--. Miss James.” I shoved out my hand hoping she and I would both forget my stuttering. Great first impression.

She reluctantly met my hand. “Okay, I see well if you both come this way, we can get you started. There is quite a lot to do due to Mr Fischer’s declining health. You will both be responsible for sorting through the different files; making sure, if an account is prepared, it is filed away, and if it’s not, it is highlighted to be looked at.” Eames’ and I’s mouths ached from the smiles we were forcing towards Little Miss Big Boobs.

But we both righted our faces to make it seem like we were focused on the 'challenging' task rather than admitting this kind of work was trivial compared to our own jobs. We placed our bags down, took the exaggerated lapel badges handed to us, and began to quickly complete our task. We had previously discussed that we would complete the task first, not wanting to have hindered the Fischer empire any more than we were already going to, then go about our snooping.

I opened my first file, quickly read it, then assigned it it’s place. I’d always had a mind that worked faster than most. Arthur used to joke that my projections run rather than walk. This meant general schoolwork had seemed mundane to me when I was a child. Kids can be cruel to the kid who always finishes first. No one likes a show off.

After I had read my 10th file in less than 5 minutes, I noticed Eames was gesturing and mouthing something towards me.

‘SLOW DOWN’ Ah I forgot. Don’t draw attention to yourself.

My job here wasn’t exactly defined, by Fischer or Eames.

Eames trailed Browning like a shadow, subtly mimicking every move in a sort of dress rehearsal. I tracked him with my gaze, in awe at his skill. Partially because his skill was slick enough to pass between everyone’s tired eyes.

All at once, a commotion began around my section. Some balshy intern had decided to push Browning for an answer on question he didn’t want to hear. He went on to sarcastically suggest that the intern should bring the question to Maurice himself. He strutted away and drove open the large double doors that blanketed the room. When the oak parted I found myself moving away from my corner to peek into the scene revealed.

Maurice Fischer lay on his hospital bed surrounded by equipment which stood in contrast to the dark interior that sat around them. Browning walked through and instead of approaching Fischer senior; he made his way to the window where a man stood. His back was to me, but his figure was distinguished. My feet edged me forward a little more.

“Argghh” Maurice flailed out his arms. In his frenzy, he had knocked down a picture from his bedside. The man turned at the noise and it was there I saw the face I had longed to see. Robert Fischer.

He moved to pick up the picture with a sort of meekness. And as he looked up to his father there was a sense of shame there. As if he was once again the height of a young boy. He rose, broken picture scarring his hand. I see Browning and Fischer exchange words. I inch forward more so that my frame centres in the doorway. Suddenly…

“Mr Browning, I have some—” CRASH.

The balshy intern from before slams into my shoulder and knocks me onto the floor. Papers fly everywhere and I audibly wince when my knees come in contact with the hardwood floor. Shit.

I compose myself, trying not to consider how obvious I just made myself. As I slide my pages back together, 2 more hands join my own. I stop in my tracks, registering the person before me. I reluctantly look up and fall into a pool of blue.

“Are you okay?” I sharply intake.

He studies my face as I fail to speak. When I see him poised for an answer, my brain snaps back.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*Robert’s pov*

“I put it there.” My finger drags down the cracked memory. “He didn’t even notice.”

My thoughts are overtaken when a loud crash reverberates throughout the room. My head snaps up, annoyed at the offending noise, but when I look up, I am overcome. I see a girl on the floor struggling to clean up her mess. I rush to her aid, glaring at the man who had knocked her down. As I passed him, I gently stated,

“You’re fired.” He goes to argue but retreats back into the office.

I kneel in front of her rushed attempt at clearing up and chuckle at how she had just seemed to make more mess in her haste.

“Are you okay?” She met my eyes and my breath caught as I fully took her in. She was beautiful.

Minute long seconds passed of us just gazing. I could have stayed there a lifetime if she let me.

“Yes, I am fine. I am so sorry about the mess; I’ll clean it up and I’d understand if you want me to leave.” I stopped her rambling by clasping her hand in mine. I then picked strands of her hair to place behind her ears to reveal more of the face she was trying to hide. Her spew of words was like music to me and what interested me even more were her little laughs between thoughts, as if apologetic for what she said.

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*your pov*

My sputtering was pathetic, but I was rendered speechless when he held my hand. I quickly retracted the offending limb to push up my glasses as if they could save me now. My thoughts were equally filled with his words but also my warnings. I had to leave and tell Eames the mistake I’d made so we could rectify it.

Together we had collected the papers into a transportable pile, and I stood up. But I braved it too quickly and found myself stumbling in my heels once again. Robert hadn’t let go of me even as I stood up, making sure I was okay. My leg which had gone numb from my position on the floor gave out and pushed me into Robert’s awaiting arms.

I let myself sink further into the perfect feeling of being in his warmth. He felt like a warm beach in the afternoon sun. But I quickly remembered my place. I jumped back in fright.

“You’re bleeding!” Robert exclaimed. As I stumbled back, he had noticed drops of blood adorning my newly scraped knee.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I tried to placate his worry as I began to make my way to the exit.

“No, come, I’ll clean it up.” He grasped my hand and led me through his father’s room despite my protests.

“Mr Fischer, please, you are far too busy. I can sort it myself.” We had made it through another door that led into a room which was so uniquely childlike.

“Please, I’ve been looking for an excuse to leave.” He smirked at me and led me to sit down on the window seat. He went to a drawer for plasters and then another for disinfectant. He moved about the room with assuredness. He returned and lifted my leg so that it rested over his knees. I tugged down the end of my short-ish dress. He opened the disinfectant and dabbed it with cotton wool. As he went about this, I took in the room around me.

It felt busy but not cluttered. In the middle of the back wall sat a single bed with light blue cotton sheets. The sheets were decorated with multi-coloured windmills. The white bedside tables held many trinkets of a young boy. The chest of drawers was home to more pictures and framed memories. My head lifted higher, and I saw the sky painted blue and it held wooden planes that flew around the room with a freedom I believe the owner wished he had.

“This is your room, isn’t it.” I whispered.

He didn’t look up from my scar. “Yes.” He chuckled. “Not that I stay in it.”

We both laughed. “I could see you still squeezing into that.” I pointed to the neatly made bed.

“I have thought about it.” He remarked.

I braved my next words. “Or maybe you just want to sleep in a simpler time.” Our eyes met again.

I noticed a familiar picture which sat on the chest. And I realised it was the same one that rested on the window seat between us, covered by Robert’s jacket.

“Is that you and your dad?” I mentally smacked myself for such a stupid question.

“Yeah.” He spoke.

“How old are you here?” I picked up the delicate frame. I smiled at the picture of a young Robert blowing on a handmade windmill, sat in his father’s lap. I could feel the love radiating from this image. It now seemed so different to the coldness one felt in this house.

“10. The nurse said he may respond to being surrounded by happy memories. That was the happiest day of my life.” He placed his arms around me to join mine on the frame. “I just didn’t think that it might not be one for him.” As I turned to face him, I realised how close we were. One gentle slip and our lips would touch. Each exhale was felt on the others face. “There’s something. Have we met before?”

What was I doing?!

I retreated back, freeing myself from his arms. I had to leave. Find Eames and get out of here.

“I am so sorry, but I have to go—I just—I--.” I barely even finished a sentence as I ran out, back to the office. I threw my hair in front of my face as if that would help me now. Eames, Eames, EAMES!

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*Robert’s pov*

I ran back to catch her before she left. I was unsuccessful so I asked Browning. She’d left so quickly I’d never even gotten her name. But I knew I needed it.

“That intern, what’s her name?” I asked my godfather.

“I don’t know, why? Where did you just go off to?” He responded.

“I’ve had to be numb to a lot in my life, but just then I felt something.” I would see that girl again if it’s the last thing I do. "Something real."

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*your pov*

Eames and I were safely in our rental car, driving back to the warehouse. Eames seemed pleased at his progress and thankfully hadn’t noticed my absence.

“I have Browning down to a T and I think he is going to be the key. If we can somehow get Robert’s own projection of Browning to—” As he prattled on, I struggled to quieten my breathing after my speedy getaway. All I could do was watch the world pass by my window, willing my mind to forget everything that just happened. How Cinderella of me.

“You, okay?” Eames looked over to me concerned.

“Yeah. I think the bad relationship with the father is the way in. Everything about that dynamic is so…broken.” I softly spoke.

“Nice. I like a good gap to sneak through.” I rolled my eyes at his childishness but also couldn’t help but laugh.

“He saw me.” I admitted.

The car came to a grinding halt. I sat cowering hearing Eames’ heavy sighs. “I’m sorry.” I managed to stumble out through my choked throat. Eames’ head hung low in his hands.

“Why?” he huffed out.

“I didn’t really have much control over it!” I argued back. This wasn’t a complete lie, in more ways than one. It had to happen. “Please don’t tell my dad, I can’t have him thinking I blew this whole case. Because I didn’t okay, because it’s fixable! You know that! Please you can help me fix it!” I was now begging Eames by scrambling at his coat to force him to look into my apologetic eyes.

“I thought you were better than that.” He spat.

“So did I.” I slumped back in my seat. A minute of silence passed. We both just stewed in it.

“I won’t tell your dad.” I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding on to. “But-“ I gave him my entire focus. “You mustn’t get distracted. Promise?” He held his pinkie out to me. I giggled remembering fondly.

“I promise.” I finished, linking my pinkie with his and then we both kissed our thumbs together whilst making a corresponding sound.

We drove off once more. Eames satisfied in the promise he’d made me make. I was terrified that I would break it.

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a/n - they've finally met!!

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer

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riddledem0n · 8 months

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They're about to destroy the Kens Patriarchy on a whole different level

#fanart #barbie #barbie movie #barbie fanart #oppenheimer #barbenheimer #barbieheimer #oppenheimer fanart #robert j oppenheimer #movie #margot robbie #cillian murphy #barbenheimer fanart #barbie x oppenheimer

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coppertophomegurl · 10 months

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1 ticket for Oppenheimer please / 1 ticket for Barbie please

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pinkinku · 5 months

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Barbenheimer

pairing: barbie x oppenheimer

description: Oppenheimer wakes up in Barbie's bed.

word count: 2,3k words

no warnings apply

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

There was a blinding burst of light and painful, agonizing fire, searing through his entire being. Then—darkness. Immeasureble lengths of it.

Oppenheimer woke up with a start in a bed. The blinding light was still here, forcing him to blink furiously. Although no pain, no fire—quite the opposite. And the bed he was in—it was surprisingly soft, too soft even, he felt like he was drowning in the mattress that dipped into itself from his weight. He looked around, feeling his sweat-soaked back go cold. The place he was in—he couldn‘t imagine it, there wasn‘t space for that much color in his imagination. No, color wasn‘t the right term as the room was all pink. He had never seen anything like it before.

Oppenheimer sat up in the bed, trying desperately to remember what happened. He was making a bomb, a bomb of such capacity that could destroy the entire world, leaving nothing but ashes behind. It wasn‘t finished, not yet, many improvements had to be made, but he had lots of hopes. That bomb – a mash of wondrous chemistry and accurate physics, had to end the war and make America the greatest nation in the history of nations. It also had to be Oppenheimer‘s opus magnum. He frowned. Something didn‘t work out. Apparently. Something was not right. One of the trials failed. He remembered the explosion, him in a safehouse, hidden by thick walls of lead that had to protect him. But it didn‘t. He saw the burst coming his way—

And then. Now. He was here.

In this ridiculously huge pink room lying in this ridiculously soft bed, wearing this ridiculous—what was he wearing? A soft pinkish shirt that clung miserably to his muscled chest.

He frowned again, and tried to gather some sense in his body.

“Oh, you’re finally awake!” he heard a high-pitched over-the-top voice say.

And there she was—a woman. This was a woman’s room, naturally. But she wasn’t just any woman—the most beautiful one he had ever seen. All blonde hair, blue eyes, impeccable skin and wide smiles. She was truly genuinely happy that he was awake and wasn’t trying to hide it. Oppenheimer wondered when the last time was someone smiled at him like that – a long, long time ago.

He groaned in pain when the attempt to move out of this position in bed failed and a bolt of pain tore through his temples. She was wearing pink, for god’s sake. It was all too much for him—too much pink.

The blonde blue-eyed woman in pink moved closer to him, putting the flowers she was carrying with him on his bedside table.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Oppenheimer’s frown deepened. “Who are you,” he demanded.

“I’m Barbie. I’m an actress, but you might already know, I have gained quite a lot of international success even in Europe.” Her teeth were white as pearls, and he was getting more annoyed with every second that passed, with every word she spoke, with every aching sensation in his uncooperative body.

“Where am I,” he asked.

“In—my home?”

“And where is that.”

“Malibu, California,” she said, fully not understanding what horrible situation he was in.

He was so far from home.

“How did I get here.” He chopped his questions as facts, though there was nothing factual about them – he felt as if he was doing Sisyphus’ work for him.

Barbie now leaned away from him like she was taken aback by his brass behavior. Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Look, sir, you literally were drowning in my pool, I found you there naked. I dressed you in my ex-boyfriend’s Ken’s shirt, it seems to fit you fine, and don’t worry, I did not gawk at you, I’m not like that. Look, I don’t know what you were doing or how you got there, all I know is that if I hadn’t saved you, you would’ve been dead by now. Besides, during the last three days you’ve been waking up, then losing your consciousness again, and we’ve been having this conversation thrice, but you always claim you have no memory that we’ve talked of this.”

Oppenheimer blinked. He did not remember waking up before, but he was not going to tell her that.

“Wait, did you say I was here for three days?” he rushed to ask. He jumped up in bed, feeling his bones rattle and his blood sing in his ear, but this time he ignored it. “What time is it?”

Barbie reached out her hand and put it on his shoulder, trying to contain him; it wasn’t hard – he had no strength left in him to do anything.

“Whoa, maybe you should slow down a bit,” she advised him. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but you look really… rough. Just… don’t worry, okay? You can relax and stay here as long as you need to until you fully recover. This house is mostly empty anyways, besides me. And for the time,” she looked down at a small pink gadget with a screen in her hand. She pushed a button and the screen lit up, showing the numbers. Oppenheimer’s eyes widened, “it’s eleven past eleven! Angel numbers!” she exclaimed, looking back at him. “You must be lucky, mister… What’s your name?”

“Julius. Oppenheimer,” he answered her reluctantly.

Barbie’s eyebrows drew together.

“Wait a minute… Oppenheimer… Oppenheimer… This name sounds familiar…” she kept mumbling. He groaned. Realization hit her eyes. “I know! That’s a film title! A film that’s going to be released the same day as the film I star in! my film is called Barbie, and it’s a biopic about my life, well, lives…” she chuckled. “Wait, are you Oppenheimer, as in, you play him?”

“No, I don’t play him. I am him,” he sneered.

Barbie seemed to be thinking. “I’m pretty sure Oppenheimer is the man who created the atomic bomb. No idea why you’d want to be him, but that’s not possible – he died some fifty years ago.”

Oppenheimer’s insides turned cold. He looked around frantically once more, then his gaze settled on Barbie.

He swallowed. “What—year is it?” he asked, for the first time asked quietly.

Barbie’s eyes filled with worry. “It’s 2023,” she told him.

That didn’t make sense, so he simply ignored the date. This woman must be clinically insane, so he’ll just pretend to agree with her. It was 1944, and nothing will convince him otherwise.

(Some conversation with this mad lady later, he was convinced.)

He closed his eyes, clutching the last moments of his last memory before passing out as if it could give him all the answers—but it only forced him to ask more.

The bomb exploded, that one thing was certain. And the rest—

He didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “Did—the Apocalypse happened? Did the world end?” Did I destroy everyone and everything?

Barbie seemed deep in thought once again, and that made him worry more. However, she was still so upbeat about all of this.

“Well, you might say that the world ended if you consider all that happened in the last few years – the Covid pandemic, the war between Russia and Ukraine, the disastrous economic crisis that followed afterwards, Iran’s predatory legislations regarding women – then yes, the Apocalypse did happen, and now we’re living in the remains of what was left behind,” she finished, her face turning somewhat grim. Which annoyed Oppenheimer even more. She was of no help for him at all. “Our films – yours and mine – might bring some joy for people – well, not yours, perhaps. Maybe a distraction from these awful times.”

He was beginning to lose patience. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I already told you, I’m not an actor, I’m not in any film, I’m not playing Oppenheimer—”

“Then what were you doing in my pool?” she asked coolly.

“I… I don’t know.”

Barbie smiled conspiratorially. “I know why. You wanted to celebrate the success of Barbenheimer and came here to finally meet me!” Seeing the horrified look she clarified, “Barbenheimer – that’s what fans call it. It’s a whole meme crashing through the internet these past few weeks.”

Oppenheimer had no idea what Covid or meme or internet was, but he felt the need to make this woman see the truth.

“Listen, Barbie,” he addressed her, catching her attention. “My name is Julius Robert Oppenheimer. I am the real him. I live in Germany. I have no idea how I got here.”

She watched him for a moment. “Fine, I’ll just Google you, and then you’ll see.” She looked down at the little gadget in her hand and started tapping the screen furiously with her fingers, so fast his concussed brain couldn’t follow. She finally stopped and turned the screen to him. “See? It’s not you. You’re a lot more handsome, I must say. Oppenheimer is… well, he just is.”

There was his full name, a black-and-white photo – that definitely wasn’t him – and two dates. April 22, 1904 – February 18, 1967. The text below claimed that he was a physicist that tried to create an atomic bomb – and failed.

He had no words left in his mouth – or his brain. He only stared at Barbie who continued her surfing. “Now, let’s check the actor playing Oppenheimer.” A few seconds later she frowned in confusion. The man on her screen was not the same as the man in her bed. She looked up at him without smiling.

“Sir, you must be very confused,” she said finally. He was, he was very confused, he had no idea what was going on, and this strange, beautiful creature was not helping. “I should probably take you to a hospital, the doctors could definitely help you more than I can—”

His hand shot up in the air and landed on her thigh, stopping whatever thought train she was developing. “No!” he shouted. “Don’t. No hospitals. No doctors. Please.”

Her eyes softened, although she still seemed very worried. “Alright, alright. I won’t do anything against your will. Just… lie here, okay? You need to get your strength back. I’ll bring you something filling.”

With that, Barbie stood up and left the room, her floral perfume still lingering in the air. With that, Oppenheimer leaned back to rest against the many pillows on the bed more comfortably. With that, he was slowly giving into whatever was happening to him – he didn’t understand it, he couldn’t grasp his situation, he might not be sane, but he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

Barbie came back with a pink drink in her hand – so much pink! – that looked like milkshake. She reached it out for him, and he sipped it, savoring the sweet taste.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a smoothie. A fruit cocktail of sorts. I made it from strawberries and added some protein powder. Delicious, isn’t it?”

He hummed his agreement, sipping some more. A comfy bed, a spacious room and a beautiful woman. Ignoring all the pink, he could get used to this.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks – but it also wrapped around him like a cozy blanket.

“I’m in Heaven,” he said quietly. “I died and I got into Heaven. I didn’t even believe in the Afterlife, and here I am.”

Barbie smiled at him fondly. “Oh, I’m glad you think my Dreamhouse is Heaven – I do work pretty hard to make it feel like this.”

Oppenheimer looked at her, seeing her truly for the first time. Maybe this wasn’t Afterlife – perhaps it was a Life After Life. He was given a second chance.

“You said you’re an actress,” he said.

Barbie nodded. “I mostly play romance, fantasy or fairytale leads in films that mostly focus on women’s empowerment as well as embracing femininity. I love my job, but I’ve been playing sixteen-year-olds for seventeen years—seventeen!” She laughed, but it sounded strained. “I’m thirty-three and I believe I should play adult roles now – that’s why I thought playing the main character in a film about myself might be great fun. However, my life isn’t very interesting, apparently, so most of that is made up – the usual Hollywood pop-film with a clear beginning, middle, climax and ending. That’s not how it is in real life, though… Here it’s just… So much nothing… You know?” She looked at him, searching his eyes.

Oppenheimer knew it better than anyone. He nodded. He felt this way too, even before he got here. And now, knowing that his whole life’s work turned into a big loud nothing – well, it was devastating to say the least.

This whole strange time-traveling pink-soaked transportation between life and death was merely an afterthought now.

“I was here in the Dreamhouse for the past week. It’s a beautiful home, but it’s so big and empty,” Barbie continued. “I was so bored all by myself, and then—then I found you in my pool. And caring for you, nursing you back to health seemed to give me… purpose. I felt like I was actually doing something meaningful, helping another human being. I’ve missed this feeling a lot.”

Oppenheimer watched her for a moment when she went silent, and he didn’t say anything for a while. It was hard for him to force out what came from his lips next.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do next,” Oppenheimer admitted. “I doubt my home is still where I left it – God knows I’m not all there. I have nowhere to go. And I might be… no one.”

Barbie blue eyes lit up like the sky in the summer as if no one of a man was exactly who she needed.

“Would you, maybe, like to, I don’t know, stay here?” she asked somewhat shyly.

He could get used to her blushing.

The End

#fanfiction #barbie #oppenheimer #barbenheimer #barbie movie #barbie 2023 #greta gerwig #margot robbie #christopher nolan #cillian murphy #oppenheimer 2023 #oppenbarbie #barbie x oppenheimer #fanfic #ao3

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rebelscumlena · 9 months

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When Death Calls

Pairing: Barbie x J Robert Oppenheimer; Barbenheimer

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Who better to be her partner for the rest of eternity than the man about to set the world on fire?

A/N: My fingers slipped.. multiple times.. whoops.. This was written before seeing either movie, so as of now it doesn’t follow the plot for either movie so no actual spoilers. This was honestly just a plot bunny that burrowed way too deep for myself and @javier-djarin. Specifically some musings on what if Barbenheimer had some HadesxPersephone vibes. Slight warning for some dark humour.. I couldn’t help myself and I blame it on the existentialism. Enjoy!

P.S. if you like this kind of writing, check out @javier-djarin for some bomb-ass fics (pun absolutely intended). She’s the real mastermind behind the genius <3

Nights in the desert were supposed to be cold, Robert thought to himself. Even in the middle of summer, it should've been cooler hours after the sun had set. Yet he found himself wiping sweat from his brow every few minutes. It probably didn't help that the bunker he was in was occupied by about five other men, the combined nervous energy adding to the stuffiness of the close quarters.

"We're ready for countdown when you are, Oppenheimer," someone stated, bringing Robert's attention away from his musings.

"Goggles on, gentlemen. Start countdown," Robert responded. Immediately, a siren rang out to alert everyone outside of the bunker that the countdown was beginning. Robert and the other men in the bunker slipped on their goggles, manning their stations. Robert was the only one at the window, waiting with anticipation to see if this test would be the winner.

Another young gentleman began counting out loud. With each descending number, Robert felt the hairs on his body stand on edge. This was it.

The countdown finished. The pulley some hundreds of yards away from them released the test bomb. And within a matter of seconds, it hit the ground.

The light of the explosion danced in front of Robert's eyes. Even with the distance, Robert could make out the brightness of the fireball that alerted everyone that the bomb had been detonated. He watched in fascination as a shape slowly formed, the pressure starting to push up and resemble a mushroom head. Robert nearly found himself saying how beautiful it was. Meanwhile, a knot in his stomach reminded him the cost of creating something like this. Was this how God felt when he was creating humans?

Time seemed to standstill as Robert lived in this moment, before he would have to hear the test results and determine if another bomb needed to be made or if they had done the unthinkable. He eventually closed his eyes to ease his retinas of the bright light the bomb had given off, and take a moment to compose himself.

"I never thought I'd see the day," came a feminine voice from behind him.

Robert's eyes snapped open and he spun, finding a seventh occupant tucked in at the back of the bunker. From the voice and legs, he could tell it was a woman. She was dressed in a duster jacket with a wide brim hat covering her face. Robert removed his goggles, hoping he'd get a better look at this intruder. The duster jacket was a beige colour, while underneath he noticed her dress was a bright pink. And despite still not having the best look at her face, he could see some blonde hair falling around her shoulders.

"You're not allowed to be here," Robert warned, looking to anyone else to gauge their reactions. Yet he noticed that everyone else in the bunker was frozen, still as statues.

"I'm allowed to be anywhere, hence the job," the woman retorted, removing herself from the wall to walk forward. Her pink heels matched the dress she was wearing, and as she stepped into the light, Robert could make out pink lipstick that was formed in a friendly smile.

"You're unauthorized personnel. You need to leave," Robert tried again, his brain working a mile a second trying to figure out who she was and how she got into the bunker undetected.

"But I want to see it for myself," the woman responded, finally getting close enough to him. Robert readied himself, wondering what her next move would be. Would she attack? Did she just want to talk? None of the above, Robert found out. Instead, she bypassed him to peer out the window.

"Your eyes-"

"My eyes are fine. I've seen worse," she replied wistfully.

Robert took another glance at the men around him, still finding them frozen in their various positions. Was this a game? His gaze then moved to the woman, still looking out the window. She certainly wasn't apart of the science team; he would've remembered if they had hired a woman like her. She couldn't be a journalist; no way a journalist would be able to get past all of their security. So perhaps she was part of the government? But not in those heels...

"Who are you? And who do you work for?" Robert whispered.

The woman finally turned to him, that friendly smile returning. It was neither menacing nor innocent, but knowing.

"I'm Barbie," she stated, holding her hand out to him. Robert hesitated before reaching forward to grasp her hand. It was cool, and he found himself letting out a small breath of contentment at feeling something that wasn't the sweltering heat surrounding him.

"As for your second question, honestly it's such a long story and we don't have the time. But just know that I've been watching your for some time, and with the success of this," she said, waving a hand towards the window, "I think I'm right in picking you as my partner."

"Partner?" Robert had to laugh. Who was this lady? And then he paused. "Wait, success? How do you know the bomb is a success?"

Barbie gave him that smile again, "You just know these things after a while. But yes, I've been doing this job by myself for some time. And it gets awful lonely, so I've been considering a partner. And you're it."

"What job?"

"Being Death."

Robert was stunned silent, his brain doing everything in it's power to process everything this woman was saying. It had to be a joke. And yet taking another look around the bunker and the fact alone of this Barbie woman standing in front of him, he told himself this was no joke.

"You want me to help you be Death?"

"Nobody better for the job than the man who's about to set the world on fire," Barbie stated matter-of-factly, beginning to walk past him.

Robert was quick, reaching out to grip her bicep and stop her. Blue met blue as they stared at each other, one with coolness and curiosity while the other held fear and disbelief.

"What do you mean 'set the world on fire'?" Robert hissed through gritted teeth. "One country doesn't constitute the whole world."

Barbie just smiled, placing a gentle hand over top of his, her pink nail polish looking so out of place and yet giving him some form of comfort. "You don't build a weapon like that bomb out there, and expect it to be used once. Your little experiment has consequences, one that will resonate throughout history."

"You can't know that," Robert scoffed in disbelief. "We're trying to end a war! We have no other choice!"

"You humans," Barbie giggled, slowly peeling his fingers away from her. When she was free, she squeezed his hand. "Don't think too much about this. I'll come back when the time is right, and you'll give me your answer then. But until then, try to enjoy life."

Robert was left watching as Barbie started to walk away, her heels sounding so loud in the quiet bunker. She walked towards the back wall, and slowly disappeared into the shadows. Robert continued to stare before being acutely aware of movement and sound. He glanced around to see that the men were moving once again, working on their machines. He turned to look back out the window, seeing the fireball had dissipated.

"Success," whispered one man. Everyone turned to him, and the young man looked to all his colleagues with wide, unbelieving eyes. "Success."

💅😎✨🔥

Robert had never been this content in all his life. He was seated at a bench that he usually occupied while he was a student at Harvard, cigarette in hand. It was right outside of the science building, and had a nice view of the campus. He would come to relax after a long lecture, sometimes work on homework or sometimes just take a moment to himself. But he never remembered being this content anytime he was sat on the bench. Something always seemed to be occupying his mind. But not today...

The sound of heels caught his attention, and he turned to see a woman dressed in a pink gingham dress, pink heels, and her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. She had a warm smile on her face, and a familiar knowing look in her eyes.

"Barbie," Robert breathed.

"May I join you?" she asked, nodding to the bench. He nodded, scooting over so she could sit down next to him. Their eyes met once more, blue clashing with blue.

"So, is the time finally right?" Robert asked.

"Just about, though we're cutting it real close," Barbie responded, adjusting herself so she could see Robert properly. "Did the rest of your life turn out to be enjoyable?"

Robert chuckled, turning away from Barbie to look back out at the campus. "It's complicated."

"Humans," Barbie chuckled.

Robert turned back to her, mirroring her position so he could take her in. "Were you ever human once?"

Barbie hummed, playing with the skirt of her dress. "Not exactly. But I've had some human experiences, as weird as that sounds."

"Extremely weird," he joked with her, earning a chuckle.

"It's another long story, which we can definitely unpack depending on your answer," Barbie said, giving Robert a hopeful look.

Robert took a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke away from the blonde as he took a second to think. "Am I dead?"

"Not yet. You're in a coma, which would explain this," Barbie stated, gesturing to the scene around them. "Your subconscious took you somewhere comforting, which I get. This place is peaceful."

Robert hummed in agreement. "You said back in New Mexico that there was no one better for the job than the man who was going to set the world on fire. So is Death just a job for murderers?"

"No," Barbie replied, brushing a leaf off the brim of Robert's hat. "Our job is all about maintaining a balance. Nobody can live forever, that's just not how the world works. Everyone dies one day, so we just make sure that happens. Whether it's by natural causes after a life well-lived, by a complete accident, or even by man's hubris."

"Like a war," Robert supplied, to which Barbie nodded.

"I picked you because you understand the implications of death. You understand how this all works. It's not glamourous, but it needs to be done. The universe requires balance, and we provide that. We have no choice."

Robert smirked, recalling the time when he tried to justify himself by yelling the same thing to her so long ago.

"Touché. So how did someone like you get the job?"

Barbie fixed him with a wistful smile. "It's part of that long story of mine. Any other questions?"

Robert paused, looking up to the sky before meeting her eyes once more. "So then which religion got it right? Where do people go when they die?"

This got Barbie to laugh, pushing his shoulder in a playful way. "You're gonna fit right in."

"I haven't agreed to the job, though," Robert reminded her, putting out his cigarette.

"Yes you have, Mr. Oppenheimer," Barbie countered, standing up and brushing off her dress. She then turned to face Robert, hands on her hips as she fixed him with a megawatt smile. "You thought about my offer every day of your life. You decided years ago that when I came back, you would say yes."

Robert returned her smile with a more reserved one, adjusting his hat as he stood. "So I'm assuming omniscience is a perk to the job?"

"After a year of good behaviour," Barbie joked, reaching up to adjust his tie. Blue met blue once more. "But I do actually need you to verbally agree to this."

Robert paused, staring deep into Barbie's eyes before he spoke. "I accept."

Not a moment later, the aging and cancer riddled body of J Robert Oppenheimer took one last breath before going still, and slowly growing cold.

💅😎✨🔥

Nova Scotia was balmy during the summer. Robert had never been up to Nova Scotia when he was alive, but found it was a pleasant place. He stood on a sidewalk looking out into St. John's Harbour and further away the Atlantic, slowly savouring a cigarette. It was certainly better than being stuck in a bunker in the middle of summer in the New Mexico desert.

"I found coffee," came an excited voice from behind him. He turned to see Barbie dressed in a light pink jumpsuit, looking both stylish and comfortable. Meanwhile, Robert was still sporting his suit, tie, and hat. Barbie had mentioned she could help him update his style if he wanted, but then would tell him he looked dashing just as he was. A vintage man, she had said. It caused Robert to blush, and so he stuck with his trademark look.

"That stuff's addicting," Robert stated, eyeing the iced coffee that Barbie eagerly took a gulp from.

"Says the man who died from throat cancer," she retorted, taking the cigarette and flicking it down onto the asphalt before stubbing it out with her sandal.

Robert chuckled before looking back out to the water.

"They're well into their descent," Barbie said, checking a watch on her wrist. "We've got a little time."

"Man's hubris," Robert murmured.

"Indeed, Mr. Oppenheimer," Barbie responded, taking another sip of her iced coffee before holding it out to Robert. He took the drink, taking a sip for himself. He could see why Barbie liked these drinks so much.

He wordlessly handed the drink back to her, not missing the shit eating grin she had on her face at knowing he enjoyed the drink. He also didn't miss the little electric feeling he got when their fingers brushed in passing the cup, the same feeling he got every time they made contact.

It was odd being partners with someone like Barbie. She was nothing like Kitty or any of the other women he had known in passing. Then again, Barbie was completely unique and one of a kind. She was constantly bubbly and cheerful, but if Robert caught her eye at the right time, he sometimes found an emptiness. It was very rare, but Robert knew it was there. And he only knew because Barbie had once said she saw the same look in his eyes at times.

I guess being Death does that to a person, he had mused to himself so long ago.

But they still maintained their individuality. Barbie with her colourful outfits and cheery disposition, and Robert with his beige suit and melancholy look. They were day and night, and yet they had a bond that was unbreakable. Sharing looks, touches, whispers, and mannerisms that no living soul would ever know. He never thought he'd get used to any of it. Yet Barbie had managed to find her way deep into every part of his being. He'd set the world on fire for her if she asked, and that knowledge made Robert extremely content.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he felt Barbie slip her arm around his, and he looked to see her eyes gazing deep into his. After a moment, she gave him a smile before moving in to plant a kiss on the corner of his lips. "We should get going," she murmured.

Robert nodded, returning her smile. He then looked to see the coffee cup in her hand had been crushed, the plastic crevices showing deep white marks from the pressure that had been inflicted on it as coffee dripped off her manicured hand.

"Let's go, Barbie," he replied before leading her forward and into the ocean.

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