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infinitegalahad · 6 months
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F1 Academy Awareness Survey
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Hello everyone! For one of my university classes I am creating a newspaper publication about the emergence of F1 Academy and the women who make the series possible. As a part of my research, I would really love to gather some fan opinions and experience regarding the series and women's motorsports as a whole. If you have time, please consider filling this survey out and reblogging it so it can reach as many people as possible! Thank you so much in advanced for your time, it's a huge help! Can't wait to share the final project with you guys.
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infinitegalahad · 7 months
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Reblog if reading someone else’s fanfiction has helped you get through a hard day
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infinitegalahad · 7 months
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GUYS! hi hello!!! so here’s some fun facts; i’m driving down to my college tmrw (technically today) and it’s a solid five hour drive. i’m going to be fairly quite bored, so i’m opening up my head canon and blurb requests for cillian murphy characters! you can request any role that’s played by him, and i’ll write a head canon or blurb!
*cough cough* TOMMY SHELBY *cough cough*
lol i have NO idea where that came from oops! as always, my asks are wide open (like my legs for cillian murphy) and send your headcanons/blurb requests in. if you wish! also jumpscare:
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infinitegalahad · 7 months
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AO3 Etiquette
It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:
Kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished - you kudos.
If you liked it, you should comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.
No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it. Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity. Don't ruin that for them.
Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.
There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.
For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.
Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLANTONIC, like friendship or family.
Nothing is banned. This is an implicit rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.
People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.
Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.
Avoid deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - orphan it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to you anymore.
This is a creative fanfiction archive. No essays on your insights or theories please. There are other places for that.
I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.
I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.
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infinitegalahad · 7 months
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Hello! Just wanna ask, how to access your masterlist? I've been dying to access it but it seems I cannot click anything and it directs me to google docs. Thank you very much.
hi yes! it’s currently at work in progress at the moment. i’m trying to add all of my stories onto there. it’ll up as soon as possible, but if you want to look at other more of the works, look for “carrie’s writing” in my search and you’ll find some of my stuff! albiet very old and cringey haha. hope this helps! ❤️
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infinitegalahad · 7 months
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AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - EPILOGUE
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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. 
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infinitegalahad · 7 months
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robert brault / elizabitchtaylor / marguerite duras / edvard munch / kazuo ishiguro / edgar allan poe / lisa kleypas / frederic william burton / plato / emery allen
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infinitegalahad · 7 months
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AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 5 (FINALE)
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Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: With a promise to keep in touch after Los Alamos, the two of you exchanged letters regularly. You shared your experiences, thoughts, and plans for the future. It was comforting to maintain that connection despite the physical distance between you two. And then the letters stopped. Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: N/A Notes: and with that, the story is ended! for the most part, the epilogue is coming very soon. as i always say, thank you so much for the support. waking up and seeing the reblogs, likes, and comments brings a smile to my face. it's gotten me back into writing, and i don't know hat i'd do without y'all's support. so once again, thank you ALL for being you're amazing selves and i love you all very dearly. this story has a special place in my heart. i gave oppie and the reader the best ending i could, and i try to continue that in the epilogue. this one is short, so most of it is up for the imagination. the epilogue with leaving a lot of room as well, so get ready for that very soon. if you've been here since the beginning, thank you, and i hope this is a good happy ending :]
Taglist: @forgottenpeakywriter @queenshelby @chloriine36 @kodzuvk @amanda08319 Taglist | Masterlist
As the project at Los Alamos came to a close and the war finally ended, you found yourself at a crossroads.
You and Robert had naturally reconvened, once again turning serious, knowing that you wanted to continue your education and pursue further opportunities. Despite our strong connection, you believed you both needed to explore your paths.
With a promise to keep in touch after Los Alamos, the two of you exchanged letters regularly. You shared our experiences, thoughts, and plans for the future. It was comforting to maintain that connection despite the physical distance between us.
After living at home for too long, you decided to take a gap year and embark on a sailing adventure with your brothers in the Mediterranean. It was a chance to recharge, explore the world, and gain a new perspective on life. During that year, you occasionally received letters from Robert, updating me on his work and his struggles. He was going through a difficult phase, facing challenges and uncertainties.
While you understood that Robert was going through a rough patch, his emotional turmoil and busy schedule made it harder for him to maintain the same level of communication you had initially. Despite his love for you, he seemed to be withdrawing, perhaps out of a desire to shield me from his struggles. He often mentioned feeling like he had "hurt me enough," which you interpreted as his way of not wanting to burden you further.
Our relationship faced a significant strain during this period. I tried my best to be understanding and patient, giving him the space he seemed to need. However, it was clear that our paths were diverging, at least for the time being. You continued to pursue your education while he grappled with his own challenges.
Leaving behind the world of physics, you embraced a new chapter of my life by pursuing a Master’s in English at UVA. It was a drastic change from your previous field; you wanted to distance yourself. As you immersed yourself in your studies, news of Oppenheimer's security hearing reached you through various sources. His situation was a reminder of the complexities and challenges that can arise from your choices.
During this time, your correspondence dwindled, and I pondered the reasons behind it. Eventually, all of the letters stopped. You assumed Robert’s legal and personal troubles had taken precedence, making it difficult to maintain regular communication. It bothered you a little at first, but with your studies, you found yourself distracted. 
Groves reached out to you to testify at Oppenheimer's hearing. Weighing the pros and cons, you declined. It wasn't an easy choice, but you believed that your absence could offer a kind of distance that might be beneficial. Testifying could have complicated our strained connection, and you also saw no point or need to interact with the past. 
Eventually, you found yourself both connected and disconnected from the events surrounding Oppenheimer's hearings. While following the proceedings to some extent, your academic pursuits often took precedence. It was a balancing act between staying informed and maintaining your own academic progress.
Life has a way of moving forward, and as you worked toward your Doctoral degree, you built a new foundation for yourself. The hearings and the events surrounding them served as a reminder of the complex intersections between personal and professional lives, the consequences of one's actions, and the paths you each choose to take. 
You hadn’t heard from Hatomi since you graduated early from Berkeley. She’s found your number, and when you pick the home, she’s thrilled to hear your voice. She’s in Texas with her husband and newborn; congratulating you on graduating from UVA. Hatomi wants to come, and you’re happy to invite her for an escape. As you catch up, she mentions she’s bringing a surprise, but you don’t think much about it. 
As time flies, the day of your graduation is rather hot in early June. 
You never got to experience an actual graduation, so now was your time. The graduation perfectly fit UVA’s loud energy, the whooing, lots of alcohol, and an overall extension of the celebration. It’s boiling outside, and you are sweating in your dark cap and gown. Once you get your diploma, all you want to do is leave; but of course, Hatomi and your family make you stay for forced photos. Some of them are genuine, such as Hatomi hugging you crying and your brothers spraying you with champagne. They make you smile and laugh as if you were a child. 
Your parents are in conversation with other people when Hatomi drags your arm through the crowd. 
“There you are,” She mutters as she grabs your elbow and drags you to the crowd, “Robert! She’s right here.”
No. You force yourself to think it’s not what it actually is. There’s no way it can. Any minute you’d wake up and think that's some bizarre dream. 
But it’s not. 
The brown porkpie hat, an oversized suit hanging on his slender body, pipe, and bluest (and saddest) eyes you’ve ever seen are Robert, who stands right in front of you. 
His eyes widen, and so do yours. The two of you stare at each other in a state of happiness and shock. Hatomi checks her fake watch and says she has to leave, but she’ll find the two of you later, and in her words, most certainly with one another. She runs off, and you try to catch her before she leaves, but he’s gone with the wind. And for the first time in two years, you’re alone with Robert. 
“Congratulations,” Robert says with his hands on his hips. He wears a similar to suit to the one he wore on the first day of your Physics class at Berkeley, “I’m proud of all you’ve done, y/n.”
“Thank you,” You reply with a blush. You fiddle with your fingers as you come up with a response, “So, she invited you?”
“Yes, and no. I heard from some sources that you were down here, and well, I wanted to come and support you,” Robert admitted. He looked like he wanted to say something else, and so did you. 
“How have you been?” He casually asked, knowing that the response to that was lengthy. He was going to be, and both of you knew that. 
“That’s the question I should be asking you. Here, do you want to go somewhere more private?”
Right outside of the Rotunda on UVA’s campus is the more intimate place you can get. 
The grandeur of Thomas Jefferson's vision unfolds before you, a canvas where neoclassical elegance meets the lush embrace of the outdoors. While gardens bloom with nature's palette, from the elegance of the roses to the joyful vitality of wildflowers, the botanical companions of the Rotunda offer their form of inspiration. Trees stand as venerable witnesses, their branches swaying in the breeze as if whispering secrets only they have heard.
You and Robert sit by the water fountain, each smoking a cigarette from Robert’s container. As you sit side by side, the idea of grabbing his hand strikes you. You don’t grab it, but you notice that Robert looks older; more tired. 
“They humiliated you,” You mention, taking a blow of your cigarette. 
Robert looks over and holds back a long sigh. 
“I was a fool to think that the weapon would end all wars. It didn’t just end all war; but created more,” There’s regret and sadness to his voice. His eyes are still blue, but they lack the fiery spark you once saw. 
“I told them that the more they knew, the worse it would become–”
“And then they threw you to the wolves. You knew, everyone knew,” You alluded towards the scientists on the Los Alamos project. Not all of them.
As you watched and read about the trial, some of the very scientists Robert had worked with had turned against him; accusing him of being a communist and using the bomb for a Soviet advantage. All of the claims were false, only used as a way to bring Robert down for wanting to step back from creating another Holocaust. Strauus humiliated him, causing Robert to lose both his security clearance and his public image. Not That you ever liked Strauss that much anyways. 
When he contacted you, offering to pay a sum of money to testify against Robert and make it seem as if he took advantage of you and infected you with “red commy blood”. Seeing that word, you tore the letter up and threw it into the trash. You’re glad you did. 
Robert reaches for another cigarette and ensures his inhale is as long as his exhale. Robert puts his hands on the fountain’s concrete, an inch away from yours. It’s just like old times; he doesn’t say it, but he wants it. 
“Well, they voted against Strauss. If it had not been for Hill, I would have possibly gone to jail, or worse,” Robert remarked, “I heard you were one of the scientists who signed a petition to defend. Is that true?”
Robert thinks that you saved him, in which maybe, you did. You thought about the rejection to support him through the Trial was a topic for another conversation, so you simply told him that other scienets from the Los Alamos project reached out for your support, and you gladly helped. Robert thanked you, and for the first time, he genuinely smiled that day. He looks down at you with his gray, shaking hand reaching closer. 
“You look beautiful,” Robert remarks, his index finger covering your pinky. 
His gray eyes, vibrant with emotion, gaze down at you. His hand, which trembles slightly, inches closer, reaching out as if to bridge the distance between you both. The vulnerability of his gesture resonates, and as his shaking hand comes to rest, his index finger covers your pinky with a delicate touch. The gesture is small yet intimate, a connection that transcends words and speaks volumes of your bond.
His comment surprises you, and a soft blush spreads across your cheeks like you were once eighteen, when in fact you are on the cusp of your eighteenth birthday. His candid compliment, his words like a gentle caress, evokes an adolescent flutter within you. You meet his gaze with a smile, your palm instinctively opening so that his warm hand can envelop yours. His touch is a balm against the uncertainties that linger, offering a sense of comfort and belonging that grounds you.
Laughter escapes your lips as you respond, your words light and teasing. "Thank you. And, I must say, you don't look too bad for an old man." The playful banter between you is a testament to the ease with which you converse, the shared moments of vulnerability building a bridge between the past and the present. In his presence, you find yourself rediscovering a sense of youthfulness, as if the weight of time and age fades away, leaving only the unfiltered connection that pulses between you.
The exchange is more than words; it affirms the unspoken understanding and attraction that weaves between your interactions. In this moment, the age gap that might have once seemed significant melts away, leaving only the genuine connection and shared emotions that unite you and Robert.
“What are you doing after this?”
“After this?”
“No, sweetling. After Virgina.” 
You look at him and let out a dry chuckle, shrugging your shoulders. Your leg slightly shakes. You really don’t know. 
Robert senses that, and contemplates his words for a second before speaking, all while holding your hand. 
“Y/n. Come with me to Princeton.”
He turns his body towards you. A smile grows bigger on your face, and as you laugh, he grabs his hands and holds them close to his chest. 
“I’m being serious. There’s a school you can teach English at if you wish when I’m at Princeton. I have a house there as well; we could both live quite comfortably,” Robert began to promise, “If that is what you wish. I promise I won’t be silent again, y/n.”
The weight of Robert's promise hangs in the air, each word a promise that dances on the precipice of your heart. His proposition carries both allure and uncertainty, a tantalizing glimpse into a future that might hold comfort and connection. The notion of teaching English at a school and living in a house by his side in Princeton sounds like a dream woven from the fabric of possibilities.
His hands, warm and steady, envelop yours in a gesture that feels both grounding and beseeching. His eyes, a reflection of his earnestness, search your face with an intensity that speaks of the depth of his commitment. His words carry a fervent sincerity, a vow to never repeat the silence that once separated you.
Yet, a tempest of emotions swirls within you, a whirlwind that tugs you in conflicting directions. The prospect he offers is appealing, a chance to share a life alongside him in a world of comfort and security. But the echo of past uncertainties lingers, a reminder that trust is a delicate thread that can easily fray.
His plea for your trust echoes through your mind, and you find yourself looking down, grappling with your own feelings and insecurities. The question of what you truly want, not just in this moment but in life, looms over you like a specter. 
The struggle is both internal and profound, a reflection of the complexities that color your relationship with Robert. You love him, but could you truly love him?
As you seek an answer within the depths of your thoughts, his gaze remains unwavering, a testament to his patience and his desire for your understanding. And then, a sentence that breaks the silence. 
"Marry me, then."
The words hang in the air like a suspended breath, each syllable laden with a weight that carries the potential to reshape your future. His proposal is unexpected and profound, a leap of faith that surpasses promises and stakes a claim on shared tomorrows. His intense and unwavering gaze meets yours as he waits for your response, his vulnerability laid bare.
In this moment, the path forward seems uncertain yet beckoning, a crossroads that holds the possibility of embracing love and commitment despite the hesitations that have held you back. The decision is yours to make, a choice that could rewrite the narrative of your connection with Robert, weaving together the threads of trust, uncertainty, and the profound desire to be known and cherished.
You’re silent, with your mouth in a o shape, thinking of what you should do. You think for a good while and look down, before looking right back at Robert. You’re not going to say yes–but you’re also not going to say no. 
“There’s a courthouse down the block. I think it’s open until five on Saturdays.”
Robert is breathless and looks down in disbelief, before turning to look back at you. A spark of realization ignites within you two, the reality of the situation crystallizing in your mind. The choices before you are clear, and a surge of determination surges through you. Time is of the essence, and the chance to seize the future you both desire hangs in the balance.
“What’s the time?”
Through his tight and reassuring hold, you glance at your watch. 
“4:35 pm.”
Robert smiles at you, and you smile back. 
“Then we best should hurry, my bride.”
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infinitegalahad · 7 months
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I hope Oppie and the reader end up together 😭 I am engrossed
TY SM ILY U KEEP ME WRITING❤️❤️‼️
as someone who just finished the last chapter and is wiring the epilogue, i can confirm nor deny…
…however i can give you a terrible meme from my pinterest😍😍😍😇😘😘😍
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infinitegalahad · 7 months
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Hello! So I just discover your account and your amazing writing!!! But unfortunately I can't open the link for taglist and masterlist, I honestly don't know why:(
I was just wondering would you add me into you tag list for all of the roles that Cillian Murphy did?
Love your writing btw<3
(English is my second language so I apologize in advance)
of course you can! i’ll add you right now😇❤️
and thank you! german’s my first, so no worries. thank you so much! and here’s some cillian for yah xx
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infinitegalahad · 8 months
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Nothing to fear
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summary | jonathans girlfriend accidentally takes some fear toxin, while finding out that he is the scarecrow (i suck at summaries, lol)
pairing | jonathan crane x innocent!fem!reader!
word count | 1.2k
genre | fluff with some angst!
requested? | yes! thank you so much for this request @kpopgirlbtssvt i had so much fun writing it! 
warnings! | the reader gets drugged, but I think that’s it! Please let me know if there is anything that I am missing! And, this is not really proofread yet, lol
​​author’s note! | my requests are open for these characters! please send in your requests for blurbs, headcanons, or imagines! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!
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Jonathan has been at work the entire day, irritated and stressed beyond belief. The only thing getting him through it? Knowing that his beautiful girl was home waiting for him. She called him earlier to let him know that she was going to his place after her last class, he insisted that she just rest after, but she kept saying something about a surprise she had planned. He knew there was no talking her out of it, so he decided that it would be better to just look forward to anything she had planned. 
When he met her, he could have sworn she wasn’t real. She had accidentally bumped into him while she was getting her coffee one day, and knocked his coffee to the ground. She immediately started apologizing, and asking what his order was so she could get him a new one. And, no matter how many times he told her it was fine, and to not worry about it (mostly so he could just hurry on to work) she wouldn’t stop. He finally caved and gave her his order, and she immediately ran and ordered him a new one. She gave it to him with an intoxicating smile on her face while still apologizing. After the encounter Jonathan had to dig deep into his mind and make sure he hadn’t just imagined it. Just to make sure, he went back to the same coffee shop the next morning, and saw her sitting there at a table, her pale pink nails tapping away at her computer, while sipping her drink.  As he was about to leave, she looked up at him, and invited him to sit with her. They sat and talked until the coffee shop was closing up. 
Jonathan unlocked his door and walked into his home, while the smell of a freshly cooked meal immediately hit him in the face. He realized what the surprise must have been. She had mentioned last week how she wished they had enough time to spend a proper meal with each other. He had something planned for the weekend, but she must have beat him to it.  As he walked into the kitchen he saw the lights dimmed, candles lit, and the amazing meal set out on the table. The only thing missing? His angel was nowhere to be seen. He suddenly became very aware of his surroundings as he heard small whimpers coming from the bathroom beyond the shut door. 
“Sweetheart?” He called out, as he knocked on the door. When all he got back was a scared whimper he decided that he couldn’t wait for a response, and walked into the bathroom only to be met with a sight that broke his heart. 
His girlfriend trembling in the corner with tears streaming down her face, the nice dress she had on now all wrinkled up. Her once done up hair had now been messed up from what he imagined would have been her fingers pulling at it. She had her head down on her knees while mumbling something to herself that he couldn’t make out. He didn’t understand what was going on until he noticed the now knocked over, and empty bottle of his fear toxin on the sink. 
“Angel?” He said calmly as he bent to her level, slowly taking her face in his hands as he tried to make eye contact with her eyes darting everywhere but at him. 
“J-Johnny? There was a-” She stopped as she started to sob again. He pulled her into his chest and held her until she started to calm down. 
Once she calmed down enough, he helped her into the shower to calm her, and make sure she knew that whatever it was she saw was fake, but what she was feeling was real. After he helped her get dried off, dressed, and wrapped in a blanket on the couch, he brought her a warm cup of tea, and sat opposite of her, waiting for her to talk first. 
“What was that?” She quietly mumbled out, while taking a sip of her tea, staring straight ahead. 
“It was a fear toxin, something I use on patients.” He tells her slowly in fear of her freaking out, but she stays surprisingly calm, while just staring straight ahead, so he continued. “I give it to them so they can face their fears, and see that it is all just in their heads”
“And the mask?” She asked, finally looking at him, her eyes puffy, and red from all the crying she had done. “I saw it in the case, I went to put it away, but when I picked it up, it was unlocked and everything fell out. It’s the mask of that man they show on the news, is that you Jonathan?” 
He stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out how to answer this without her freaking out. “Yes, it’s me, and I completely understand if that makes you want to end this.” 
Saying that to her broke his heart, he wanted her to stay, but he knew that if this was too much for her, he needed to let her leave. She was the only person in this world that he could never even dream of hurting, no matter how much it would hurt him. 
“Jonathan, I’m not completely sure what it is that you do, but I do know that you make me feel safer, and happier than any other man in this city could. I’m not sure that I'm ready to know exactly what it is you do, but I’m not ready for this to end.” She has to him in almost a whisper. 
“Thank you, Sweetheart. I’ll explain everything when you’re ready.” He says while pulling her down to lay on his chest, while wrapping the blanket around them both. As he kisses her head he notices that she has already fallen asleep, probably worn out from the fear toxin. Jonathan eventually falls asleep with her on the couch, with her all wrapped up in his arms. 
The next morning, Jonthan woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes, and his girlfriend was no longer on his chest. He walks into the kitchen to see her, dancing around the kitchen while fixing breakfast. She jumped a little as he walked up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. 
  “Shhhh Sweetheart, it’s just me.” He mumbles into her neck, while leaving small kisses. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I was hungry.” She said to him with a smile, while making them both a plate. 
“Hey Jonathan?” She says while sitting across from him as they ate. “Am I going to get hurt?” she asked him somewhat quietly.
Jonathan made his way to kneel down next to her chair. “Never, that is the last thing that would happen, angel. You have nothing to fear.” He said, looking at her with complete genuineness.  
“Okay” She said to him with a nod, and a smile. Jonathan stood up, and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. As they pulled away smiling, Jonathan picked her up while she gave a small squeal. He smiled down at her only to see that she was smiling back at him as he carried her to his bedroom. While they were smiling at each other, Jonathan knew that this would all end up all right.
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infinitegalahad · 8 months
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AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 5
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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. 
176 notes · View notes
infinitegalahad · 8 months
Text
AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 4
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Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Indentifying! Reader
Summary: The implication was subtle, yet the weight was felt. Your shoulder tensed as you pursed your lips, dropping your plate into the sink. You knew, and so did Robert. It was blatant.
Word Count: 4.1k
Warnings: Sorta poorly written smut (i'm a virgin guys it's very obvious my expiernece is well..smut) and praise kink and a slight virginity/purity kink.
Notes: Hardest part of posting this? The writing, naw. Finding the perfect hot gif of the father of the atomic bomb? Yah! Oh boy...folks, it's here! Baby's first actual smut. I know I sound like a broken record, but seriously y;all, your support is absolutely amazing thank you so much for it! You keep me not just writing, but happy and afloat. Today has been nuts, so I was glad I could get this out. It's my first smut, so sorry if it's not good. This is the last part of the first part of the series, Ch.5 will move more into Los Almos, the bomb, and Kitty and Jean. Trouble will start brewing in paradise, the drama is en route! As you can tell, cliffhangers are my kind of thing #imunwell
Taglist: @forgottenpeakywriter @queenshelby @kodzuvk
Taglist | Masterlist
Dinner is a mostly silent affair. 
Minus the clattering of cutlery and soft puffs of cigarette smoke, you and Robert are silent. You notice the furtive gazes from Robert that scan your body. Crossing your legs and crumpling your napkin in your lap, you hope not to be noticed yet, at the same time, be noticed since the attention makes you feel aroused. 
You take up your plate, and as you are about to wash it, you feel that Robert is going to speak, which he does. 
“Your gift is upstairs in the bedroom if you wish to want it.” 
The implication was subtle, yet the weight was felt. Your shoulder tensed as you pursed your lips, dropping your plate into the sink. 
You knew, and so did he. It was blatant. 
Once you finish washing your hands, you walk by Robert, refusing to look down at him. You want to look, but the heavy sensation in your lower area skips whenever you see him. You can feel his intense stare on your back as you walk by. 
“I’ll be in the living room,” He says as if it’s a reminder. 
You stop by the kitchen door and turn to look back, but you resist the burning desire. 
The house is small enough to navigate, and you find yourself in Robert’s bedroom. It’s mundane and straightforward; a bed, a nightstand with books, and an ashtray, a dresser with cigarette boxes. Minus these menial things, there’s the pink satin bag from earlier on the edge of his bed. You walk over and sit down, grabbing the bag and taking out the paper. 
It revealed a box, in which, in your arousal, you nearly tore up. Once you placed the box and bag down on the ground, you gently removed the surprise; lingerie. 
It wasn’t really a surprise, but you pretended it to be such for the anticipation of it. The material is silk, and you make sure to be extremely careful with the material. The Lingerie is a satin navy two piece; a a sheer bralettle that would define your nipples and lacey knickers that could looked like they would barley cover your bum. Your thumb plays with the soft satin as your face goes red, knowing what will come between you and Robert. 
Sliding into the soft material, you check yourself out in the material. It’s the most skin you have ever shown to a man. The shorts cling to your thighs, and the bralette accentuates your nipples. A close look and your privates were revealed, covered by a sheer sheet of satin. You loosen your hair and fluff in, anxiously rubbing your hands together; you didn’t want to keep for long, knowing that Robert was just as aroused as you were. 
You slowly ascend down the stairs to the living room, illuminated by a fire that Robert lit while you were changing. A mesmerizing dance of flickering flames unfolds within the fireplace, casting a warm, comforting glow that envelops the room. You spot Robert on the couch, and he is reading the preface to one of the Greek myths you picked out in Sausalito. 
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you step into the living room, the captivating ambiance of the dancing flames drawing you in like a moth to a gentle fire. The soft light casts an enchanting aura, accentuating the delicate features of the room and adding a touch of mystique to the moment. Your gaze finds Robert seated on the couch, engrossed on the preface of the Greek myth you had chosen in Sausalito. The flicker of firelight dances across his features, casting intriguing shadows that play upon his countenance.
As you take a cautious step forward, the sound of a closing book reaches your ears, causing a shiver to traverse your spine. The air feels charged with palpable energy as you wrap your arms around yourself, an instinctual gesture that adds to the allure of the scene you're entering.
Your steps are slow, deliberate, every movement conveying a mix of vulnerability and intent. Each footfall on the soft carpet is a rhythm that mirrors the steady beat of your heart, a drumroll leading up to the moment of connection. The distance between you and Robert seems to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of his magnetic pull.
As you draw nearer, the firelight and shadows play upon your form, casting alluring patterns upon your skin. His gaze roams your body, a smoldering intensity that ignites a spark of longing within you. The anticipation becomes a tangible force, binding you both in a shared unspoken understanding. The room seems to hold its breath, the air thick with a mixture of desire and the timeless allure of the moment.
Robert's attention is drawn away from the pages as he puts out his cigarette, acknowledging your presence with a glance that sends a ripple of warmth through your veins. His gaze meets yours, and the intensity within his eyes is like a current that pulls you closer, your heart pounding in response. The weight of his gaze is electrifying, and for a brief moment, he seems to hold his breath in awe, sharing the same desire that lingers in the air.
 "My beauty," Robert breathed, his gaze tracing the contours of your form with an intensity that sends a flutter through your chest. His voice, a velvety timbre that seems to wrap around the very atmosphere, spills forth in a cascade of words that hold the power to mesmerize. 
With a tender touch that speaks volumes, he gently removes your arms and puts them by your side, presenting your nearly nude body to him. His fingers envelop your skin in a caress that ignites a spark of warmth. As he holds your arms, his touch is both a physical reassurance and a silent proclamation of his admiration.
"Your presence is just as I imagined," he continues, his voice a whispered promise that hangs in the air, "it's like a beacon that draws me in. Raw beauty in his most natural form."
His grasp tightens, in which you bite your lip too. Your hand rest on his chest, unable to form coherent thoughts, lost within a hazy gaze of arousal. 
“Oppie,” is all you manage with a soft breath equivalent to a moan, feeling like you could sink into his hold. 
Robert holds you and guides you to the couch. Your hand remains in his as he picks up one of the myths to examine it. 
“I began to read the preface of Hades and Persephone. I understand this one you were highly fond of,” Robert pronounced as he looked at you. For a brief second, his eyes once again captured your body, and he looked at you like you were an angel.
“Would you like to read this one?”
Gently smacking your lips together, you nod your head, “Yes. Quite frankly, I think it would best suit the current mood.”
Subtle communication is a form of love between you. Only you two can understand it. Despite its actual meaning not being viral, it echoes within the room between you two. 
Something flickers in Robert’s eyes as he sits down on the couch, bringing you to sit on his lap. Curling up on his side as you rest on his thigh, you grab the book as he snakes his hands around your stomach. He takes a long breath and throws back his head, savoring your smooth skin. The side of your thigh feels something move within his pelvic part. You were not experienced, but you knew that was an erection. The sheer thought of his made you both nervous and excited. It had hit you that this was no longer a fantasy; it was very much indeed a reality. 
You clear your throat and open the book, trying to distract from Robert’s not-so-private erection bumping into the outer part of your thigh. Robert lets out a long sigh and leans forward, his chin resting on your shoulder with his nose in your hair. As he sniffs your perfume, his hands draw those mindless patterns into your stomach, making you slightly shift your feet in excitement. 
“Read to me,” He purred into your hair. 
Biting your lip to contain a noise you were embarrassed to make, you open the book and begin reading with a slight stutter. 
“It was a beautiful day like all the others in this land, the sun shone brightly in the sky, the hills were lush and green, and flowers blossomed from the earth. The lovely young maiden, Persephone, frolicked with her friends upon the hillside, as her mother Demeter sat near by, and her father Zeus peered down from the sky above. Laughter could be heard in between the young girls' whispered secrets, as they gathered handfuls of purple crocuses, royal blue irises and sweet-smelling hyacinths. Persephone thought to bring some to her mother, but was soon distracted by a vision of the most enchanting flower she had ever seen. It was a narcissus, the exact flower her father hoped that she would find. As she reached down to pluck it from its resting place, her feet began to tremble and the earth was split in two. Life for Persephone would never be the same again.”
Robert’s breath hitches against your ear. With one hand you hold the book and the other resting onto of Roberts, stroking his palm. 
“From this gaping crevice in the ground emerged the awe-inspiring God of the Underworld, Hades, and before Persephone could even think to utter a word, she was whisked off her feet onto the God's golden chariot. As the crack of the whip upon his majestic horses brought her to her senses, she realized she was about to taken into the black depths from which he'd come. The thought of this brought terror to her heart, yet any screams of protest were soon lost within the darkness, as they descended quickly into the Underworld below.
“While Persephone's cries could not be heard above the ground, the pain in Demeter's heart quickly alerted her to the fact that something was terribly wrong. She searched high and low for her dear daughter, who had vanished from both the heavens and the earth. Consumed by depression over the loss of her child, she soon ceased to remember her worldly duties as Goddess of Grain and Growth. As she watched the plants wither and die all around her, she felt her own hopes begin to fade as well. At the same time, deep down in the realm of the dead, Hades hoped to explain his actions to the sweet Persephone. Professing his love, he told her of the plan her father helped deploy and begged her to stay and be his wife. Yet, Persephone longed for something more, the comforts of her mother's home and a view of the lush green grass and blue sky up above.”
Reading these words, a realization hits you. Something about this myth resonates not just with you, but with Robert. Hades and Persephone are death and regenration embodided. Is that what you and Robert are; death and life drawn together in your ever chaning world. The gifts, the flowers, the poemnegrates, the sweet nicknames, it was all to drag you in. At first you couldn’t bare accept. But now? You didn’t know if you agreed with your past self. 
“Yet it didn't take long for Demeter's happiness to be replaced with rage, as she recalled the disappearance of her daughter. She flew to the home of Zeus and demanded that Persephone be found at once. She also questioned every immortal she could find and eventually uncovered Zeus' plot. In an attempt to appease Demeter's growing anger, he dispatched a messenger to retrieve their daughter from the depths.”
“Upon his entry to the Underworld, the messenger Hermes was amazed at what he found. Instead of finding a frail and fearful Persephone, he found a radiant and striking Queen of the Dead. She had adjusted well to her new position, saying she had even found her calling. The Goddess was now in charge of greeting the new arrivals and helping them adapt to their new life. While she wished to see her mother up above, she was torn by her desire to remain Hades' wife.”
Your past thoughts and sudden releevations were proven by the text. Your breath shudders as you feel one of Robert’s hand inch up your chest, similar to last time. Instead of siquriming, you sink within his hold. Your hand topples his as you guide him to your breast, letting his hand protrude on your linergie to gently caress and grasp your breast. 
A moan escpaesd your lips as you lean back, feeling Robert squeeze your nipples. He calms his touch as he resorts to stroking the edge of your breast, letting you continue to the climax of the myth. 
“Hoping to comfort Persephone in her confusion, Hades came to his Queen's side. He gently kissed her forehead and urged her, "Do not fret, eat instead from this fruit I know you will like." As she pressed the red pomegranate seeds to her lips, she listened to his words. He told her he would miss her very much, but her duties as a daughter mattered too. So, she climbed into the chariot and bid her husband farewell, as Hermes sped them off to the middle realm of mother earth, the home of her devoted mother.
You saw the last two paragraphs of the myth, also seeing Robert’s hand make it’s way down your stomach to your short. Your hand guides him slowly and gently to your womanhood. 
“The flowers sang joyfully of her return, while her mother beamed with pride. Yet, the child that she had born and raised had changed while she was gone. She had grown into a goddess, one both beautiful and wise and the more that Demeter inquired about her experiences below, the more she came to worry that the life they knew was gone. She recalled a declaration Zeus had made from the heavens up above: in order for Persephone to return to the home and life she had known, the young goddess must be as pure as the day she left her mother's side. However, the ruby stain upon her lips spoke of the beauty's fate. Persephone had tasted of the fruit of life. It could not be erased.”
Robert buries his nose into your shoulder with his hand stopping at the edge of your pants. He hesitates, afraid to hurt you. But you know, and feel, that Robert would never do such a thing. You push his hand towards the waistband on your knickers, sliding Robert’s hand down your knickers and towards a place that no man was ever touched until now. 
“Even so, Zeus loved his daughter too much to send her back to Hades without the hope of returning to her mother's abode above. So, each spring Persephone comes back with the flowers that pave her way, to tell the story of rebirth, hope and harmony. And each fall when she leaves again for the Underworld below, her mother mourns and winter comes, while she waits for her return. Yet, for Persephone there is no remorse. She looks forward to the time she spends as Hades' Queen and wife, and to guiding those who have lost their way to the next phase of their life.”
You let out a sigh and threw the book down. It blocked your view of Robert’s hand down your navy knickers. You hold his arm and go red, goosebumps hovering over your skin with his electric touch. 
“Y/n, sweetling,” Robert coles into your ear. His fingers are like a ghost, hovering over the curls of your rapidly moistening vulva, waiting for your approval, “Speak to me. Tell me.” 
“Robert,” You arch your head back to plant a peck on his forehead, “Please.”
“It will hurt since it’s your first. If it does, please tell me,” Robert, in his most vulnerable state, begs you. 
You hum and bring your foreheads together, giving him the green light. “If it hurts, I rather it is with you, Robert. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”
Your words made Robert choke on his breath as his hand traveled his way through your curls, finding your vulva. He circles the area around your finger, seeing you stretch back, digging a hand into the side of his salt and pepper hair. Placing a kiss on your cheek, his finger enters your clitoris. 
Letting out a curse, you arch your back like a cat as you let out a noise you wouldn’t want anyone to hear but Robert. 
“You’re so tight,” Robert says into your hair. His finger moves around, causing the nerves from your vaginal wall to give goosebumps of joy. He smirks as his hand on your stomach brings you back closer to him. “You kept it all for me to unwrap. How sweet of you.
“More,” You breath as you softly grind his thigh. 
He hums and asks, “More?”
“More, please. Pretty please.” 
Your beg makes him chuckle as you feel another finger circling around your clitoris. 
“Another? Are you sure?” 
Another shockwave rides up your body, making you rapidly nod your head. The second finger circles your hole, but Robert doesn’t insert it yet. 
“Words, sweetling.”
“Yes, yes, please. Pleas-”
As the second finger enters your clitoris, you gasp and scrunch your toes and fingers, the ecstasy running through your veins. 
“Oppie,” You moan his name, which makes his erection move below you. He fingered you for the next few minutes, a gentle rhythm dancing inside you. It hurts initially, but the pain subsides as Robert’s fingers mold to your insides. A creamy substance leaks from your vagina, covering Roberts’ and. He eventually removes his pale hand covered by a pale substance. You take his hand and bring it to your face, admiring what is your reaction for your desire and love for Robert. 
“Can I?” You turn to Robert, looking at his cum over his fingers.
Robert’s breath hitches and he nods and leans back. He watches you suck on his finger, licking and inhaling the cum. He strokes your hair and leans back, soaking in the experience. Once you finish, he grabs your chin to admire you. Your faces and bodies are illuminated by the fire, which shows both of your burning desires for one another. 
“You are a beautiful creature, y/n,” He confesses, wiping a bit of cum from your lip, dragging your lip down.
“You’re handsome,” You reply to his compliment by giving one to him. Your hand goes to the collar of his shirt, signaling for him to undress so you can truly get down to business. 
The two of you help undress each other. As carefully as you put on the bralette and shorts, Robert slides them off and throws them onto the loveseat. You, too, help him undress; helping unbutton his shirt and unbuckle  his belt. He slides down his pants and underwear, revealing his throbbing erection. It was a suprie to you, for such a slender spectre-looking man, his cock was large; fluids running down the tip. He’s got a faint trail of hair that goes up to his stomach, which makes your womanhood feel like a lush paradise. 
Robert moves you in front of the far, far enough not to get burned but close enough to be warmed. He handles you with the delicacy of a china doll, resting your body on the carpet. Your arms fall behind you as his hand grabs one of yours, with the other resting on the indent of your waist. Robert climbs onto of you, sitting ontop of your area as he admires your body, a soft and genuine smile on his lips. 
“Look at you,” He said in awe, “You are more beautiful than in my dreams. I knew you would be. Your simply perfect.”
“There is no true perfect person, Robert.” You blush and softly giggle. 
“I’m afraid that is a lie, y/n. You are.” 
His erect cock rest on the inner part of your thigh, edging towards your vagina.
“Are you sure you want this?” Robert asks, his tone still loving but also serious. For the first time this night, he looks hesitant. Scared, even, “Are you sure you want this to be with someone such as me?”
To soothe Robert’s nerves, you bring a hand to cup the side of his cheek. It’s a small physical touch that you known drives Robert mad. He sighs and leans into your touch, closing his eyes as he basks in your sweet touch. 
“Of course, Robert. I want it to be you. I’ve wondered for so long of who it would be to do this. And Robert, well, it’s you. It’s always been you. I knew it when I first saw you. And now I want it more then ever. So Robert please, be the one to take me.” You gently confess.
He opens his eyes and covers your hand on his cheek. 
“I’ll feed you my seed, Persephone,” Robert purred, a tint of possession to his voice, “And then? You’ll be mine.”
His member neared your wet vagina. He heistated, awaiitng for your nod.
You never had nodded faster in your life; it felt like you were dependent on the touch of his cock. Robert made sure to give you the thing you were most craved and wanted; which was him.
He fucks you infront of the fire. At first, it hurts. He’s very gentle, whispering kind words as you cry in both pleasure and pain. He slowly grinds against you as as you bury your hands into his hair, digging your nails deep through his hair. Robert cooes into your ear, calling you his deity and his Persephone. As he hungirly humps against you all while holding your hand and saying sweet words of pet names and reassurance, it leaves you to think.
Through the humping, moans, and grunts, the myth you could barely read earlier comes to mind. In your story, your Persephone, and he’s Hades. Like how Hades took Persephone from her world, Robert snatched you from your crowd at Berkeley. Not that you felt satisfied within it, but he took you every Friday and weekend into his home and world, keeping you among him and spoiling and adoring you as a way for you to fall in love with him. You did fall for him, but a part of you hesitated. Robert was thirty five and you were freshly eighteen. The age dfiference and power imbalance was more then evident. 
But now, you were able to look past that. 
Like Hades had done to Persephone, he gave her the seed to keep her to him. 
Robert had done the same to you, his warm cum feeling inside of your aching stomach. 
 With a heavy exhale, Robert fell beside your, gathering you in his arms. He holds you close, and like it’s routine, return the favor and curl into him. 
Hatomi was right; the theory of social change perfectly applies to you. 
Time passes, and within that tie, you and Robert lay together nude in front of the fire. After cleaning you, he fetches one of your Greek Myths and a cigarette. The two of you share puffs from the cigarette as he reads the tale of Prometheus to you. Robert holds himself up with one arm, the other wrapped around your waist, his hand resting on your stomach. You stare into the fire, stroking his hand that rubs your stomach, listening to his velvety voice read the myth. 
“After the Olympian gods emerged victorious, Zeus tasked Prometheus and Epimetheus with creating humans and giving them unique qualities. Epimetheus, meaning "afterthought," began distributing various attributes among the animals, giving each species-specific traits to survive in the world. However, when it came to humans, he had given away all the positive qualities to animals, leaving humans vulnerable and defenseless,” Robert read the paper as he stroked your hair, “Prometheus to intervene. He stole fire from the gods and gave it to humanity, along with other gifts such as knowledge, craftsmanship, and agriculture. Fire symbolized not only warmth and light but also technological advancement and the ability to cook food, which was crucial for human development. Prometheus shaped humanity out of clay or mud–”
A piece of wood falls in the fire, and you curl your knees into your stomach. 
“–and Athena breathed life into his clay figures.” 
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infinitegalahad · 8 months
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THINGS WRITERS NEED TO HEAR
you are allowed to take a break. you don’t have to write if you don’t feel like it.
everyone has their own pace. it doesn’t matter if you writer one page or ten pages a day, you are still a writer.
your first draft is going to suck. every first draft or every book has sucked. i’ll get better and better as you edit. that’s what editing is for, making your work actually good.
experiment. try out new routines, new styles, new genres. it’ll never harm you. you’ll gain experience and become a better writer. you’ll understand what suits you and what doesn’t.
you don’t need publishing to be a writer. publishing is just an option but if you don’t want to you can just keep your writing to yourself.
if you write, then you’re a writer. no matter how much experience you have, what genre you write, if you are published or not. you are a writer.
everyone is different. everyone has a different style so find your own and rock it. search for inspiration but ultimately focus on what allows you to express your ideas in the best way possible.
you are doing great. no matter how productive you are, how much you’ve written, how fast you write. you are gonna achieve your goal and it’s gonna feel so good.
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infinitegalahad · 8 months
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the creative process:
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infinitegalahad · 8 months
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infinitegalahad · 8 months
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AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 3
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Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: Your relationship with Robert grows stronger and much more intimate. While he is a man of experience, you are not. However, Robert has no issue in helping you explore. Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: First-time touches prove to be a little overwhelming for the reader in the beginning but are 100% addressed and consensual. This is a minor piece of the story. Notes: This chapter and the next one were planned as one big chunk, but I separated them. Since A, I haven't written the other half, and B, I loveeee cliffhangers! Also, once again, thank you so much for the support! It keeps me going. And don't worry, the next chapter will be here veryyyyyy soon! It should hopefully be worth the wait :D Taglist | Masterlist
Fall in the West is far different from what it is in the Northeast. 
There’s a breeze but not a chill in the air. The sun is still warm, yet not as warm as it is in the summer months, which is enough for sweater weather to commence. You thanked your mother for shipping out some of your fall wear. While you knew you had the money to buy new clothes, you saw no need as most of them were hand-me-downs from your older sister, who was seven years older. The two of you differed in fashion, and you thought some of the sweaters made you look older.
But Robert–sometimes Oppie–said the sweaters made you look kept. In fact, he said he liked them because he could see the curve of your “gorgeous, nymphet” figure. He said that to you as you sat on his knee while a hand slowly ran down the side of your hip and down onto your thigh, inches from the hem of your skirt. 
Maybe they didn’t look old. 
Hatomi had been used to these falls, which were usually for you. One Fall afternoon, your classes had finished, and you two wanted to study in a space outside the library and outdoors. The Hearst Mining Circle was the perfect place to do so. So you both grabbed your books and a blanket to sit on the grass and study, basking in the outdoors. Hatomi read one of her American History textbooks as you copied down equations from your Physics textbooks. The edge of the page had been crumpled previously from one of your sessions with Robert. He had snuck behind you, pressing small pecks from the side of your neck down as you explained the existence of Black Holes. 
The sheer thought made you grab the side of your neck and nurse it. You turned to see Hatomi; her nose stuck in her textbook. Turning over, you watched people walk down the paved walkway, ranging from socializing students, faculty children, and busy teachers. Eyeing for a distraction, you scaled the walkway, and somehow, in looking for what you did not want to think about, you found Robert. 
Robert stood outside the Physics building, smoking a cigarette, chatting and congregating with other science professors. As he chatted with his fellow science professors, his laughter resonated through the air like a melody, inviting those nearby to share in the camaraderie. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened when he laughed, adding a touch of charm to his rugged handsomeness. The wind blew away the bottom of his jacket, showing the white Oxford shirt that clung to his skin. 
A cigarette dangled casually from his fingers, wisps of smoke curling into the air around him, adding an almost cinematic quality to the scene. The way he held the cigarette, an effortless gesture, enhanced his allure as if the act was imbued with intrigue. The tendrils of smoke danced around him, almost like an extension of his presence, creating an enigmatic halo that further piqued your fascination.
You found yourself unable to tear your gaze away, captivated by the sight of him. His hands moved gracefully as he spoke, emphasizing his words with subtle gestures that only added to the magnetism he emanated. The ruggedness of his appearance was balanced by a gentleness in his eyes, a combination that held your attention like a moth drawn to a flame. His handsome features, framed by the sunlight and the curls of smoke, seemed to encompass a world of intellect, charm, and mystery. It was a fleeting moment, an unguarded glimpse into his world, yet it left an indelible impression long after he had moved on.
“Y/n, this is what I’m talking about,” Hatomi explained as she plopped herself next to you, pointing to some page in her textbook. While you listened, you found it hard to tear your eyes off your handsome and regal professor.
“The Theory of Social Change says that everything and everyone, in different times, all fall into the same universe and repeat themselves within four cycles; The High", "The Awakening", "The Unraveling" and "The Crisis."
Since Hatomi told you about the Theory of Social Change, you began to ponder if you and Robert, with whatever you had, were prime examples of this. 
Your cycle continued, and minus the newfound acknowledged mutual pining, nothing had changed. You went to his house, skimmed the idea of Physics if needed, ate dinner, and then kissed and cuddled until the late hours of the night. Most of your “meetings'' ended up finishing on Robert’s couch. Other than the multiple cigarette buds on the ashtray and empty martini glasses on the coffee table, you would end up entangled on top of Robert. His hands would rest on your back or hair, gently stroking both. Sometimes, he’d be smoking a cigarette; other times, he’d worship you like a goddess as he decorated your body in soft kisses. 
These small instances of affection did not continue to go away. You enjoyed them just as much as Robert did. It took you time to adjust to seeing him outside of his house and inside of the academic setting. After he had kissed you, which was your first kiss ever, locking eyes with him was difficult—seeing him as just your Physics Professor instead of a poetic, lustful older man who confessed that he used the meetings to help you and get to know you more. 
In a scene infused with an air of both familiarity and affection, Robert's voice carries across the room like a gentle melody, beckoning the reader with a tender summons. 
"Sweetling," he murmurs, the endearment a whispered promise of comfort and connection. His arms unfold, a silent invitation that spans the distance between them, transforming the couch into a sanctuary of shared moments.
Your heart flutters at his call. A sense of intimacy envelops as you waltz over and ease into the space beside Robert, nestling against his side as if drawn by the irresistible force of his presence.
As they settle into the embrace of the couch, a soft sigh escapes the reader's lips, a sigh that resonates with the comfort of being in his proximity. Like a pair of puzzle pieces finding their perfect fit, your bodies mold together seamlessly. The warmth of his frame envelops her, an encompassing cocoon that soothes away the troubles of the world beyond.
A hand is extended, its touch a promise of connection that transcends the physical realm. Your fingers interlace with effortless synchrony, your hand finding its place upon Robert's chest. Beneath your palm, the rhythmic beat of his heart reverberates like a melody of shared emotions. His hand finds yours, enveloping it in a gentle squeeze—a wordless affirmation of your bond.
You can make out the sound of Tchaikovsky from Robert’s record player as his hand moves from your back to your stomach. His hand sneaks under your cardigan, drawing mindless shapes onto your stomach. 
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Robert questions. 
You look up to see Robert is looking forward and not as you. Seeing this, you rest your head back on his shoulder. 
“Nothing much besides sleeping. Why ask?”
In the quiet intimacy of the moment, Robert's voice carries a weight of sincerity that resonates through the air. With a touch both firm and tender, his hand rests upon your stomach, the sensation of his touch causing a soft flutter within. The thin cotton of your shirt yields to the gentle pressure of his fingers, creating a sensation that dances between comfort and connection.
"I want to take you out to Sausalito," he declares, his words wrapped in a sincerity that leaves no room for doubt, “Go for lunch and then shop for you.”
The prospect he offers feels like an invitation into a world where his presence is a guiding star, a promise of shared experiences and cherished memories. As his words unfurl, a sense of belonging blossoms in the space between you.
The subtle shift in his touch carries a hint of possessiveness, a claim that evokes both a giggle and a flush of color across your cheeks. Your connection with him deepens, your heart dancing to a melody that only the two of you share. His pride, wrapped around his words like a velvet ribbon, tugs at the strings of your own emotions.
“Oppie,” A playful slap lands upon his arm, a mock protest to his proposition, “People will see you; they’ll see us. They will know.” 
The underlying sentiment is clear - the world's gaze could fall upon the two of you, and the reality of being seen together in public sets your cheeks aflame with a delightful shyness. But in his presence, the hesitations and external considerations seem to hold less weight than the simple joy of being with him.
As you giggle and tease, his grip becomes a deliberate caress, his thumb tracing tender circles against your skin. The fabric of your shirt becomes a barrier that barely impedes the sensation of his touch, and the way he scrunches the fabric only seems to amplify the intimacy of the moment. His voice, a timbre laced with newfound intensity, murmurs, "I want you by my side. I want to show you, y/n."
The unspoken allure between you deepens as his desire becomes palpable. The words he utters hold a double meaning, a claim that encompasses both the invitation to accompany him and the electrifying spark that courses between you. His possessive undertone, magnetic and primal, sends a thrill down your spine, igniting a fire that flares within the confines of your connection.
The blush on your cheeks takes on a new hue, a mixture of shyness and the intoxicating realization that you're affecting him in this very moment. You feel his gaze upon you, an ardent flame that strips away pretenses and bares your vulnerabilities. The sensation of his fingers against your skin becomes an echo of a deeper connection, a touch that ignites a firestorm of desire in both of you.
"Oppie," you cooed, this time with a subtle hint of breathlessness. His name, a whispered plea, seems to fan the flames of his desire. The weight of his possessiveness, interwoven with the age gap and a burgeoning passion, adds a layer of complexity to the bond you share. The unapologetic way he wants you, the unfiltered truth behind his words, sends a jolt of heat through your veins.
Robert bends his head to catch your lips as he begins to suck at them passionately. A noise escapes as his lips engulf yours. His hand travels down your stomach and stops at the end of your shirt. His lean fingers crawl under your skirt and up to your lower waist, where his cool fingers touch the soft stomach of your skin. Much to your dismay, a soft moan escapes your mouth. Robert hums to himself as he tastes you, his hand slowly caressing your hip. His hands are cold, yet warmth feeds onto your skin.   
His hand progressively moves up and now rests under your boob. His thumb draws circles, edging towards the line under your bra. No man had ever gotten this close, let alone touched you like this. Robert was the first and only to do so. His touch was gentle and possessive, and as much as he pleased you, it was all too much at once. Everything began to overwhelm you; Robert, the age difference, the power dynamic, and its imbalance all hit like a train. 
“Robert,” You cried as your legs uncomfortably shifted. 
Immediately, he removed his hand from under your skirt. You crawled away from his side and breathed heavily, running a hand through your hair. Your legs began to shake, and you could somewhat contain the sudden rush of anxiety. 
“Y/n?” Robert called your name, worry evident in his voice. He dared not move over, but he held out his hand, “Sweetling, did I hurt you?”
As he rubbed his temples, he stumbled on his words, “Forgive me, please. I lost myself there. I forgot that you are less experienced than I am.”
Your arms wrap around your body as you look at Robert, who looks like a wounded animal. The thought of hurting you devastated Robert, and it was evident in his body language. 
“Robert, I’m okay,” You assure him as you stand with your arms still wrapped around you. At a loss for words, you shake your head and head to the kitchen to gather your coat and bag. 
“I’m just rather tired. It’s been a long week. I can assure you it’s nothing with you. I’ve just been,” As you put your coat on and grab your bag to exit the kitchen, you see Robert standing in the doorway. He stares at you as his hands smoothen down the material on his pants. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he holds himself back, not knowing if it’s the right thing to say or do.
“Conflicted. That’s all.” 
You fastly walk by him, brushing against his side. He turns to watch you walk to the doors. Just as your hand grabs the knob, Robert speaks. 
“Sausalito. Not San Francisco or Berkeley, Sausalito. I’ll take you there tomorrow in the morning. We can spend the morning there if you wish to be seen with me.” 
While your hand remains on the knob, you look back at Robert, sinking into your coat collar to hide your blush. 
“I do wish to be seen with you. I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Oppie.”
“Goodnight, sweetling.” 
That very next morning, Oppie keeps to his promise. You arrive at his house, and he’s in his Cadillac, awaiting your arrival. You smile and climb in, greeted by a peck to the cheek. Oppenheimer’s smoking another cigarette, and while he looks happy to see you, he still seems bothered by last night. You tell him to forget about it, but he shakes his head, saying he should know better. 
He brings this up again as you finish driving over the Richmond Bridge, close to Sausalito.
“A man my age, especially with someone as young as you, should know to control himself,” Robert muttered, keeping his eyes on the road, “But since you’re so, well, beautiful, I just..” 
“Robert, I insist it’s no issue-”
“But it was. You yelped. I never wish to see you afraid of me, y/n.”
“I yelped because I was shocked, that is all.”
“You wanted me to stop, but I didn’t,” He admitted, “I was not thinking with my head, y/n.”
Although he didn’t explicitly state the phrase after, it was enough for you to piece it together. Robert knew how inexperienced you were. Just a month ago, you had your first kiss with a man a little over a decade older than you, who so lovingly happened to be your Physics professor. Your mind replayed the events of last night. You had enjoyed his touch, but it was too much at once. While Robert was gentle, he moved too fast for you, and you didn’t have the courage to say it to him. The last thing you wanted to do was make Robert angry at you, and as much as you wanted to say this, you didn’t know if it was the right time, let alone how to phrase it. 
Last night, you lay in bed, running a hand under your shirt, pretending it was Robert’s hand. The imagination was a powerful force but could only do so much. 
As Robert parked the car, you sighed and looked forward, fidgeting with your hands. 
“I understand, Robert. But let me say that, honestly, I enjoyed your touch. It was a lot, but it brought me pleasure, and–” You quickly find a way to say what you want, “--I do want to explore this later. But for now, I want to put this behind us. You said you wanted to dine and shop for me, which I would love to do now. Can we do that, please?”
Robert looked over with a conflicted look. He looked takeback, trying to hide a smile of pleasure, relief, and joy. There was a hint of lust in his eyes as well. But after all, that was for later. 
“Thank you for that, y/n. And yes, we can,” Robert said with relief. 
Robert opened the car door and helped you out of the Cadillac, his touch lingering longer than it usually did. 
After you two got lunch at a restaurant that Robert said his friend recommended, some French Cafe on the water, he asked if you had certain stores you wanted to go to. You shrugged your shoulders, saying you were more than happy to follow him where he took you. 
The two of you walked close side by side. In the crowd of ongoing bypassers, questions raced within your mind. What if someone knew you were from Berkeley, seeing you waltz along with your professor? Robert looked much older than you, and you barely looked like an adult. Older men had always been a fantasy of yours, but when that was turned into a reality, it was both a curse and a blessing. All of the issues that you had to avoid in your fantasy, you were forced to confront in real life. Hopefully, not soon or ever. 
Robert reached to grab your hand and held it close, bringing you slightly closer to him. 
“Settle down,” Robert squeezed your hand, “No one knows but you and me.” 
You gulped and contained a sigh as you leaned into Robert. Looking for a distraction, you looked at some of the store windows. Some of the stuff was too bright or expensive, but you did catch a beautiful black purse. It was a Chanel Black leather crossbody with a simple, elegant golden chain. You had seen some of the girls at Berkeley with them. For what reason they needed it, you did not know, but you simply admired it. You made a note to ask for your parents for Christmas. 
Robert saw you eye-shopping and stopped in his tracks. He leaned down to whisper in your ear if you wanted that purse. You shook your head, saying your purse was perfectly fine, ignoring that you had complained to him a week ago that your books were breaking the bottom of your bag. 
Robert ignored you and bought the purse, despite your pleas for him not to. 
“Thank you,” You politely grumble, crossing your arms like a petulant child. You can hide how red your cheeks are from him, “Robert, I did not need that. You know what.”
“I do know that you did need a new bag,” Robert pointed out. He smiled to himself, a small boost to his ego, “It made you smile. I should also find you a new outfit to match the bag. Something elegant and dark.”
“Where would I be carrying that expensive bag? To class?”
“To events with me, along with the expensive clothes and perfumes I plan to decorate you in,” Robert cooed to you, “Fine things for a fine girl.” 
You blushed and leaned into his shoulder, sighing and shaking your head. “Well, I suppose I should look down so you don’t buy me anything else.”
“I’m afraid that won’t work, dear. You have a tendency to blush at the slightest of things.”
At that moment, you couldn’t tell if you wanted to smack or kiss Robert in his stupidly, hauntingly handsome face. 
After some more shopping, Robert dropped you off at a bookstore. He said he needed to run a quick errand but told you to pick out whatever you wanted from the store. He said he would be back and pick out some books for you and, if you wish, to pick one for him. With a kiss on your head, he promised not to be gone for long, his hand lingering on the side of your arm. 
You had been trying to get Robert into Greek mythology for the longest time. He introduced you to Hinduism through the Bhagavad Gita. He could talk about it for hours on end as he felt you. Feeling the need to return the favor, all while being held by Robert, you picked out a few of your favorite classics; Prometheus and Athena, Cupid and Psyche, and Hades and Persephone. There were plenty more you could have chosen, a part of you knowing Robert would buy every book you wanted. 
Just as you tried to reach for one, a hand behind you reached for it and grabbed it. You looked behind and saw Oppenheimer examine the cover of the book. 
“The Odyssey,” Robert read out the cover and turned the book, “Have you read it?”
“Twice. Once in school, and once with my father,” You replied, watching Robert open the book. As he skimmed, you leaned on his arm to read along in the book. Robert took notice and subtly leaned into you, “I think you’d like it.”
“If you like it, I’ll love it.”
You hummed and smiled to yourself, looking down at the pink bag Robert held. Quirking an eyebrow, you asked, “What exactly did you buy me?”
“You’ll see once we get home,” Robert promised, his hand finding the way to the small of your back. He pulled you close to his side. You looked up at him and smiled at his sheepish grin, which hid something devilish. 
“Before you get to enjoy your gift, let me buy your books and the Iliad.”
“And then what?”
Robert’s hand rests on your hips as he brings his lips to your ear, slightly lighting you up to whisper into your ear.
“And then we can enjoy.” 
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