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weirdworldofwinnie · 9 months

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

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

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

Word Count: ~7, 213

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

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

April 1943

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe I can wait to eat after all."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Robert nodded, gesturing with his empty fork.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Any news I should know about, Feynman?"

The man paused, glancing to you warily.

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

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

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

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

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

"What the hell was that about?"

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

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

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

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

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

"It's more complicated than that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that what she told you too?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What if I join you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It'll do fine, darling."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's the plan."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I will always do my best."

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

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

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

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

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floralcyanidee · 9 months

Text

ɪ sᴇᴇ ғɪʀᴇ - ᴊ. ʀᴏʙᴇʀᴛ ᴏᴘᴘᴇɴʜᴇɪᴍᴇʀ

Cillian!Oppenheimer x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

request: scientist reader and Oppenheimer have sm sexual tension between them and trying to hide their feelings for each other cause they're colleagues but then when the Manhattan Project comes up and they both work on it together it just gets too much to handle. by @aporiasposts

disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction. cillian's representation of oppenheimer is also fictional to a degree. if you dislike this kind of fanfiction, please keep scrolling and do not interact with this post. otherwise, have a lovely day. ♥

warnings: smut, penetrative sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, multiple positions used, mutual pining, years of sexual tension

word count: 2090

author’s note: please read the disclaimer several times if you must before you decide to comment something snarky or send a dense anonymous ask. (: this is my first time writing smut for Robert so it was interesting!! I rather enjoyed it and I think I'm going to finish the other smut I was going to write for him. also, I changed the request details a little. reader is a historian/ political scientist of sorts instead of a scientist. I feel like there is a lot of scientist!reader fics out there and wanted to be a little different haha. I hope everyone enjoys!

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

Having a doctorate in history has led you to places you never thought possible. One of those places ended up being the University of California - Berkeley. You were given the opportunity to lecture there with some of the brightest minds in the country- one of them being physicist Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer. Your disciplines differed but had the same solid foundation of facts, evidence, and logic. Needing to see things to believe it for yourself was one thing the two of you had in common, which brought you together. You were interested in his lectures and as he was yours. Both of you have learned a lot from each other and have become good friends. However, there were times when you would interact, and it felt intense. You’d grade papers together in comfortable silence, sometimes stealing glances at one another. Whenever you caught Robert staring, you’d give him a small, knowing smile. When he caught you staring, he’d hold your gaze, which made you nervous.

You enjoyed attending Robert’s political discussions after class to see how passionate he was about current issues. Dr. Lawrence, your other beloved colleague, often warned you to avoid them, but you ignored him. The energy you’d feel toward Robert every time he’d rant about how every person deserves the freedom and the right to choose was electric. It was the very basis of your beliefs as a historian and a professor. The two of you would often go for a cigarette in the courtyard between classes to enjoy the fresh air and discuss politics. Robert loved hearing your stance on things, especially since you knew your stuff about the history of politics and how things work with them. The tensions were high that day, and before you knew it, Robert leaned into you as you spoke. But before anything could happen, it was time for classes to resume. So you went your respective ways.

When you were contacted by the government to assist on a top-secret project, you were shocked. They needed your expertise in politics and history, as well as your reading and writing skills. You asked if Robert would be involved due to his talent in psychics, but you got no answer. You didn’t take long to learn of Dr. Lawrence’s involvement in the project, and you were ecstatic to have someone you knew tagging along. He was worried about Robert not being present for the Manhattan Project simply because of his mutual and close friends being communists. You insisted you’d speak to Robert about the matter, but Ernest objected. However, after a meeting about the Spanish Revolution that Robert had held, Ernest blew up on him. He mentioned there was a project and that Robert wasn’t allowed on it as long as he was sticking his nose in communist politics. So, Robert stopped the meetings, and sure enough, General Leslie Groves eventually poked his way into Robert’s office one afternoon to discuss the Project.

Now, the three of you were involved and had to leave Berkeley. Robert quickly assumed the position of Project leader and already had a location picked out for the Project headquarters. You had heard many stories of this location from him and demanded he take you to it before construction began. You and Robert left Berkeley and traveled to Los Alamos via horse, talking and laughing the whole time about your childhoods and times in school. You both decided to camp there overnight and enjoy the desert and its beautiful sky before dealing with the most significant project in human history. As you sat by the fire that night with Robert, you stared at the sky in wonder. Robert watched you with just as much wonder, enjoying seeing you smile. Because pretty soon, there wouldn’t be much to smile about.

By the time you had moved into Los Alamos and started getting to work, the tension between you and Robert was becoming impalpable. The camping trip solidified whatever was going on between you two- even if it was nothing at all as of right now. Robert ensured you were at every meeting so you could give your two cents if it was needed; you were the brains and the empathy of the project. Gen. Groves admired you for it because no matter how steep the project was getting, you never once panicked or got in over your head. He also admired how you managed to keep your hands off Robert despite how you looked at him. And one day, he mentioned it to you.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get out of here?” Gen. Groves asked you one day during a field test.

“Oh, uh,” you hadn’t given it much thought, “I’m not sure. Probably continue lecturing.”

“No one special in your life you want to be with?” Groves asked, a kind smile on his face.

“Not really,” you mumbled sadly, your eyes glanced over at Robert, “Not yet, anyway.”

“Maybe once all of this is over, you can pursue them,” Groves suggested knowingly, “We’re so close now. It won’t be long.”

You nodded, seeing that he knew who was on your mind just by how he studied you, “Maybe.”

After all the hard work and growing sexual tension over the tedious years at Los Alamos, the bubble separating you and Robert finally burst the morning of the Trinity Test. The test was a success, and Robert was basking in the afterglow. Everything from getting his hand shaken to being carried by the crowd of excited and ecstatic workers- it brought him some relief. There’s always sunshine before the rain.

You invited Robert over to your quaint house on the outskirts of Los Alamos for your nightly glass of wine, but this time it was heavier. It was more meaningful because you finally accomplished what you’d been working so hard for. When Robert sat next to you on the chaise next to the fireplace, his leg touched yours. The sexual energy was like a thick, wet blanket. You took large gulps of your wine as Robert’s eyes stared into yours, his glass pressed to his lips with slower sips.

“I can’t believe it’s all over,” you shook your head.

“Me either.”

“What do we do now? What’s life after this going to be like?”

“I’m not sure about that,” Robert had set his wine down on the floor, “But I’m sure about something else.”

“And what’s that?” you asked, polishing off your drink.

“You.”

You slowly sat back up after putting your empty glass on the floor by your feet, “Me?”

“Yes,” Robert paused, “Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted you in ways I can’t explain. And I can usually explain anything.”

You chuckled at that, nodding in agreement, “That you can.”

Robert leaned in, and your smile faltered. His hand reached up to touch your cheek gently, his thumb pushing some of your hair out of the way. Your eyes fluttered shut as you waited with bated breath for Robert to finally, finally kiss you. It had been years of waiting now. And the second his lips pressed to yours, all that time seemed to drift away. There was an explosion in your chest at the feeling of Robert pressing against you on the chaise, pushing you down onto its cushions. His coat and tie have long since been discarded, so all you have to do is worry at the buttons of his shirt with your shaking fingers. Eventually, you get the shirt opened and off his slender frame as it hovered over you. Robert let his skillful tongue slip past your lips with ease, exploring every centimeter of your mouth. How you had longed for this moment.

“Need you, Robert,” you pulled away for air and sighed as his hands pushed up your legs and underneath your dress, “Always have.”

“I’m here, darling. I’m here now.”

Robert shoved the skirt of your dress over your hips and stomach, revealing your slowly soaking white and dainty underwear. He hummed in satisfaction when his finger circled the wet spot at your entrance, causing a moan to leave your lips.

“Eager, are we?” he teased, pulling down your underwear without hesitation.

“Yes,” you said bravely, “Now, nothing fancy tonight. We have plenty of time for other things, but for now, I need you inside me.”

“Alright then,” Robert chuckles, hastily unbuckling his slacks before pushing them far enough down his legs to be comfortable.

He glided his tip along your slickness, gathering all he could to push inside you with less friction. You whined at the contact, a wanton moan escaping you suddenly as he moved into you at a patient pace. But you were anything but patient, especially at this point. You pushed your hips, causing Robert to enter you further, to which he let out a delicious groan. His hands gripped your sides intensely, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. He buried his face in your neck, his teeth baring down into the skin as he felt you suck his cock in.

“Wanted- needed this for so long,” Robert whispered in your ear as his tip finally brushed against your insides.

“God, me too,” you cried out when he slowly pulled back out and then slammed back into you, “Fuck.”

“Such a dirty mouth,” Robert tutted playfully, to which you flashed him a smile, moving your hips to wiggle him further inside you.

Robert had thrust himself into you again, this time a little faster than the last. He kept doing this until he had a steady rhythm, lifting your legs to put on his shoulders to get a better angle. You growled at the sensation of him hitting your cervix, and your hands scratched down his back. Robert picked up speed, almost making the chaise scoot on the floor. He was fucking you like mad, and you were taking every second of it like his cock was water and you were thirsting in the desert. In this situation, the figure of speech wasn’t too far from the truth. The feeling of him repeatedly steering into your stomach made you nearly squeal from pleasure. Robert presses your thighs to your shoulders, the undersides of them against his chest. You were a mess, moaning like a whore and gripping Robert as if you blinked hard enough, he’d disappear.

“Taking me like such a good girl,” Robert grunted, moving a hand to your cunt to swipe at your clit in time with his thrusts.

You tossed your head back, crying out at the sensation. No one had ever fucked you with such vigor and passion. You felt that growing bubble in your gut, expecting it to burst any second.

“Cum in me,” you demanded, “Need to feel you.”

Robert laughed breathlessly at you, “Are you sure?”

“Certain.”

And as if he weren’t going fast enough, he pulled out, flipped you over, and took you from behind even faster than before. Robert pushed your cheek into the chaise cushion, watching you as you side-eyed him with utmost pleasure. You could feel yourself clenching around him, your orgasm creeping up. Robert pushed your lower back down as far as it’d go, your stomach flush with the material of the chaise underneath you. Your ass being in the air caused Robert to hit a new spot inside you, sending you reeling and spilling over the edge. As your cunt suffocated his cock with its walls, Robert followed your release with his own. His hot cum filled you up with warmth, your hips still bouncing against him. Robert panted from behind you, slowly pulling himself out of your now-dripping pussy.

You rolled back onto your back, now facing Robert, “That was… wow,” you exhaled.

“I concur,” Robert joked, sitting back and pulling you onto his lap.

You hummed in exhaustion, blissed out as you hung your head on his shoulder.

“Want to stay?” you asked tiredly, eyeing the now-spilled remainder of wine Robert had placed on the floor earlier. You’d worry about it tomorrow.

“I’d love to,” Robert muttered into your ear, kissing it before picking you up off his lap.

The rest of your night is spent watching Robert study you as you lay beside each other in bed. He took you in as if he was seeing you in a new perspective- and he was. Robert was as curious about you as he was about the world and how it worked. Except now, he had to worry about not destroying you like he had the world.

taglist:

@baizzhu @hjmalmed @queenshelby @hjmalmed @amanda08319 @orijanko @naty-1001 @raineeace @savagemickey03 @langdons-slut @shynovelist @sstar-ggirl @trixie23 @dunklerkeks1611 @hllywdwhre @slut4thebroken @mypoisonedvine @burnyouwithacigarettelighter @cranesbathtowel @arieslost @nefhertari @forgottenpeakywriter @llucky-llove @october-atoner @madlittlecriminal @ynisthatyou @starbxnny @darkmoviesquotespizza @newtsniffles @acapelladitty @radmerrmaid @loverhymeswith @lacontroller1991 @pictureinme

#j robert oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer x y/n #j robert oppenheimer x you #j robert oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer x reader smut #j robert oppenheimer x you smut #j robert oppenheimer x y/n smut #j robert oppenheimer smut #cillian!oppenheimer #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader smut #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you smut #cillian murphy x y/n smut #floralcyanide writes

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heartthrobin · 11 months

Text

here kitty kitty

miguel o’ hara x gn!reader

wc: 1.2k

warnings: sunshine reader, grumpy miguel, also lovesick miguel, tooth-rotting fluff, kittens :)

an: went to go see ATSV again today and was thinking about my man so i needed to get this out. remember to reblog and comment to support your favourite writers <3

summary: you want a kitten. Miguel doesn’t want to share.

the air on earth 991 was cold.

an icy white blanket draped over the tops of the roofs in Manhattan, broken only by the red streaks whizzing between buildings - the serene snowy landscape interrupted by echoing grunts of fist colliding with metal.

even over your suit, the cold bit into your arms and up between the tendrils of your hair as you free fell down the side of a bank.

“Pav, on your left!” Jessica’s voice echoed down your earpiece.

you spat out a web at the building adjacent, body twisting and turning between the flailing green arms of the Dr Ock that had appeared on this earth where he most definitely did not belong.

a crack rung down the alleyway where Miguel’s foot connected with the anomaly’s jaw. a groan followed quickly after it and metal arms grappled at low hanging ledges, crumbling them beneath monstrous pressure.

“hey Pav,” you called your best friend over the microphone, sing-songing his name. “bet you can’t pin down more tentacles than me?”

“ha,” his voice bounced quickly back. “you are so on!”

you kicked off the edge of the red-brick side of the building, swan diving between flying metal.

thick white webs tangled over the nearest tentacle, your ankle wobbled dangerously beneath you when you landed against slippery ice-bitten tar.

“yn—“ a voice called through your earpiece again. “—stop being reckless. focus on his abdomen, it’s exposed.”

you giggled merrily, stomach swooping when your released a web and arched into a backflip far over Dr Ock’s head. “take a chill pill, Miggy.”

he hated when you called him that at work. preferred when it was shared in the privacy of his bed, when you’d lean lazily over his broad chest and pick at flecks of hair over his forehead.

“you’ll crease that pretty forehead, baby.” you crooned and then grunted, tugging down on the web that you’d managed to tangle around a metal arm.

Pavitr flew past in your peripheral vision. he sent a splatter of web straight at the anomaly’s face: there was a giant roar and the kick of Jessica’s motorcycle.

“para.” Miguel scolded, but you could hear the blush in his voice.

your mouth opened - in the corner of your eye you watched Jessica turn her head away - unleashing a supersonic scream that rippled down over the figure of Otto Octavius. trembling hands came over his ears, a useless attempt at defense, and four tentacles writhed painfully against the grey coloured sky.

Miguel and Pavitr came down in unison towards his exposed cranium.

it all seemed to end within seconds. Dr Ock concealed in the chamber of the portable prison and you panting over the sidewalk.

snow fell gently over the scene, the air unshaken by the violence down in the street. crumbled bits of rock littered car roofs and bodega doormats.

Jessica was leaning against the seat of her now parked motorcycle, Pav was strutting towards your figure and Miguel was edging down the side of the nearest building.

“i took him down so, technically, i won. you owe me a soda.”

Pavitr’s palm closed over your shoulder, warming the spot under his grip. “woah, woah woah. technically, you wouldn’t have done anything if i hadn’t screamed—“

the end of your sentence dissolved, abandoned. on the inner side of the sidewalk, close against the wall of the shut laundromat: you noticed a tiny black figure against the pure white snow.

“what—Pav look …”

you crunched through the knee high snow towards it, kneeling to scoop up the shivering creature.

two giant yellow eyes blinked down from where you held it up against the dying afternoon light.

“it’s a kitten.” your heart clenched tightly in your chest.

Pavitr reached a hand over, scratching a spot on the creature’s head with a single finger. the cat was barely bigger than a barbie doll. he meowed softly.

you tucked him against your chest, wrapping your arms over his small figure. “are you cold, sweetheart? you wanna come home with us?”

a tiny black tail swished under your arm. Pavitr laughed, “yeah. like Miguel would let that happen.”

you huffed. “that softie? he’s easy to break.”

“let’s get moving. back to HQ.” as if summoned by the mention of his name, Miguel was moving towards the team.

Jessica didn’t need to be asked again and disappeared through a blurry yellow, orange and red portal before Miguel had even fully reached the sidewalk.

the portal floated in place, buzzing and hissing with it’s brightness.

you turned to your boyfriend, black kitten tucked against you. his gaze was focused over his watch, tapping at the little yellow keyboard.

“Miguel.” you whined lowly. his eyes flickered down to you, drifting curiously over to the creature in your arms.

“mhm?” he hummed lowly, cautiously.

“isn’t he cute?” you pressed.

Miguel’s arms fell to his side. his face remained stoney. “yes. very cute.” his words were as interested as his expression. scarcely.

you stepped closer to him, invading his space in a way you knew nobody else ever could. your arms nudged his lower chest.

“he looks kinda like you, baby. all dark hair and big eyes.” as if he knew he was being mentioned, the cat stuck his little head out from the crevice of your arm to look up at the giant looming spider.

“what do you want?” he sighed softly, like he wasn’t absolutely dissolving under your sweet syrupy gaze.

“can’t we take him home?”

“you know we can’t do that.” his hands found his hips.

“he’s cold.” you shuffled forward, pressing up against his figure: jutting out your chin to rest on his warm chest. “he’s shivering, look.”

“that’s too bad for him.”

“are you really so heartless, Miguel?”

Miguel shrugged. lashes fluttering where his eyes were raking up and down your figure.

“yes.” he settled on.

it made you chuckle. your laughter bubbled against his suit, rumbling the kitten in your grasp. “no you’re not. you wouldn’t let me annoy you like this if you were.”

“maybe.” one hand came off his hip, running it’s palm over your sweaty forehead and pushing stray hairs back in place. he leaned down and pressed a warm kiss there. “but that doesn’t mean you’re keeping the cat.”

“aw, you guys are so adorable.” you’d just about forgotten that Pavitr was there. “it’s making me sick.”

Miguel flashed shining white fangs at him, a growl echoing from the depths of his throat.

“yeah, yeah.” Pavitr groaned, sidestepping his boss before disappearing into the portal. “i’ll see you two back at HQ.”

Miguel ushered you away. you set the kitten close to the door of a bakery where warm air was curling out from inside.

he was waiting for you by the portal, hand outstretched.

you took it, bumping into his side with the purest intention of annoying him.

“you gonna get me a cat, Miggy?”

he huffed. “what, so i can fight for your attention in my own apartment? no ways.”

you fell into step beside him through the portal. the headquarters appeared fuzzily into view.

“we’ll see.”

it took less than a week of pestering before Miguel arrived home late after work with a tiny black kitten in a box.

you’d kissed him drunk and promised that he’d forever remain your favourite clawed and fanged creature in the apartment.

he didn’t seem to mind too much after that.

to be fair, his lips were too swollen and your tongue was too far down his throat for him to protest anyways.

pls comment and reblog! <3

taglist:

@red-hydra @ihavemanyhusbandfandoms @ladybambifae @jimins-vanillaflavoured-cum-blog @koshi-sama @moisttowlett @gavvaiins @niffysboxers @joemamamatheslayerr @thel0v3hashira143 @bonquequehere18492 @crazy-ravioli @prettygirlpattinson @sarapaprikas-blog @novelaaaaaaaa @novadragondoll @homowitch @tamashiiraiden @airachniide @stnao @robinastro

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv

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urrockstar-xe · 7 months

Text

detective sweetheart - n.a x fem!reader

posted nov 3rd, 2023 12:22 am

this was what i did for my "based on my day" challenge (i spent it watching svu season 14 lmfao) its also my first time writing for nick amaro or any detectives in general so I'm sorry if he's a bit ooc, its also a crossover with criminal minds and i think i made up the whole technical analyst assistant thing but that's my job in my criminal minds DR lmfao. hope you enjoy :)

this includes alcohol (reader consumption), use of Y/n, and possibly wrong wording for FBI stuff?? the reader likes children (in a not creepy way). Jennifer Jareau

summary: the BAU's technical analyst assistant develops quite the crush on SVU's detective Nick Amaro

masterlist

word count: 0.8k

You sat quietly in a bar, sitting amongst a group of FBI agents you knew well and a few detectives you’d just recently had the pleasure of meeting, chatting about the now-closed case and a few chatting about their children, you hadn’t spoken much, too busy trying not to stare at Detective Nick Amaro.

“Detective Amaro, this is Y/n L/n, she’s our technical analyst assistant, our official technical analyst is back at Quantico focusing on another case” Your boss, Aaron Hotchner, introduced you to one of the detectives you’d be working with for a necrophilia serial killer case,

You two spent the last few days working very closely together on this case.

Penelope had been working on another case and due to a small fire that you and Penelope accidentally started with a candle in your already small office, Hotch decided to bring you with the team to Manhattan.

And of course, with your luck, Penelope couldn’t be there to fangirl over the hot detective with you, so you had to deal with the consequences of your short attention span all on your own, (granted our beloved Spencer did try to relate and fangirl with you, he did his best, but he was quite busy getting into conspiracy arguments with Sergeant John Munch).

Now that the case was over, Hotch decided that the team was in no rush back to Quantico and could leave in the morning, so while he called in early and left back to his hotel, the rest of you went out with some of the SVU detectives,

Including Nick

of course.

“What about you? Got any kids?” Nick asked, accidentally snapping you out of your trance, as he handed JJ back her phone after she showed him a photo of her boys.

“Oh, uh”

fuck, he smelt good, why did Derek have to sit you right next to him??

“No, no kids, I do adore them though” You smiled in a way you hoped wasn’t too awkward, before Emily spoke up “She’s great with them too! I mean they just love her”

Nick smiled at that, nodding as Emily talked.

You laughed awkwardly in response, “she’s exaggerating” you whispered just loud enough for Nick to hear, earning a laugh.

oh my god, he LAUGHS?

“As much fun this has been, I’m gonna call it a night” JJ announced, standing up from her seat, her actions mirrored by Spencer as he agreed.

They were shortly followed by Olivia, Fin, and Emily. Derek went home with a pretty girl (obviously) and finally, Rossi left with Rollins, after she offered him a ride back to the hotel.

That left, you and Nick, alone

of fucking course

“So, miss L/n, how was your first time in New York, huh?” He asked, taking a sip of his bourbon or was it whiskey? Maybe scotch? You couldn’t remember

“Oh, you mean besides the corpse-loving freak? Pretty great, thanks for asking, Detective.” you joked, feeling less intimidated thanks to the vodka cranberry sitting in front of you.

He laughed, “Yeah, dumb question” he shook his head almost embarrassed but you were eating it up.

“How was your first time working with the BAU, hm?” Nick smiled as you practically hummed the question, he thought it was cute, and you could tell, which only boosted your confidence.

“Gotta be honest, I was worried you guys would swarm in and take everything over but, it was a lot easier than I expected” You nod in response,

“A lot of people think that, but typically it’s an ego thing. was it an ego thing for you, Nicky?” The nickname had slipped off your tongue with ease as you teased your schoolgirl crush, having called him that just a few days ago when you first started working together.

Nick scoffed, “What? No, absolutely not” but the small smirk on his lips was a dead giveaway. “Okay, maybe it was kind of an ego thing, just a little bit” he whispered his confession. You all but giggled in response

“It’s gettin’ late, what do you say I walk you back to your hotel huh?” he offered, standing up and putting his coat on before reaching for yours

“I’d like that, thank you, Detective” You smiled, standing from your seat and sighing as he carefully put your coat on for you.

The hotel wasn’t far but god you wished it had been, it would’ve given you some more time to flirt with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life

(exaggerating? Pft nuh-uh)

But yet, here you stood, in front of the tall building that ruined your excitement.

“Hey, uh how would you feel if the next time you were in New York, I took you out?” Nick asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

You smiled, hoping the lights surrounding you both hid the blush on your cheeks instead of accentuating it. “Or if you’re ever in Virginia?”

He smiled, nodding.

“I think I’d like that a lot” You responded, quietly, suddenly very sober.

“Great, have a safe flight back home, alright?”

it's already over

“Thank you for walking me back, Nick”

“Anytime, goodnight, sweetheart” he smiled once more.

Sweetheart

“Goodnight, detective”

#nick amaro x reader #nick amaro x you #nick amaro imagine #svu imagine #law and order svu imagines #nick amaro fluff #nick amaro #Spotify

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notmyneighbor · 3 days

Text

resistance - doppel francis mosses x female reader

part 1/?

words | 4.4k

cw | eventual smut, no explicit content in this chapter. post nightmare mode lore reveal setting.

summary | You work as a secretary for the DDD, a well paying job that offers you an extra sense of security and safety.

Until you meet a doppelganger on the run after work one day, an imposter that defies everything you’ve ever known about these monsters and makes you question whether the organization that employs you isn’t the real deceiver.

taglist | @jazminetoad @uhnanix @fangwh0r3 @zenxvii

ao3 link

You’d seen a doppelganger once.

Not up close; but nearby, from the balcony of your apartment. It had been raining earlier that evening. There were puddles of water everywhere, reflecting the light of the streetlamps, mirroring the clear night sky. A beautiful, peaceful scene, until you’d noticed the vans bearing the DDD logo approach the lone figure walking below. You’d instinctively stepped back into the interior of your living space, keeping to the shadows. The cleaners, as they are called, had blocked the doppel’s path with their trucks, with dozens of men clad in yellow hazmat suits. You’d heard boots splashing, shouting. Then silence. There is never any gunfire. You still don’t know how they dispatch of the replicants. But it is always neatly done. There are never any bodies. No lingering evidence. The suited men had departed as fast as they’d arrived. You’d stepped back onto the balcony to peer at the street below.

You could no longer see the stars reflected there, the pools of rainwater scattered.

***

The doppel’s eyes open.

He can’t see the faces of the humans that took him—they’re still encased in the hazmat suits that both protect them from being replicated and shield their identities. They’re standing a short distance away, hovering near the side of the room, making way for yet another human, this one not disguised, no gear encasing him. He approaches and immediately the doppelganger does not like him. There is an arrogant swagger to his walk, a cruel glint in his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses. The replicant tries to move, testing his bonds, and finds he’s been completely restrained.

The cocky man wearing the loose fitting, unbuttoned labcoat reaches the captive doppel and rakes a hand through his dark hair. There is a badge on a lanyard around his neck, bearing the DDD logo and the name Dr. W. Afton. “You almost made it inside. You’re a dead ringer for Francis Mosses. So what did you forget? Missing documents? Bad forgeries?”

The doppel frowns, his struggles slowing as the man addresses him. “Neither.”

“Where’s his paperwork?” This now directed at the two suited figures. One hands him a clear plastic bag where the clone’s ID card and entry request had been confiscated and stored inside. The doctor snatches it from the gloved hand and extracts both items, studying each before tossing them and the bag on a steel table nearby.

“These are flawless imitations as well. So I’ll ask again: Why did you get caught?”

“I don’t know.”

Afton sighs. “Do you have any idea how much money has been invested in this program? How much time and effort, how much sacrifice? It makes the Manhattan Project look like child’s play in comparison.”

The doppelganger doesn’t understand what the researcher is lamenting. He has only a rudimentary understanding of human finances. He has no idea what project he’s referring to. But he can read body language well enough, and he recognizes the anger and frustration that is bubbling just beneath the seemingly calm exterior.

“Now we’re back to square one. If you can’t even infiltrate an apartment building, how the hell are you going to invade enemy lines? Damn near worthless,” the man in the labcoat growls.

The doppel grits his teeth, renewing his attempts at escaping his bonds. He doesn’t like humans on principal, and he especially doesn’t like the one standing in front of him, insulting his kind. He wouldn’t even waste time eating him; tearing him to pieces would be satisfaction enough. He tries to shed the human disguise he’s adopted to reveal his true form beneath, to have sharp teeth and claws at the ready, alarmed when he’s unable to do so.

The doctor smiles, and the doppelganger freezes again. It is not a friendly gesture. “You’ve been given a suppressant, so don’t bother trying to change back. As for the other…I understand now. You’ve got a temper. That’s why you failed. If you’d been able to control your emotions for a few moments longer, you would’ve achieved your goal. Well, that can be adjusted. Maybe you aren’t a complete failure after all.” He turns towards his two suited coworkers. “Wipe him, and then I’ll have the team make the necessary adjustments and we’ll send him back out.”

One of the pair nods in acknowledgment and Afton departs from the room, the hem of the oversized white coat fluttering behind him. The doppelganger doesn’t know exactly what he’d meant by ‘wipe’, but he has a sneaking suspicion, and it fills him with a cold dread. Memory erasure, perhaps. His artifically created mind once again a blank slate, a naked canvas to work on. He won’t remember any of this.

He’s trying to escape for a different purpose now, attack no longer his priority, but it makes no difference. Something metallic is shoved against the side of his neck, there is a hiss of sound as something discharges, shooting into his circulatory system, and then his vision goes dark, granting him passage into oblivion.

***

You’re working late.

You don’t mind as much as you might otherwise have, because you are earning overtime. There are more and more sealed documents for you to file every day; more and more people to contact. The doppels were spreading like a virus, in spite of the efforts of the organization you’re employed by.

By now the fear is something that still lingers, but people have grown somewhat accustomed to it, going about their daily routines. Just as life had gone on during the most recent world war. Beyond your control, so your only choice was to adapt to the new normal. To men leaving and dying to protect freedom, to preserve the lives of their countrymen. Waiting for an end. Hoping for victory. It wasn’t so different with the doppelgangers; it was just that the fight was on native soil now, with both doppels and humans fighting for survival and supremacy.

You don’t recall exactly when the government run organization had come into existence; only that the DDD had mobilized fairly quickly after the news of the replicants had spread. The details had always been vague on where the doppelgangers had come from, but the general consensus was that they’d invaded from another planet. You’re not sure you believe that, but it’s also difficult to accept that there are monsters capable of wearing the face of a friend or family member, so maybe that explanation was as good as any other.

Regardless, you’ve done your secretarial job for several months now, with the added bonus of residing in a DDD guarded building. There are no guarantees of safety, of course, but it does make you feel a little more secure. The building you work in is massive; you’ve never even seen most of its interior. You’re simply relegated to an office near the entrance, one that is openly guarded, with men carrying actual weapons. Another level of safety. You’ve never witnessed an incident, never seen any type of a break in, save one overzealous news team that wanted to come in for an exclusive scoop, but that had only happened once. You’ve since seen interviews on television, prerecorded, likely scripted. Stating facts that everyone already knew. Most things still shrouded in secrecy.

Still, the DDD is keeping you safe and at the end of the day that’s all that really matters, isn’t it? You stow the last folder and switch off the desk lamp. Your work is finally finished. It’s time to go home.

You nod to the guards on the way out as you exit the building, settling your handbag over your shoulder, your ID badge tucked away, car keys in hand. It’s a beautiful evening, the season just edging towards summer. You’ll need to switch out your wardrobe soon, exchanging sweaters and wool skirts for cooler blouses and flowing dresses. The employee parking lot is a massive affair, extending far past the structure you’ve just vacated. There are still a large number of vehicles parked there. The building operated around the clock.

You finally reach your car and insert the key into the lock, momentarily distracted as you’re contemplating what you’re going to make for dinner when you get home, when you hear a voice, a low, masculine rumble, directly behind you.

“Go around to the other side and unlock the door.”

You turn to see a familiar face crouched down between the cars. The handsome, perpetually tired looking milkman from the apartment building you both live in.

Except it’s not him. Not really. You don’t need to see his ID card or entry request to know it. There’s a look in his eyes that his placid, real counterpart doesn’t have.

This is a doppelganger.

You glance past him back at the building. You’re nowhere near the entrance. No one else is around at the moment. You’re on your own.

You carefully thread the keys on the ring clutched in your hand between each finger so the jagged metal edges peek between the spaces, your fist tightening. Not the ideal weapon, but it was all you could come up with on such short notice.

“Sure,” you say, turning slowly. “I’m happy to give you a lift.” You attempt a smile, your arm striking out.

Utter failure. You’ve scratched his cheek, but that’s all. The doppel stands upright, looming over you, one hand absently touching the injury, the beads of ruby dotting his fingertips regarded for a brief moment before his eyes glare at you. “Don’t try that again, or I’ll kill you right now.”

“You wouldn’t dare. You need me to escape.” It’s beyond foolish to try to barter with a replicant, but you’re feeling strangely brave. “I doubt you know how to drive a car.”

“I’m a fast learner,” he growls, grabbing your upper arm, and some of your bravado vanishes. “Unlock the other door, and maybe I’ll let you live.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.” You try to shake him off but his grip is like iron. You have no choice but to let yourself be maneuvered to the other side of the vehicle, completing his request.

“Don’t do anything but get behind the wheel. If you try to make a run for it to get help, I will kill you.”

“I understand.” He releases you, settling inside the car, and you loop around, hoping someone will make an appearance and come to your rescue. But there’s no one. Not a soul. You sit down and shut the door, slotting the key in the ignition.

“Where are we going?”

“Where do you think? The apartments.”

You shake your head. “What is it with you doppels and that building? I don’t understand why it has such a rep—” You hear an alarm, audible even inside the car, your words abruptly halted. Your eyes meet the mimic’s.

“They’re looking for me. Drive, now.”

“They know you’re here?”

“Drive,” he says again, his fingers clamping on your arm again. “Or—”

“—Yes, I know,” you interrupt. “You’ll kill me. I’m going. I need my arm to shift gears.”

The imitation milkman relaxes his grip, allowing you to reverse the car out of the parking space and out of the lot just in time before you see a flurry of activity behind you: armed guards and men in hazmat suits, prowling around between the parked automobiles.

Francis’ doppelganger slinks further down in his seat, swiping absently at the cut you’ve inflicted, his eyes warily focused on the passing scenery outside the windows.

You debate about just going to the police, but again, you’d be gambling with time. You know how swiftly the doppels can kill. You’re not even sure if regular bullets would be effective. In any case, you’d probably never make it out of the car. Your only chance was behind you, growing further and further away the more distance your car traveled. So close. You’d been so close to rescue.

“So what were you doing lurking around a DDD facility?” You start to lower the driver’s side window, but his hand is gripping you again.

“Don’t touch anything. Just keep driving.”

“I was just trying to let some fresh air in.”

“Don’t,” he repeats again. You nod and his fingers drop from your upper extremity. “I don’t know why I was there. I woke up, and I escaped. I don’t remember all the details. I think I was given something to make me forget.”

You squirm in your seat. “Wait, you’re saying you came from inside the building? It doesn’t make sense. The DDD kills doppels. It doesn’t collect them.”

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “It’s like parts of my memory have been erased. I can’t remember how I got there.”

“How did you get out?”

“They didn’t check all the restraints when they were transferring me. One of them was loose. Pretended to still be knocked out. They believed it. That’s all I needed.”

“But the security. You couldn’t have just waltzed out.”

“That’s what they were expecting, yes. Guarding the doors. Not the roof, though. Stairs on the outside made it easy.”

“The fire escape,” you murmur. There had to be a rather sizeable distance between the top floor and the roof, but perhaps the doppels weren’t bothered by such things. It was clever, really. He was resourceful, if nothing else.

Your palms feel sweaty against the steering wheel. “So what’s going to happen when we get back to the apartments?”

He glances over at you. “What do you think? I’m going in.”

“And then what?”

“And then…I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just stay there for awhile. Plan my next move.”

“I doubt Francis is going to want a doppel roommate.”

“He doesn’t have to worry about that. I’ll be staying with you.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s crazy! I’m not going to harbor a fugitive doppelganger.”

“You can go about your daily activities. I won’t interfere.”

You’ve reached your destination. You park the car, killing the engine. “You’re not even going to make it inside the building without…paperwork,” you say the last softly as he withdraws documents that have been tucked into one pocket.

“You know there’s something strange going on inside that building.”

You hesitate. You’ve never doubted the organization you work for; and yet, this replicant, belonging to a species who exists solely based on its ability to deceive, seems sincere, as foolish as that sounds. They could be the words of a desperate creature, but they don’t feel like that. The dark eyes that watch you look guileless.

He could have torn you to pieces already if he’d wanted to. He could still do it right now, but he’s making no violent moves against you. So that couldn’t really be his goal.

Your surprise yourself when you nod. “There are going to be rules. Boundaries. I’m not going to walk out of the shower and have you perving on me,” you mutter.

His lips twitch, his features softening, reminding you more of the human he’s trying to imitate. “Believe me, I have no interest in anything of that regard. I’m simply looking for a place to shelter.”

“If the doorman doesn’t let you in…”

“They will.”

“You can’t go in there looking like that.” You dig a packet of tissues from your purse, handing him several. “You’re going to have to spit on it, try to scrub some of the blood…yeah, like that.” The scratches are still there after he runs the moistened material over his cheek, but at least it’s no longer streaked and spattered in crimson. “I guess that’s going to have to do. You ready?”

He crumples the stained tissues inside his fist. “I’m ready.”

***

The doppelganger knows the documents are going to pass effortlessly.

The real question is whether the doorman is going to buy his act. He has to explain the cuts on his face now. Any deviation of appearance is an immediate red flag.

You’ve got a bit of a spark in you that’s surprising, he thinks. He hadn’t been expecting you to try to defend yourself, as pointless as that activity had been. You might be employed by that hated organization, but you’re not completely blindsided by their authority. There’s a slight tinge of doubt, and he’s begun worrying that crack open a little wider.

You’ve already gone through, and now it’s his turn to pass inspection. He presents the documents and readies a smile.

“Out late, aren’t you Francis?”

“Long route today,” he replies, forcing his fingers to remain still, his claws sheathed.

“I hear that. Work hours get longer every day, but I don’t seem to be getting any richer.” The doorman slides the card back through the metal slot at the base of the window as the false milkman smiles indulgently. “What happened to your face?”

“Oh,” he says. “One of the new houses on my route has a very unfriendly cat. I made the mistake of trying to pet it. Won’t try that again.” He gives a self deprecating chuckle and the doorman winces in sympathy.

“You gotta be careful. You never know these days. Thing could be rabid. Don’t even need to worry about the doppels; got enough trouble with everything else. Cats,” he mutters, pushing the buzzer to grant the doppel entrance. “Hope you have a good evening, Francis. Get some rest. You look like you could use it.”

“Will do. Have a good one.” The doppelganger walks casually through the entrance and sighs when the door shuts behind him. You’re waiting by the elevator, arms folded across your chest, looking nervous.

“You made it through,” you whisper in what sounds like a mixture of disbelief and awe.

“I told you. Now let’s get to your apartment before we run into anyone else.”

You press the button to call the elevator and the doors slide apart. The doppel follows you inside. You reside on the top floor, at the end of the hall. He glances down the length of that corridor while you fumble the key in the lock. At last the door opens and he ducks inside, heaving another sigh of relief. Safe, for now.

You set your handbag down on the living room couch, watching as he walks around the apartment.

“Sure, make yourself at home, have a look around. Geez,” you mutter.

“It’s small,” the copycat observes, noting there is a single bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen in addition to the living room.

“It’s all I need. I’m single.” You sound a little offended.

The replicant twitches aside the drapes covering the sliding glass doors that lead onto a narrow balcony. He peers similarly out of all of the windows.

“What are you doing?” Exasperated, now.

“Checking for points of egress. In case of an emergency.”

“Oh.”

“It’ll do,” he declares, tossing the milkman’s cap on the kitchen counter and scrubbing his hair.

“Glad it meets with your approval.” You pause. “I could have ratted you out to the doorman, you know. I might not have survived, but he would’ve been safe behind the barrier. He’d have called the DDD.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Your lips part but you seem hesitant to speak. “I don’t know.” You inhale deeply. “So, about those rules.”

“Yes?”

“My bedroom, off limits. You’ll sleep on the couch. Or hibernate or whatever you do. I don’t know.”

“Agreed.”

“No answering the phone or the door. No using the stove. I don’t want you burning the place down. And you can’t make a lot of noise. I don’t want anyone knowing you’re here.”

“I don’t want anyone knowing I’m here, either. See how neatly our goals align?”

“Whatever.” You drum polished nails on the counter. “You can’t go in the bathroom when I’m in there, either. I’ll be locking the door.”

“Fine.”

“Do you even take showers? Bathe?”

“Of course. We do everything you humans do. Nearly.”

“Right.” Your fingers still. “Well, I don’t know, I guess that’s everything I can think of off the top of my head. I’m going to make dinner. I don’t know what you eat.”

“We have preferences, as I’m sure you do. Meat is obviously most favorable,” he says, his grin wolfish. “But anything will suffice for now.”

“Fine.” You reach for your apron, tying it around your waist before washing your hands. You begin rummaging around in the cupboards and regierator, then turn back to face him. “You’re not going to just stand there and watch me, are you?”

“What else am I supposed to do? How am I going to learn?”

“I’m not a culinary instructor.” You glare at him, then sigh. “You can cut vegetables, I guess.”

“You trust me with a blade?” He raises an eyebrow, then laughs at your expression, an honest gesture of amusement. “That was an attempt at humor. I’m not going to use a knife on you. My claws are likely much sharper anyway.”

“That wasn’t funny. And that’s not reassuring.” A strand of hair falls loose across your cheek as you arrange things on the counter, and he impulsively reaches for it, securing it behind your ear. You look sharply at him. “New rule. Don’t touch me. Ever.”

“Alright,” he agrees.

***

The doppelganger is not, as it turns out, a fan of vegetables.

He makes short work of the meatloaf, though, and even seems to enjoy the dessert you offer, a piece of the cake you’d made the evening before.

You’ve never had a visitor to the apartment, not once. This is the first time the other chair across from yours has been occupied. There’s a definite tension between the two of you. You don’t trust your guest, but you suppose he doesn’t really trust you, either. You’re natural born enemies, both capable of causing each other's demise, just in different ways.

After dinner the doppel surprisingly helps you clear the table and tidy the kitchen. You wonder how much of it is just a game to him; a kind of self challenge to better imitate natural human behavior. You offer him the use of the shower first but he politely declines, insisting you should indulge before him. It’s more than a little nerve wracking, knowing that creature was on the other side of the door, locked or not. You knot your robe tightly over your nightgown when you’ve finished washing. You don’t have anything clean for him to wear. Something you’ll have to try to figure out tomorrow.

You drape a sheet over the couch and tuck a spare pillow into a fresh case from the linen closet, adding a throw to the end in case he needed it. You have no idea, absolutely zero clue why you’re even doing this. It was so, so dangerous.

You hear the doppel’s footsteps in the hall. He’s wearing just his undershirt and briefs, and you look away, cheeks flushing. “You’re all set up. I’ll shut the light off on my way by.”

“Thank you.”

You blink. Gratitude. Not something you’d expected. You’re more baffled than ever. This replicant defies everything you’ve ever known about the doppelgangers.

“Goodnight, Francis. Do I call you Francis? I don’t…” Suddenly you’re backpedaling, thinking you’ve made an error, possibly insulted him.

But the doppel doesn��t seem upset. “Yes. That’s who I am, now.”

You stare at the smudged undereyes and the crooked nose, every detail of your milkman neighbor so perfectly replicated. “That’s who you’re pretending to be,” you clarify softly. “Make sure you keep that cut on your cheek clean, so you don’t get an infection.”

”Wouldnt that be preferable? If I met my demise, without you even having to lift a finger?” You frown, remaining silent. “You look better like this. Natural, without all of that paint on,” he murmurs, his hand lifting and then dropping sharply as if he’d needed to remind himself about your rule not to be touched.

”There’s nothing wrong with wearing makeup. It’s expected. Professional,” you add.

”If you say so. I still prefer this instead.”

”I’m not doing it because you like or don’t like it. That’s irrelevant.” You don’t know why the comment is making you react so strongly.

The imposter shrugs. ”Of course.”

The sudden silence stretches and you turn away. Even after you’ve shut the lamp off, you feel his eyes watching you retreat down the hall.

***

You wake up thirsty.

You lean over and switch on the lamp on the nightstand, squinting at the clock. Only one in the morning. You still had a long night ahead.

You try to swallow. Dry as the desert. It’s no use. You need a drink of water.

You shift the top sheet and swing your legs over the side of the bed, then rise and pad over to the door, trying to turn the lock silently, keeping your footsteps stealthy. You don’t want to wake the doppelganger up.

You’re able to find your way in the dark, keeping a hand on the wall, then feeling for the kitchen counter, fingers automatically shifting to count the cabinet doors until you reach the cupboard with the glasses. You softly open the door and lift the faucet, filling the glass. You’ve just taken your first sip when you hear the doppel’s voice from the living room.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I needed some water.” You enter the other room, finding the milkman’s clone standing in front of the sliding doors, one edge of the drapes held back, peering outside.

“You shouldn’t do that. What if someone sees you?” You switch the lamp on and he drops the curtain, his gaze now focused on you.

Suddenly you realize you’ve neglected to put your robe on. You’re only wearing a sleeveless nightdress, the material thin and flimsy. You fold your arms in front of you, taking random sips of water, trying to act casual.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Because you are incredibly noisy. I could hear you in the other room down the hall.”

“I was trying to be quiet.”

“And failing.”

You can’t help but feel a bit insulted. And it’s silly, really. You aren’t the uninvited fugitive alien-monster-thing staying in someone’s home. “Well, I’m going back to bed now. I won’t bother you again.”

“I didn’t say it bothered me.” He pauses. “Your heart rate is elevated.”

“What?”

“Your pulse. Fast, like this.” He begins tapping rapidly against his forearm, mimicking the rhythm.

“You can’t possibly hear that.”

“I can,” he insists.

You swallow, finding your mouth is dry again. “I’m going back to bed now.”

“Goodnight.”

You think you hear him tapping again as you shut off the light.

Or maybe it’s just the echo of the real one, throbbing in your own ears.

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #milkman #that’s not my neighbor #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #tnmn francis mosses #doppelganger francis mosses #francis mosses tnmn #doppel francis #francis tnmn #tnmn milkman

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kellykidd · 1 month

Text

Baby Severide - Chapter 9: Date Night

*Gif belongs to its rightful owner, it is not mine*

Pairing: Kelly Severide x reader

Summary: You and Kelly go on your first date night after becoming parents

Words: 1569

Warnings: implied smut, doctors, mentions of sex, mention of siblings, hockey

Read on Ao3 here

Notes: So remember how I said chapter 8 was the last of Baby Severide? Well I lied because I love this fic so so so much. Thank you for your support and join the Taglist to be notified when any of my new fics are published!

Join my taglist here

Tags: @district447 @mrspeacem1nusone @tringeorge @storiesofsvu @cfdhouse51 @skullcupcakes @whatismypurpos @carnationworld @youraveragedorkysimp @treehouse-mouse @witchywinchester99 @keabbs @marvelcharactersxreader @pensfan5871 @dhighsstuff

——

"So I'm cleared?" You asked, sitting up on the table.

"Yes Mrs Severide, you may now return to full workouts, sexual activity and carrying more than 20 pounds. Take it slow, if anything is painful or feels out of the ordinary, please give us a call," Dr Calhoun replied, "how does that make you feel? Mentally?"

"Honestly, a little nervous."

"Why?"

"What if something happens?"

"From everything that I have checked, there is no need for concern. If something happens, we're only a call away. If its after hours, head to Med and have them page me. If there's something wrong, and I don’t think there is, but if something happens, we will take care of it. There's no need to worry."

"Okay. So I'm really good to go?"

"Absolutely. My last word of advice because I've been doing this for a while and I now have two of my own, use a good lube or try it in the shower for the first few times. It makes all the difference."

You chuckled, "Thank you Doctor Calhoun, for eveything."

"If you ever decide to have more children or need a GYN, give me a call."

Dr Calhoun left the room and you collected yourself and Alexis to leave your final OB appointment for the foreseeable future.

After arriving back at your car, you placed Alexis' carseat in the base and called Kelly.

"Hey, how'd it go?" Kelly eagerly answered your call.

"Good, all cleared and good to go. You home from shift yet?"

"Just leaving 51. Meet you at home?”

"Sounds good, see you soon. Love you."

"Love you too."

—

“Kelly, you here?" You heard rustling in the bedroom.

“Yeah, hold on.”

The rustling continued.

“What are you doing?” You laughed.

“Found it,” he exited your bedroom holding a box.

He followed you to the couch, a now sleeping baby nestled in the crook of your arm.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Katie sent us some stuff from New York for Alexis.”

“Katie working today? We should FaceTime her to open it.”

“How long has Alexis been asleep?”

“Almost an hour. I fed her before my appointment and she slept the whole time.”

“How lucky are we that she’s a damn good sleeper?”

“So lucky.”

He looked at the unopened USPS box on the coffee table.

“So calling Katie?”

“Let’s do it, I’ll see if Alexis wakes up when I pick her up.”

You picked Alexis up as Kelly started the FaceTime call to his sister. Alexis awoke, but was her usual calm self as soon as she opened her eyes.

“Hi Alexis!!” Katie smiled as she answered the FaceTime call.

You took Alexis’ arm in your hand and gave Katie a little wave.

“We wanted to wait to open the package until we were with you, but I guess FaceTime will have to do,” Kelly laughed.

“Actually, let’s wait to do it until I’m there.”

“How long will that be?”

“About 30 seconds,” she giggled, knocking on your apartment door.

Kelly practically ran to open the door and hug her.

“How long has it been?” He chuckled.

“Too long,” she smiled, hugging him back.

You invited Katie in and spent the rest of the day hanging out and catching up, before finally opening the package. It was filled with NYC and Manhattan-related gifts along with a white envelope on the bottom.

“What’s in there?” You asked, curiously.

“Open it,” she smiled.

“Tickets to the Blackhawks game?” Kelly was giddy, he was so excited.

“They’re for tonight, I’ll babysit. You guys have fun,” Katie grinned.

“Katie, I- I- I don’t know what to say,” you started to tear up.

“Don’t say anything, I’m happy to do it. I’m gonna go check into my hotel and I’ll be back in time for you guys to get to the game.”

—

“Kelly are you ready?” You called into the bedroom while bopping Alexis.

“Yup, I’ll be right there.”

He walked out of the bedroom with his Blackhawks jersey in hand, wearing one of those undershirts you couldn’t help but fall in love with.

“You gonna carry that at the game too?” You giggled.

“Don’t want Alexis to spit up on it. Put it on when we leave,” he laughed, taking your daughter from your arms.

“Katie will be here in like 30 minutes. I gotta curl my hair and do my makeup and get changed.”

“Already found something for you to wear,” he smirked, “it’s on the bed.”

You walked in to the bedroom to find your Jonathan Toews jersey and your favourite pair of jeans on the bed.

"How did you know?" you laughed.

"What can I say? I know you well, babe."

You changed quickly and fixed up your curls.

"Katie's here," Kelly called.

"Be right there."

Quickly, you threw on some mascara and lip gloss before going to the living room.

"You look good babe," Kelly smiled, handing Alexis off to Katie.

You leaned over and kissed him, feeling a little more like you wanted to stay in rather than go out.

"There's, uh, breast milk in the fridge, her schedule is on the counter. Um, Sylvie's number is on the fridge in case there's any, uh, problems," your mind distracted from the kiss, you couldn’t help but giggle.

"We'll be fine. You guys have fun," Katie smiled.

You gave Alexis a hug and a kiss on the cheek, "good night baby, mommy loves you so much."

"Good night Alexis, daddy loves you to the moon and back."

Watching Kelly love Alexis was something that made you fall in love with him more and more. Having a stable husband with whom you shared a child with was something you dreamt of since high school.

Kelly grabbed his jersey and followed you out the door.

Walking out of the United Center back to Kelly's car, you were exilerated, but exhasted. The Blackhawks had just snapped their 5 game losing streak, and won with a 4-0 shoutout. That was the perfect end to your first night out after becoming parents.

"How you feeling?" Kelly asked, "you up for Molly's or are you done for the night?"

You stopped at the car, leaning into Kelly for a kiss, "What about something else?" you smiled.

"You up for that? You just got cleared today," he asked, kissing your neck. He knew you wouldn't say anything unless you were ready.

"Bassinet is finally in Alexis' room. Seems like a great time to test things out again."

"You look so good tonight baby, we'll do whatever you want," he smiled as he went back in for another kiss.

The traffic home was a nightmare, but by the time you got to the apartment, you were ready for anything.

"We're home," you smiled, opening the apartment door.

Katie was asleep on the couch, but woke at the sound of your shoes coming through the door.

"How'd it go?" You asked, going to check the baby monitor.

"Been up every 3 hours since you guys left, but she just went down about a half hour ago if you guys want to get some sleep," she yawned, packing up her purse.

“You need a ride to the hotel?” Kelly asked.

“I have an uber a few minutes away, but thank you.”

“I have another day before I’m back on shift, wanna meet up and do something tomorrow?”

“That sounds great, I’ll text you guys when I’m ready for the day.”

You and Kelly both hugged Katie before seeing her out of the apartment. You watched her get on the elevator and then locked the door behind you as you entered the apartment.

“Shower or bed?” You laughed, pulling him closer for a kiss by the collar on his jersey.

“Whatever you want baby,” he chuckled, pulling your jersey off, “it’s your night.”

You grabbed Kelly by the hand and led him into the master en suite. The bathroom door clicked shut and Alexis started to cry.

“Shit,” you started to laugh, resting your head on his chest.

“I’ll get her, put her back down. I’ll met you in there in a few.”

Kelly left the bathroom for the nursery and you started the water. Throwing your clothes on the counter, your hand brushed by your scar. Healed up and mostly pain free, it was still a reminder of what had to be done to bring Alexis into the world. You stepped in the shower, wincing at the feel of the water being a tad too cold, and turned the temperature to more suit the steamy theme of the evening. Kelly returned, already having left his jersey in the other room.

“How’s the baby?” You asked.

“Good, pacifier fell out of her mouth.” He mindlessly undid his jeans and removed the tank covering his chest. He looked back towards the shower.

“Damn, you’re-“ he was almost breathless. The two of you had been intimate all throughout your pregnancy, but the morning sickness wasn’t as attractive as you naked in the shower.

“You gonna join me?” You didn’t have to ask twice, he was gonna obey the first time.

He finished undressing and practically leapt into the shower. With a flick of the wrist, he tipped your chin up to make eye contact with him. Backing you in the shower’s wall, he placed his other hand on the tile for support. He leaned in and the passionate kisses began shortly after.

#kelly severide imagine #kelly severide fic #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide #chicago fire fic #chicago fire #chicago fire x reader #one Chicago #one chicago fic #Baby Severide fic #kelly severide x you

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youthereader · 9 months

Text

Near Zero part 1.

pairing: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader

summary: 2.8k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

rating: eventually E (no smut in this part); age gap (10+ years), infidelity, period-typical sexism

a/n: Though based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character. This is not intended to be historically accurate, merely written as entertainment. This is my first reader fic ever, so please be kind! Many thanks to @indulgence-be-thy-name for encouraging me and helping iron out wrinkled ideas.

part 2. 3.* 4. 5. 6.* 7.*

When you see him now, he’s so different to the last time, but he’s unmistakably the same man. Now, he wears a broad hat and carries a pipe as he approaches you in the empty room.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” he says, and his smile opens him up completely.

He extends a hand as you rise to meet him. Your things are being sorted thoroughly somewhere out back, but you still hold onto your coat and matching pocketbook. Los Alamos feels like another world, so remote that you hadn’t expected the town to be built here, with roads and people swarming. It is a living, breathing thing you’ve somehow managed to stumble into, it feels.

“Dr. Oppenheimer,” you reply, shaking his hand. “I didn’t know if you were meeting me.”

“Wouldn’t want to miss it,” he replies, though he sounds distracted. “What do you know?”

Hardly any pleasantries, which you expected. In the years of knowing him, Dr. Oppenheimer didn’t get to know you as your professor, and certainly not as anything else outside of the classroom. You had not subscribed to the Cult of Oppie, and not necessarily out of choice.

Though there were women studying theoretical and experimental physics, they were few and far between. Since leaving high school, you had understood that to be taken seriously, you could not act like a man. The few friends you had in high school often teased you about your lack of grace, your ability to be covered in chalk dust at any given time, and your unwavering standoffish nature.

You belong in a think tank, not on a podium proclaiming these theories. You could work in a team, which was why you supposed your name came up for this.

“My country needs me,” you reply.

He smiles again, somewhat smaller. His eyes survey you a beat longer and you swallow, picturing your hair windswept and unruly from the train journey. You might smell of sweat, you hadn’t showered since yesterday and came straight here when you let yourself known to security.

“And your country will be glad to have you. Have a seat.”

He gestures to a desk and chair, waiting for you to sit. The silence stretches and you feel his eyes on you. You’re wearing your best dress and your nails match your lipstick. Though you were given little context about being summoned here, it felt like a job interview from the telegram you received a few days ago.

The last time he saw you, you dressed like someone that didn’t care about making a good impression.

To stamp down any nerves, you pluck your cigarettes case from your pocketbook, fishing one out. A lit match appears as you put a cigarette between your lips, Dr. Oppenheimer’s hand cupping the flame as you lean in.

“Mm, thank you,” you murmur. You exhale, watching as he pulls back, extinguishing it with a short puff of air.

He stares down at the burnt-out match for a couple seconds before he looks back at you again, his brows furrowing.

“This opportunity means reaching beyond what we have before scientifically,” he says, and you take another pull from your cigarette.

You speak around your smoke. “This is to do with Nazi weapons, isn’t it.”

“They split the atom,” he replies, and you nod. “And since you’re here, it means you’ve been cleared to be part of our great endeavour.”

The ‘our’ would be ‘his’ to a lot of people. You know better, having seen the hundreds of people outside.

“I need like-minded people,” he says.

You rub the tip of your thumb and forefinger together absently, frowning. You were the first to admit that you had very little in your life besides your work, and that hadn’t been plentiful since war broke out. Belatedly, it occurs to you that he’s referring to your intelligence.

“What could I contribute? I wasn’t one of your best.”

“You were,” he amends, lowering his voice a little. “You just didn’t participate outside of a school building. You were invited.”

Your eyes swing to meet his and you recall that Oppie reputation, that he was a womanizer underneath the genius. It never meant to be aimed towards you, that charm. Or so you assumed.

“I’m not the type to enjoy crowds,” you reply. “It’s a character flaw of mine.”

You were speaking just like your parents, the ones that had not encouraged you to pursue academia. Being a homemaker, someone with a reliable husband was what they wanted for you.

“Would you have come, if I asked you to, personally?” he asks.

His question throws you, and you stammer out: “N-now, or back then?”

“I asked for you both times,” he says.

For the first time, you blush. Hoping he ignores this, you smoke some more to clear your head. You had almost forgotten about his ability to make you flustered.

“If you asked me to come to a class party personally, I would have said yes,” you admit.

You dare to glance his way again, stomach flipping. So much for being a more polished version of yourself, you’re back to being mousey and strange under those intense eyes.

“That’s a pity,” he murmurs. “But I’m glad you’re here now.”

In the days and weeks to follow, it’s quickly made clear that there’s no leaving Los Alamos. Your residence is between a series of identical houses. The house itself is barely larger than your living quarters you remember from college. A cramped bedroom, a washroom, and a kitchenette. Nowhere to entertain to speak of, but it was still a privilege to have your own space. Your neighbors to your left are a young family of three, and to your right, there are two secretaries related to fellow scientists.

You keep to yourself. You opt for a long letter to your parents explaining very little about the new role here. You’re certain your letters are read by someone along the way for obvious reasons, and explaining it all tires you anyway.

Being a part of something as insular as this takes some adjusting to say the least. There is no escaping without being noticed, as there are guards all over. You overhear town gossip without meaning to; the tiny bubble you circle over and over is both thrilling and stifling. Everything feels pressurized in those first couple days in your new home especially. You sit on your new bed with your hands in your lap, cigarette perpetually lit in times like these.

You leave early the morning you’re expected in the department, unable to delay the inevitable any longer. You’re not the only one with this drive, walking into the main laboratory (a wide room with desks in rows with a blackboard at the back) to find several men already seated, chatting with one another.

You pause, waiting as their attention diverts to you. You recognize a few of them from professional acquaintance, whereas others you’ve only known by reputation. The air shifts, and you feel very out of place.

“Good morning,” you say, voice soft, controlled.

You wish to be invisible, which was why your clothes were far demurer than what you arrived in earlier that week. Admittedly, you did agonize over your hair for perhaps longer than necessary, but you’re glad you haven’t done childish braids or nothing at all. There’s a fine line to tread with these men; being attractive but not ostentatious is usually the aim. From what you’ve learned over the years, not caring about your appearance tends to backfire in terms of being taken seriously.

You don’t agree with any of this, of course. No-one should be judged on their appearance in terms of their intelligence or whether they’re worth listening to. Unfortunately, this is just the game you must play, especially in academia.

Your eyes catch various reactions, some eyes lighting up with recognition, others perplexed. Some might not have seen you in years and don’t remember you at all, which is fair. You never strove to be known; your work is what mattered.

A couple men come forward to shake your hand, pleased to see you. You ignore the way a few pairs of eyes dip to your exposed ankles. You’re scanned and assessed, and whether you’re found wanting is forgotten, for you feel the touch of someone’s hand on your arm and turn your head towards the source.

“Oppie. Back in one piece!” someone calls out.

You stare at the side of Dr. Oppenheimer’s face, your arm burning from where he touched you to slip past. Had he been that close behind you on your way there? You don’t think you could have missed him, though you were preoccupied with your thoughts.

“Yes. Well rested and ready to get back to work,” he replies, striding towards the front.

He doesn’t look your way, doesn’t acknowledge you in the slightest, which is fine. It’s not out of the ordinary, and so you sit down on the edge of the group, ankles together under your desk.

“Oppie the Rancher, I don’t see it.”

You can. His hat reminds you of a frontiersman. You can picture him staring out across the desert on his horse, reins in hand.

“A night under the stars can do wonders for your mind, Richard,” Oppenheimer retorts, pointing with his pipe. “You should try it sometime.”

The men banter and you sink into your observer role with ease. At least they’re not acting that differently with a woman present. As more people fill the room, you relax into your chair with your notebook and pen at the ready.

You stand as Dr. Bethe enters, shaking his hand. You will report to him, the head of the theoretical division. Once he takes a seat, the noise dissipates, and Oppenheimer launches into the meeting.

You will have to play catch-up for some time, but it’s not altogether intimidating. You know you can dedicate all your time to this, since you have no family staying here.

Days are spent with your head full of equations. You drink cups of drip coffee over and over, and ashtrays are filled and emptied. You are among a team of theorists assigned to a specific task by Bethe, whose own intellect is dedicated to your cause.

The goal is to solve the issue of nitrogen fusing into magnesium, or, to understand the probability of the nitrogen atoms fusing. There isn’t data on this, and so you must calculate for this occurring every time a fission bomb would detonate. Every time, there is a chance that the bomb would cause a chain reaction.

You write out the calculations like everyone else, and each conclusion is the same. There is a chance that the atmosphere itself may ignite.

Everyone else begs for rest, but your mind won’t give you relief. You chain smoke, standing in front of the blackboard with your chalk aloft, as the world darkens around you. You ignore your rumbling stomach, finishing the calculation again with a short sigh. Stepping back, you hear:

“What are you doing here?”

You turn your head to see Oppenheimer standing by the doorway, lips parting at the sight of your face, his hat in his hand. He walks over, glancing at the board behind you.

“It’s the same,” he says, eyes darting left to right.

“I’ve done this ten times,” you murmur. “Theory always leaves near zero chance of catastrophe.”

“Near zero,” he repeats, pulling in a breath. “Yes, I know.”

The weight of this is as much a reality to you as a theory, since this isn’t a classroom back in California, but a laboratory equipped with hundreds of scientific minds all working to build the same weapon. There are marbles representing very real plutonium in the fishbowl six feet away from you.

“I don’t wish to be an alarmist,” you add.

He looks at you again, eyes dipping to your mouth, and you feel a stir beneath your navel. To your surprise, he gives a small smile, but it’s not condescending. You’ve seen him give those out plenty before but have yet to receive one yourself.

“Your fears are valid, though not entirely necessary,” he murmurs. “I just got back from Michigan. I left in a panic about theory. But theory can only take you so far.”

You recall not seeing him for a couple days, though you are prone to missing others when you’re stuck in your own head. Oppenheimer is the exception, always.

He moves to lean against the desk beside you and you follow him, perching yourself at the edge as he looks down at his hat.

“I needed to speak to Compton about the potential chain reaction, of course there’s no possibility of speaking about it on the telephone-”

“So, you took a train all the way to see him?” you ask, and he nods. “But now you seem calm.”

“Not calm,” he says, though his voice is level. “More understanding that there’s a 3-in-a-million chance of total apocalypse.”

Those chances, though conceptually low, are not non-existent. You watch as he glances up at you once more, the air leaving the room. His eyes implore you.

“Near zero.”

“Near zero,” he echoes, his voice a near whisper. He places his hat back on his head.

You push off the desk and pick up the eraser, beginning to wipe the board clean of your calculations. When you finish, you look over at him again, frowning.

“If you’re more understanding, why are you here?”

It’s possible he didn’t go home because he needed to work this all out, like you. He keeps staring back at you, intimidating you as always, causing heat to rise at the back of your neck. In the low light, you hope it’s undetectable.

“The light was on. I saw you through the window.”

You swallow, ducking your head. “Oh.”

You place the eraser back on the ledge, and the space between you seems to shrink though neither of you move. You might be imagining the way he takes you in. He’s the director, and he has valid concerns for his staff.

But you’re no fool. His gaze is too familiar, especially when he nods at you, saying:

“Grab your things. I’ll work you out.”

You obey, following him out, switching off the light along the way. As you walk together down the halls, your footsteps echoing, you smell him beside you. He is tobacco, and body odour. Nothing sharp or unpleasant, but intimate, a semi-sweet musk. You smell the dust on his jacket and think of him sitting astride his horse with that thousand-yard stare.

You exit the building with nods to the guards, bringing you back to the present. You don’t want to leave him there in the street, but his residence is nowhere near yours as far as you know. You think of his wife, not for the first time, and wonder what he tells her about what they’re doing here.

“I’m this way,” you murmur.

Oppenheimer doesn’t respond how you expect, walking beside you for a few minutes instead of leaving you to find your way home alone. The silence between you in companionable, not strained, which feels like a miracle to you. From memory, he has never been someone you had a poor encounter with. It feels like a fluke, but statistically, it makes sense.

Your head still reels with equations, probabilities, and dire consequences. The chances of sleeping are so low, but you still wish him goodnight when you arrive at your residence.

There are people in the street, some glancing your way, seeing him and wave. He lifts a hand but doesn’t greet them further. He waits, watching you try to figure out how to leave him.

“Try to sleep.”

“I don’t know how likely that is,” you admit, turning back to him.

His hands are on his hips, and he smiles knowingly.

“I need you sharp tomorrow.”

You stand so close to one another now that his voice is low, the intimacy of the moment spreading over you.

“You’re no longer Sisyphus, you can rest.”

You think about pointing out the hypocrisy of this. You doubt he finds it easy to sleep at night, under the stars or otherwise.

“I think it’s more like the incy wincy spider,” you say, emboldened by his proximity to you. “Not quite as tragic.”

He chuckles and you smile back at him. He steps back, nodding a little. “Have a good night.”

He waits for you to go to your door, and you open it, glancing back at him for a moment. His smile returns, an understanding shade to his eyes.

“Remember the sun comes out again,” he calls.

He takes off, and you shut the front door behind you, leaning your forehead against it as you exhale.

Thank you for reading! 🖤 Likes, reblogs and replies are always appreciated and genuinely motivate me. 🥺

#oppenheimer x y/n #oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #fem reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #near zero

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infinitegalahad · 10 months

Text

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - EPILOGUE

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

Marriage Certificate

Jurisdiction: Charlottesville, Virginia

Certificate Number: MCS123456789

Date of Marriage: June 1st, 1955

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

Groom:

Name: Julius Robert Oppenheimer

Date of Birth: April 22, 1904

Residence: 91 Olden Lane

Bride:

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

Date of Birth: (Y/dob), 1921

Residence: 105 Ivy Dr

Marriage Ceremony:

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

Officiant: Dr. Allen Hill

Title: Authorized Officiant

Witnesses:

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

Address: 10 Pennsylvania Avenue

Name: Hatomi Haruka Yamamoto-Bell

Address: 600 Dittmar Oaks

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

Signatures:

_____________________________ _____________________________

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

Groom's Signature Bride's Signature

_____________________________

Dr. Allen Hill

Officiant's Signature

_____________________________ _____________________________

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

Witness's Signature Witness's Signature

Seal: City of Charlottesville, Virginia

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But bliss is temporal, not everlasting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Oppie?”

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

“Can you please read this to me?”

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

“Y/n?”

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

“Yes, Robert?”

“I love you, y/n”

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

“I love you too, Robert.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Robert smiles at you.

Your heart skips a beat.

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

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

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hanasnx · 2 years

Text

-ˏ͛ ꒷꒰ dc comics ⿻ m.list ꒷ˏ͛-

MINORS DNI 18+ ༄

"Athair ar Neamh, Dia liom / Sacramentum eo deo." — Enya. (1995). Pax Deorum.

彡 ch: bruce wayne 「 � 」

── one shots ┆ OVER 1K.

smut ¡! ❞

✩ mercury: retrograde | SUMMARY: after your failed attempt to recover the last pieces of joker present in the victims of his diseased blood donation, you discover a mystery about the batman in both body and spirit.

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ nineteenyearold!reader ✩ sugar daddy ✩ young!

── headcanons ┆ LIST OR NARRATION.

smut ¡! ❞

✩ kinks

other ¡! ❞

✩ headcanons

彡 ch: dick grayson 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ facial ✩ stretches

彡 ch: terry mcginnis 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ ripped tights ✩ your voice

other ¡! ❞

✩ maybe i should step in ✩ wii date

── headcanons ┆ LIST OR NARRATION.

other ¡! ❞

✩ "your voice" headcanons

彡 ch: jason todd 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smut ¡! ❞

✩ baby daddy! part three ✩ parent-teacher conference

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ code mistake ✩ mean ✩ sweet gf ✩ doctor!reader ✩ slapping ✩ thigh fucking ✩ daddy! ✩ dry humping ✩ one night stand ✩ no filter

other ¡! ❞

✩ jacket ✩ baby daddy! part two

── headcanons ┆ LIST OR NARRATION.

smut ¡! ❞

✩ baby daddy!

彡 ch: talon 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ drabble

彡 ch: dr. manhattan 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ drabble

彡 ch: wally west 「 � 」

── headcanons ┆ LIST OR NARRATION.

other ¡! ❞

✩ wayne!reader

彡 ch: reader x bruce wayne x dick grayson x jason todd 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

other ¡! ❞

✩ drabble | part two

彡 ch: nanaue x louise lincoln 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ drabble

彡 ch: j'onn j'onzz 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smut ¡! ❞

✩ shapeshifter

NAVI | M.LIST | RULES | FAQ

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yandere-toons · 1 year

Text

Soo I'm back with some more watchmen headcanons! I submitted some more before but tbh I like the ones here more lol. Enjoy! I'm tempted to try to write some romantic Rorschach ones too, he's such a complicated character to think about when it comes to writing but it'd be a fun challenge to write him in a romantic context.

-I think Watchmen would have ended differently if platonic yandere Ozymandias took reader from the rest of the platonic yandere characters so they wouldn't have to be in New York when he enacts his plan? I don't know if Rorschach would've asked Dr Manhattan to kill him if he knew reader was being held against their will, and idk if Dr Manhattan would've left if he knew reader was in trouble too. Maybe there would be one final conflict between everybody?

-The original Silk Spectre and Nite Owl would definitely spoil the crap out of reader. I can see them both telling reader about their old days as heros

-The comedian would definitely want reader to know some of his old tricks, he'd definitely have the potential to be a horrible influence on them, which is definitely one of the main factors as to why Ozymandias killed him.

-I feel like even before Rorschach snapped after the kidnapping of the little girl, he'd still be pretty protective of reader. Nite owl would worry a lot about them, he'd be like a worrying mother lmao

-If the reader had superpowers, I could see that being a driving factor for Dr Manhattan being fascinated by them, for once he'd feel like he almost has an equal. I imagine the characters would be varying degrees of paranoid about reader's safety as a superpowered person. They wouldn't want to see reader be turned essentially into a government weapon like what happened with Dr Manhattan. Rorschach would probably have the most extreme reaction, he'd probably just straight up kidnap them and isolate them from the rest of the world "foR thEiR saFETy" because he's unstable like that and we all love him for it

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betyloca · 4 months

Text

stains and spiders

warnings: harassment / violence / xenophobia / rudeness

summary: while investigating the death of the comedian in New York City you come across a certain masked man with spots

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was noon in New York City. You were going straight to work. You were walking among people as if you were a ghost in your backpack. You were carrying new photos for a story for the newspaper about last night's events. Photos of a dead man. It was Edward Blake, known as the comedian .

As you turned a corner you ran into a man who was carrying a sign saying the end is nigh as you passed by him you felt like he was seeing you out of the corner of his eye.

When you got to work, you were bothered by the sound of people running everywhere. You went as quickly as possible to your boss's office, opening the door.

jackson: y/n people are hysterical and I'm starting to lose patience if you have photos of robberies I don't want anything

Y/N: Well, I bring you something better, photos of robberies.

jackson: celebrities better leave

y/n: of the murder of Edward Blake

Jackson: What-

You hand him the photos while he inspects them

jackson: edward blake must have been an idiot to get killed

y/n: it was the comedian

Jackson: The comedian, Ross, we have the front page. I want him to say, "Are they marrying the vigilantes?" y/n you pay 400 dollars now go away

You took your pay and left his office, handing the photos to Rosita.

Rosita: They are good shots.

passing the photos

y/n: thank you

You hear familiar footsteps as you roll your eyes.

Robert: good photos y/n but I would like photos of you with little clothes

giggle: you are a disgusting robert

Robert: I would like you too.

y/n: better look

Robert: He'll look for me, I know.

while he leaves

Rosita: It's unbearable

y/n: I know see you

You tell him as you grab your backpack and leave.

Rosita: Take care

As you left the building you couldn't get your boss's words out of your head. Are they hunting the guards? You would have to be more alert than you always were in a corrupt city full of crimes, you learned to be alert.

Heading to your apartment when you entered you decided to call your friend to see if you were okay.

y/n: carajo, answer dan

Dan: Hello, who's speaking?

y/n: daniel thank god you're free tonight

Dan: Yes, everything is fine.

Y/N: I'll give it to you at night, I'll go to your house.

Dan: It's okay, you're always welcome.

y/n: okay

You hung up the phone, letting out a sigh. You knew something was happening. You ran and grabbed your suit that was in your closet, putting it in your backpack. You left the building, walking through the streets, watching people pass by as if their lives were less complicated.

x: Hey woman, we don't want more Latinos here, go to your country.

you dodge the can of beer that I throw at you

*what an idiot* you thought it happened to you often you just continued on your way towards an abandoned building while you were there you went somewhere to change into your spider suit after putting it on you jumped out of the window swinging across the buildings reaching the highest one to sit down and contemplate the sunset and take note of the possible murderers of the comedian

~~~~~•~~~~~~~•~~~~~

Night had fallen you stared at the stars thinking *okay enough* you thought getting up you looked at how high you were and jumped down you felt the wind hitting your face before shooting your spider web you lowered your mask swinging to Daniel's house

When you arrived you saw the open window of his room and you entered inspecting the area you saw a framed photo of you and Daniel were friends before you became vigilant you had the photo in your hands until you heard the knock of the door you immediately put the photo on the nightstand and started to climb the walls to the ceiling crawling with your camouflage you headed towards the sound coming from the kitchen you saw through the half open door a masked man eating a can of beans what *damn* you thought

You sneaked into the kitchen when the door closed making a noise. The man immediately lowered his mask, becoming alert.

x: who is there?

y/n: who are you?

x: enough games, where are you?

y/n: I like to play

You said, hanging by one hand from the ceiling behind the man.

y/n: I like to play fights

x: then you're going to like me

You kicked him, making him fall to the ground, deactivating your camouflage.

x: spider ghost?

y/n: spider for my amigos

You said, releasing a blow, he dodged it, kicking you in the stomach, making you fall immediately. You threw cobwebs at him, making him fall and getting on top of him.

y/n: who are you and what are you doing here?

x: I'm Rorschach, tell me what you see here

He says as he punches you in the face.

y/n: grrrrhh I see a son of a bitch

You say while you kick him, sending him away from you, he stands up looking at you.

rorschach: you have great strength

while he puts himself on guard just like you

You hear footsteps going to the kitchen, you knew what it was

y/n: dan don't come

~~~~~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~~~~~

Observe this clown who thought he was vigilant, putting himself on guard just like her until he became alert.

spider:dan don't come

I heard her say, did she say Dan's name? Did she know him? who was

I saw that the door had opened revealing Daniel

Dan: What's happening?

She put an arm in front of him protectively.

spider: don't do what

Dan: calm down, the rorschach, an old friend, everything is fine.

I saw how he lowered his arm little by little while still being alert. I saw Dan walk towards the middle of the two.

Dan: It's good to see you.

Rorschach: I have to talk to you, I think they are hunting us.

dan: what rorsc-

rorschach: Edward blake was the comedian they murdered him I think any of us follow

dan:rorschach I think you're a little paranoid

rorschach: they call me paranoid now

Spider: If you are paranoid, I am too because that is why I came to tell you that, Daniel.

The voltie e ver also: Was he researching the comedian? I was starting to get curious

Maybe it wasn't ink after all or maybe it's with those who made this.

Rorschach: How long have you known her?

dan: since before the Watchmen disbanded

rorschach: why didn't you mention that you were friends with a boy who plays watchman?

Spider: Hello, I'm still here and for your correction I don't play vigilante and I've kicked more ass than the damn police.

She said she could hear the anger in her voice she had to admit she had some fire inside her.

dan: okay okay don't fight in my house please

She turned to see me, crossing her arms.

spider: sorry dan

Dan: Rorschach I didn't tell you why it was a secret I promised Spidy

She said as she walked towards the basement followed by Spider and I saw her shake her head, apparently holding back a curl.

Spider: You promised not to use that nickname in front of others.

dan: sorry

Arriving at the basement she begins to walk towards the tunnel

dan: the vigilantes are over and they should lead a normal life, you should leave this spider and you too rorschach

I saw how she tensed up when Dan said the word "normal life." She turned to look at him, her hands were in the shape of fists.

rorschach: do you think you are normal listening to human cockroaches talking about heroin and child pornography tell me dan do you feel normal

Dan: At least I'm not hiding behind a mask.

I was going to answer her until she spoke.

spider: don't give, you hide in plain sight, take care, dan

With that last thing, she walked away, I followed her, I wasn't going to stay any longer, I had to tell Manhattan and Lauriel about what was happening, she stopped at the exit and turned to see me.

Spider: Hey manchitas , I don't like you that much, but if others think you're paranoid, just look for me, it's better to be with another paranoid.

I stared at her, I didn't trust her, but if Manhattan didn't believe me, I had few options.

Spider: I also have a suspect.

Rorschach: Who?

spider: moloch

Rorschach: Good.

spider: ok comrade it's a date

She said as she left I watched her go and I did the same as I walked I thought maybe it wasn't such a bad idea it would be interesting

~~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~

When I walked away from Dan's house I kept thinking about this Rorschach guy if Dan trusts him to break into his house like that maybe I too okay it's time to get ready to see my old friend Moloch

*please I hope you're not in trouble* I thought to myself I hope you're not confused leaving that aside I hope Rorschach finds allies

#x reader #the watchmen #rorschach x reader #walter kovacs x reader #spiderman #reader spider #watchmen 2009 #spiderverse fanart #Spotify #dr manhattan #silk spectre #moloch #nite owl ll #rorschach #walter kovacs #no one asked for this

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queenshelby · 10 months

Text

Chemical Reactions (P. 13)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut

Words: 4,566

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

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

Two weeks later…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ten minutes later…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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anuncalledbridge · 1 year

Text

Leap of faith

Summary: you didn't expect you'd be pulled into a verse where there is no Avenger, no Peter, and no Ned.

Pairing: Miles Morales x (half filo) Stark!reader

Warning: knife, cursing, cursing in tagalog, violence, mention of death.

Previous part

It has been two days since you've been pulled by that strange portal. By some mysterious matter, Gwen and you somehow got into visions academy, an academy which you heard are only for the rich and intelligent kids. Vision Academy wasn't hard and it wasn't easy either but you could manage same goes for Gwen, she was rather exceptional herself.

When night falls you always find yourself feeling alone, sure Gwen was there but she is either sleeping or completely ignoring you. You miss home, you missed your dad, that's the only thing you and Gwen had in common, missing home.

You grabbed your suit deciding to sneak out, you looked at Gwen "wanna go for a swing?" You asked, she was burying her nose in a book "No, I feel tired" she lazily replied.

"Suit yourself, pinkie" You jump from your two-story building and shot a web on a building. You were too deep in your thoughts as you swing. Yesterday you went to visit Manhattan and found absolutely nothing. Manhattan looked so empty without the avenger tower.

There was a spider person like you in this verse but to your surprise, it was a guy, there was no explanation as to how any of this happened but since you got here you made it upon yourself to make some sort of device to get yourself home but it was quite complicated than you thought. The multiverse was somehow in shambles, you hoped that Dr. Strange finds a way to fix this while you were trying to go home.

You sat on a tower watching the city lights; you sat there for a while, thinking of something, anything other than this madness.

You got bored eventually and just decided to look around, your line of sight traveled to each civilian until it landed on a lady being mugged by someone.

"Okay! Need to get these pent-up feelings out!" You stretched your limp arms then you started to shoot your web to the next building.

"Woo! " You shouted, dodging a huge truck as you made your way to the crime "Help-- help me please!" The lady sounded so defeated her broken sobs were heard a mile away making you pick up your pace.

"Ain't it a bit rude, interrupting her well-deserved walk?" You spoke out of nowhere, making the culprit look up from his current position "Who are you!?" He shouted, quite terrified seeing a new sight other than their local hero.

"That's what they always say" You jump from a small building then you started to walk over to him "Never, 'oh! How are you amazing spider-woman?' you know what I mean? No?" You taunted.

"Stay where you are! Or else this bitch dies" he gruffly grabbed the woman's arm as he pointed the knife at her neck.

You gasp "Calling a woman 'bitch'? How would your mother feel if he saw you right now? Pushing you out of her vajayjay must've been a huge disappointment" You clicked your tongue in feigned disappointment.

"Oh well! There's nothing we could do about that" You shrugged. You swiftly shoot your web at the girl, successfully pulling her to you as she yelps at the process.

The culprit backed away dropping his knife and sprinting for his dear like "Hey! Where are your manners!" You shouted.

You were about to go after him but then a silhouette suddenly appeared in front of him catching him off guard, before he knew it he was already stuck on a wall, webs all over his body.

You saw Spiderman right there in front of you, he was talking to the culprit about something then his sight averted to you.

"Saw your little stunt, who are you?" He asked as he inch his way towards you "Ha? no no English." You tried to salvage this situation with your god-awful accent only to receive a laugh "No need to hide, heard you talking about pushing someone out of there-- you know how it goes" he winced.

The lady from earlier had already left after thanking you, so it was just the both of you plus the culprit who was on the wall "Who are you?" He asked again "tangina, papatayin ako ni Gwen nito" (fuck, Gwen is gonna kill me) you muttered. It didn't bother you much but Gwen, Oh dear.

Peter didn't understand a thing you just said, the only thing he caught was the name 'Gwen' "Whose Gwen?" He asked

"No one! It's nice doing business with you Mr. Daddy long legs!" Before you got time to swing your ass to Gwen he said something and you froze.

"I'm Peter, Peter Parker." The deafening silence made Peter uncomfortable a bit. In your verse Peter wasn't the Spiderman, instead, he had lived a pretty normal nerdy life and was your best friend who was obsessed with the star wars lore and Legos.

This Peter was much older than you, you can tell. Peter took off his mask and it completely left your mouth hanging open. Instead of luscious dark brown curly hair, he was blonde, and as you guess he was much much older than you.

"Is this what old age does to you!? Turn you blonde?!" You gestured your hands around him in exaggeration "Time has not been good to you, babes" Peter was offended for all he knows, he was perfect.

"She can talk.." he muttered. "No this isn't fair" he shook his head with a furrowed brow. "I don't know your name and your Identity" he sighs, looking at you expectedly "Oh! Right. Wait a minute, barbie"

"I'm pretty gorgeous so be warned" It feels like you were revealing yourself in a Roblox group chat with a bunch of kids that you and your Peter tried to prank. you pushed the nanotechnology spider logo on your suit and there reveals your face.

"Im--"

"Y/n!"

You didn't expect this...Peter, not your Peter, engulfed you in a tight hug, making you stumble back "O-okay.." you awkwardly said not knowing where to put your hands.

For what felt like minutes he started to sob "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" his breath was ragged if mistaken he'd have a panic attack "Dude, hey...what happened?" You finally asked.

Peter pulled away from you, as he wiped off his tears "I thought you...d-died" he had a hard time looking at you, guilt pooled in his eyes "whaaatt?" You dragged your word, still not processing his statement.

He chuckled softly but the pain is evidently still there "You're mistaken, Peter. I'm not from here, I just happen to stumble here"

"What?" He asked finally discarding his previous feeling "I was pulled by something close to a black hole, which terrified the hell out of me by the way" Peter paced around, still not meeting your gaze, afraid that if he did, he might cry again.

"Kingpin.." he muttered, he was thinking for a while then he finally looked up at you "Wait, how come you're here early? He didn't activate the machine yet" his voice was painted with confusion and a tinge bit of solemnity.

"Beats me, but that is a horrible name" You made a face of disgust while Peter smiled fondly, seemingly remembering something that includes you "You're still the same y/n, well except for the part where you spoke in a different language" that made you smile, although you have no idea what you're getting yourself into or who this exact copy of you is.

"Wanna grab a coffee or something?" You asked, as you ready yourself to swing "at this hour? Sure, why not" he put on his mask and with a last nod he took off swinging, you following behind him.

----

"You married Mj?!" You gaped at him, shaking his head as he took a bite of his burger "Yeah I did, she helped me a lot since... you know" he looked down at the city, he was trying to say something but he was having a hard getting it out; finally he let out a long sigh then he looked at you. "Y-you were too young when you died, Y/n. I couldn't forgive myself"

"Hey, it's not your fault. Even if it's not me I know she won't blame you either." You rub comfort on his back, you don't know a single thing about comforting.

Peter's usual demeanor came back after a few words of horrible comforting and encouragement, and you think he finally has the closure he deserves.

You told him everything about the verse you live in, from the Avengers to your Peter and your father.

"Wait, so this Captain America guy, is always on your 'ass' because you're being too unnecessarily loud?" He questioned "Yes! Good thing I can curse in my own language so he's got nothing on my ass... although he found out one day, didn't hear the end of it. My dad was a snitch" you muttered the last part.

Peter laughed "Your suit is awesome by the way," He asked "I made it!" You smugly said. Peter let out a huff in amusement. "You? You made it?" He said as if he didn't believe your statement but he knew full well that you were capable of making something like that.

You scoffed "Of course I did, I mean how couldn't I?" Peter rolled his eyes at you, he then averted his gaze back to the city. Hanging out with Peter made you miss your Peter more; Sure they were different in so many ways but they somehow share the same traits.

"I've got to go Peter" You sat up from your position, as Peter did the same following your action "See you around?" He asked, "Of course!" You outstretched your hand for a fistbump and he gladly reciprocated.

You both went your separate ways, as you continued to swing back to your dorm. The whole way there you were thinking about how you're gonna tell Gwen this but that didn't really register when you arrived back at your dorm.

Will you're not inside your dorm, more like outside banging the hell out of the window "Gwen! Open this window right now!" You shouted but not too loud, careful to not wake up your dorm neighbor "Hoy Gwen! Anak nang- open this right now Gwen!" (Hey Gwen! Son of a-- open this right now Gwen) You groaned.

Gwen wasn't asleep, you can clearly see the light from your shared bedroom. To no avail, you just decided to give up "tangina, mandaan moto Gwen!" (son of a bitch, mark this day Gwen!) You spoke lastly as you tried to find a window that can access the hall, you just hoped the security guard was asleep.

You found one "Take that Gwen!" You muttered. You already took off your mask and covered your suit with a jacket. You gently closed the window as carefully as you could to not cause some attention. You smiled to yourself "'Another night another slay and I served--" and you spoke too soon.

You felt someone crash into you but you didn't fall it just surprised you, but the person who bummed you did. Miles groaned as he tried to focus his vision, he swore a huge guy must've bummed into him but then he looked up.

"Oh"

"Are you okay, wait-- are you sneaking out?" You asked as you help him up "N-no" he stuttered. He regained his balance then he finally got a good look at you.

Your hair was disheveled and you got a bag forming under your eye but you still look good, at least that's what you think about yourself.

You hummed looking at him suspiciously "Right..." He looked anywhere, avoiding your observant eyes "I-- uh, I was trying to--" he rubbed his neck with his dominant hand while his other hand was gesturing around.

You laughed "Dude relax, I'm not gonna snitch on you-- unless you're trying to snitch on me" You feigned seriousness "No! I-I swear I will not!" He replied almost immediately.

"I'm just playing with you, but if you don't want to get caught, don't go this hall if you're trying to sneak out"

"Then why are you here?"

You pursed your lips and clicked your tongue "I- you-" Miles knitted his brow together, awaiting your reply. You let out a sigh.

"you know what? I think I'm gonna snitch on you" You narrowed your eyes at him. Miles laughed, his previous nervous demeanor decapitated and instead, he tried to cover it up with faux confidence.

"you can't do that now, can you? I'm Miles Morales." he smiled. He had that kind smile that can make you melt.

"You're new, right? I-- I'm actually new too" You noticed he was growing nervous. You nodded "I guess...I saw what your dad did earlier" you smirked, as he groaned in embarrassment.

"Please don't make me remember that," he said with an exaggerated sigh. The scene between Miles and his Dad brought a frown across your face, it awfully reminded you of your dad.

"Oh, I doubt that. That's gonna stick with you as long as I'm near" You started to walk as he followed after you.

"I never caught your name--"

"Probably because, I didn't throw it, Morales" you blatantly said. Miles rolled his eyes a growing smile made its way to his lips.

"I didn't mean it like that, and just call me by my first name, it's weird" You chuckled "Sure, Morales" Miles threw his head back laughing.

The pair of you blindly walked through the hall, forgetting about the curfew entirely "Aren't you going to sneak out?" You asked Miles.

Miles chuckled nervously "I was gonna, but I'm just too tired, you know?" Miles wanted to sneak out and talk to his uncle but he didn't want to miss this opportunity into making friends.

"Am I really that good to hang out with for you to miss your daily sneak-out sesh?" You smirked as you leaned in closer to him. Miles was tense he couldn't say a word, your breath was fanning onto him and he can basically smell your perfume.

Suddenly a whistle echoed at the end of the hall making both of you turn your head to the source "Isn't it a bit too early to shag your classmate!" The guard shouted. "you'll both face deep consequences about this!"

"Run." You whispered into his ears, and Miles swore he could feel goosebumps. Before he even got time to process his dilemma, you grabbed his arms without warning, and god you were strong.

"Isn't it a bit too early to listen to the exclusive spider man Christmas song?!" You shouted with a laugh. Miles who heard your statement snorted and let out a bark of laughter.

"I didn't know you had such great taste in music!" Miles counter back and laughed. He peeked from his shoulder to see the guard who was running after the both of you; the way the guard ran made Miles laugh even harder his stomach hurting.

You looked back seeing the same thing and just like Miles it had you crackling. To say the guard wasn't flustered was an understatement, that enough made him determined to catch you both. Both of your laughter was so loud some of the students came out of their dorms and that alone distracted the guard from chasing after the both of you.

It took you a while to find a safe place to finally get peace. Mile was out of breath, he was panting like a dog; with laughter mixed with a full lap run, who wouldn't?

"you look dehydrated," you said out of amusement.

"Really? I didn't think it was that obvious" he remarked between ragged breath.

You sat down, him sitting down next to you, he was still out of breath "Why are you so unaffected-- I mean like, you basically ran through the whole school" You side glance at him "Mama mo blue." (Your mom is blue) that was so out of pocket even for Miles. Honestly, you didn't feel like talking, you loved Mile's company but you were just too tired, everything was just so overwhelming.

"No she's not, bet yours is" That made you chuckle, Miles understanding parts of your Filipino jokes brought you smiling wider.

"My mom is dead." You laughed seeing Mile's color drained from his face "I'm so sorry--" he was genuinely trying to apologize but he burst out laughing making you laugh harder.

"I'm serious though-- I'm sorry" his laughter subsided, replacing it with a sympathetic look "No need, Miles. It was a long time ago" You smiled reassuringly at him.

Miles grinned, looking mischievously at you "What?" You asked "You called me by my first name" he wiggled his brows "Oh fuck off, dude" You punched his shoulder gently but he still made a sound.

You felt your phone buzz, averting your attention to your phone. Miles watched your smile turn into an annoyed frown as you saw the text on your phone.

"where are you?" you mocked in a high-toned voice. Miles let out a huff of amusement watching you "Now she's worried when she was the one who locked me out!" You complained.

"Roommate?" Miles asked feeling quite the same as you. You hummed.

"my roommate is always on his computer 24/7 sometimes I can hardly sleep at all," he said still looking your way. "Will, let's just say my roommate likes to play pranks with me" you muttered.

"Didn't it cross your mind that maybe she does that because...you always start it"

You scoffed "Strong accusation, but fair point-- and I need to go, she's spamming me" You stand up from your position as Miles frowned.

"You still didn't tell me your name," he said while standing up. You narrowed your eyes, surely you won't tell him your name but you thought of a cool nickname to piss Gwen off.

"Gwendolyn Garcia" you held back a laugh, pursing your lips to conceal it. "Will see you around, Gwendolyn" he enthusiastically said.

"Copy that" Hearing that made Miles groaned loudly and you throw your head back laughing. You both went your separate ways with the previous event still in mind. Miles for sure will cherish the night. You in the other hand still can't sleep.

_____

Tag list: @itstooearly-its3am

#miles morales x you #miles morales #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse #fanfic #spiderman #mcu #captain america #tony stark #stark!reader #stark!daughter #peter parker #gwen stacy #ned leeds #spider man: across the spider verse

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