youthereader

[youthereader]

Hi I just read the new gator imagine and I love both the first and second part & I was wondering if you could do maybe another part to it 🤍

Concept is brainstormed but I'm currently going through a lot of personal bullshit. Thank you for your patience bb. It's coming!

#keerygal

[youthereader]

Will literally pay you to keep writing near zero. Like actually. Cashapp, Venmo, WHATEVER. Lmk lol

[youthereader]

[youthereader]

Notes on inclusivity in x reader fic

I’ve seen a lot of posts about this this week so I wanted to share the things I think about when I write and how I try to be more inclusive. I’m not saying I invented these – I definitely did not. I’m just good at organizing information (thanks, grad school) so I thought it might be helpful for others to list out what I'm thinking about while writing. I’m completely open to feedback on these! And I’ll add to the list as I learn and think of more. 

Notes on hair, skin tone, body type/size (and clothes), language, and gender below the cut.

Hair

The main thing to avoid here is having fingers run through reader’s hair. That’s not possible or desirable for a variety of hair types. Things I like to do instead:

Hand on the back of the neck

Hand on jaw, side of neck, or cheek (especially hand on side of neck with thumb caressing cheek)

Fingers tracing face, cheekbones, lips

Kisses at the hairline

Skin tone

I think we all know about avoiding blushing at this point. I like to use:

Cheeks heated

Felt heat rise in your cheeks

Face felt hot

Your cheeks were warm to the touch

You could feel the heat in your cheeks

But there’s also other considerations, like wind chafing (which can cause redness, but only on some skin) and effects of actions like clenching your fists or what happens when you’re feeling faint:

Windburn, raw skin, dryness, chafing, peeling instead of redness

Not using “white knuckles” to emphasize clenched fists or a tight grip on something

Not having the reader “turn white” or pale when they’re shocked, feeling faint, sick, etc.

Instead, try: looks sick, ill, shaky, weak, trembling

Body type & size

Clothing

I try to only specify clothing, footwear, and/or makeup when plot relevant:

Going out on a date? Try “your favorite outfit” or “the new outfit you bought” which allows the reader to fill in something they would want to wear in that situation.

If I need reader to have a pocket, I might specify jeans, but not what type.

If I need reader to be comfortable, I might say they’re wearing their most comfortable clothes, but not what they are.

If I need reader to be wearing a top and pants, I’ll just say that without adding details.

Another note here - it’s possible to add descriptors that can be relatable and add to the vibe without adding specifics. For example:

“You were wearing your favorite jeans that fit you just the way you liked.”

"You were already uncomfortable because your only clean pants were the ones you hated, with the broken fly."

“You slipped on your most comfortable clothes that you liked to wear around the house.”

“You found a top in your closet that you hadn’t worn in ages, and felt perfect for the moment.”

If needed, specify without over specifying:

In Maintenance Request, there’s an important, plot-relevant scene where reader spills coffee on her white blouse. So I said she was wearing a white blouse, but nothing else about her outfit. That allows you to picture whatever you want (and whatever type of blouse) with just that one detail.

You can say, for example, that reader is wearing lingerie and it has lace, without adding so much information that the reader can't picture themselves in it.

Body size and weight

In terms of reader’s size, one thing to think about is writing that the other person lifts the reader or carries them anywhere. That’s not inclusive of plus-size bodies (like mine). But it’s possible to include similar physicality without that particular detail:

Throwing a leg over a shoulder

Tugging on hips (on the bed)

Pushing into a wall and crowding in

Pulling someone down on top of you

Height

Not everyone is shorter than these love interests we’re writing about. Try:

Leaned in for a kiss (instead of up)

Brought your lips to theirs 

Angled your head for a kiss

Reached for them (instead of reached up)

Language

You don’t have to speak a language to imagine that your reader might. Instead of implying that dialogue in another language is “incomprehensible” or saying reader doesn’t understand, try:

You didn’t hear what he said (let’s the reader decide if they understood)

Include the dialogue but mark it as being in the other language (possibly in italics?)

Talk to one of the many fans on here who speak that language! 

Check out and bookmark helpful posts like this one about sexy talk in Spanish from ali @urmomsgnocchi

Gender

Label whether it’s f!reader, gn!reader, m!reader, nb!reader, etc.

Note about tagging

But like anything else, the most important thing to do is tag! If you want to have someone lift the reader, for example, you can do that – just tag for it, or specify that you’re not tagging for everything. That allows people to choose how to engage.

I like to add a note on the main fic post about any details I’ve added to reader’s backstory, see this one as an example.

Note about learning

Like anything else, we do better when we learn more. I learned a lot of this from reading fic and reading others’ helpful guidance and suggestions way before I ever started writing. But I also learned some from editing myself, which gets easier the more I practice. For example, I originally had a detail in to know the light about reader's skin turning red and irritated from cold wind – but I caught it, and changed it to be more inclusive. I caught it because I’ve been purposefully editing and monitoring my own writing for inclusivity. It gets easier with practice.

I hope this is helpful and I’m also happy to add any other suggestions or link to anyone’s posts. Also happy to have feedback. <3

Here are some posts that helped me learn and do better: About inclusivity and language from @flightlessangelwings

[youthereader]

hrghh another long and difficult day... TUMBLR!! fetch me a photo of The Fictional Character .....

[youthereader]

WATCHING THE DETECTIVES (2007)

Cillian Murphy as Neil Lewis

"What's the deal with the old costumes?"

"Oh, those… I use them for promotions…"

#neil lewis

[youthereader]

my constant mood while drawing for the last 30 minutes

[youthereader]

I’m really enjoying your Gator series! Your writing is so good!

Aw, thank you bb! 😘

#anonymous

[youthereader]

sometimes I forget Free Fire exists and then I'm like oh yeah!!!! nice!!!!

Cillian Murphy | Free Fire 2016 | Ben Wheatley

#ONLY LIKE 10 PEOPLE SAW IT IN THEATRE INCLUDING ME #cillian murphy

[youthereader]

Peaky Blinders Season 3 | Episode 1

#tommy shelby

[youthereader]

who's up for some emmett fic?

#emmett a quiet place

[youthereader]

Oppenheimer (2023) Dir. Christopher Nolan

#j robert oppenheimer

[youthereader]

Gator catches you.

PAIRING: gator tillman (fargo) x teenage fem!reader

SUMMARY: 2.4k. Gator finds you on the edge of town after he lets you get away.

RATING: e; NONCON, mentions of underage drinking and drug use, reader is an 18 year-old high schooler, unprotected anal sex, vaginal fingering, public sex, gaslighting, angst, dead dove do not eat

A/N: this took a much darker turn than the first part. I didn't plan on writing more for this character but a couple people wanted more. this is a dark fic, so if it's not your jam, turn away now.

Part 1. (Gator blackmails you.)

You sense that your friends are suspicious after Gator Tillman caught you and not them that night. They ask about what happened and you lie, saying you managed to talk your way out of it, he let you go with a warning.

They’re thankful, initially, because you never ratted on them, though they deserved it for ditching you. Then you feel them start to pull away from you, especially after you blow a couple of your male friends at parties. It’s not like you, and that’s the point. You’re chasing a high you can’t get from guys your age. You blow them, and they enjoy it, but what makes you a target from then on is how quickly it happened. Two guys in the space of forty-eight hours.

Rumors start around school and it eventually gets back to you, that you’re a slut now, and random guys that have never spoken to you before ask for your Snapchat and harass you in-between classes about hanging out on weekends. The attention is weird, and so obvious. You’ve never been known for anything before, and now you exist.

The emptiness you feel from hooking up since Gator frustrates you, but nothing is worse than how unsatisfied you feel every time you make yourself come. The relief is so fleeting, that within seconds of finishing you need more. No fantasy is enough, and you’re at it night after night, not sleeping enough.

Your grades aren’t suffering yet but your homeroom teacher asks to see you, expressing their concern. They say you’re not yourself, you don’t seem as happy. Honestly, you’re not. Things felt less complicated before. You used to not search the main road of town for anyone. You used to want to be invisible.

To let off steam, you go to a party with those same shitty friends, but this time some college guys are there with weed and pills. You smoke a little, but drink more, end up under one of them but don’t remember much of it. The next morning, a friend pulls you aside, a smirk barely hidden as she asks:

“You know we heard you begging that guy to choke you, right?”

The humiliation hits you and you shake your head. “Fuck off. I’m not into that weird shit.”

“Your kink’s your kink, dude,” she retorts, shrugging. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Shut the fuck up, because it’s not my kink,” you snarl, and her eyes flash with irritation.

“Whatever.”

The anxiety you used to feel when you thought you might have upset one of your friends doesn’t come on as strong this time. You don’t care if they decide to exclude you, not if they’re going to make fun of how you want to fuck.

All you care about is trying to find a way out of this funk, by any means necessary. You hang around one of the guy friends you blew, doing dumb shit that culminates in some light graffitiing. Not exactly your area of expertise, as it turns out.

You realize too late that you’re caught, your friend yelling to run away. In your defense, you’re a little high from a joint you shared earlier, so when the spray can you’re holding is knocked out of your hand, it plays in slow motion. It clatters across the ground in the alley you still occupy, and you turn around, fingers wrapping around your neck as you’re pulled to your feet.

Gator lifts you up, shoving you against the wall, knocking the wind out of you. You cough, hands going to his wrist. His gloved hand doesn’t budge when you try to scratch him off.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” he hisses, his eyes alight with amusement.

You can’t breathe, feet kicking him, but he’s stock still as he stares back at you, then glances at your handiwork.

“What the fuck,” he adds, sounding a little amazed. “Since when are you doing this petty shit?”

You can’t reply of course, and he pays you no mind, letting you go. You tumble, your knees breaking your fall, as he moves closer to the wall to inspect it. On the ground, you cough and hold your throat, sure you’re going to puke, but you don’t. The world spins regardless, righting itself in time for you to see him stalking you again. You scamper backwards, and Gator stands over you, hands on hips.

“If I find you by yourself again, you’re dead.”

You wonder what he means, because he’s not threatening arrest this time. Your eyes slip down his front and you spy the outline of his erection. Your fear enticed him again. The thrill that runs through you is like no other, and your chest heaves some more, the air not quite filling you enough.

“Gator –”

He walks away, and in a way, you’re grateful because you don’t know what you would have said to him. You lean against the wall, closing your eyes, your neck still aching.

-

You’re past caring. You can be friendless now, it’s not as if they were helping you to begin with. You go to school, you go home. You do nothing on weekends. You get isolated quickly, predictably. It would be sad if you were your younger self.

You walk alone everywhere when your house feels cramped. You don’t want your parents to worry, they’ve never been particularly invested in your social life to begin with. You slip out one afternoon and find yourself walking along the road Gator drove you down.

You think about him almost constantly, like a low hum in the background you can occasionally ignore, but it’s always there. The sun is starting to set later in the afternoon, the worst parts of winter are over. It’s not snowing anymore, but the air still is fresh, making your of your face tingle.

In your own world, it’s no wonder that a car pulls up by you. The road is otherwise empty, and you know who it is before you even look towards it.

Gator rolls down his window, calling out your name. You  glance his way, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter, your face burning.

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you call back, not stopping.

You’ve been waiting for him, for what feels like weeks. Maybe months? Years, if you’re truly honest? You didn’t know you needed him until now. This darkness.

“I told you you’d regret walking alone…”

You stop abruptly at that, glaring at him, and the car rolls to a stop. He gives a grin, takes a long drag of his vape. You say nothing.

“How come I heard you’re fuckin’ random guys for weed?”

“Why would you care?” you throw back. You cringe. “I mean, you’ve got no evidence-”

He smiles again. “I am the law, baby. But I mean if you’re doin’ shit like that, I might need to get checked.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snap, and turn your heel.

You hear him open his door but you walk on, not sure what you want. If he takes you to the station now, your reputation is hardly worth saving at this point. Must have been one of your so-called friends that started the rumor he heard. If he wants to blackmail you again, is there any point fighting him? You miss him, he fucked you up.

You can’t stop the anger that boils over, when he grabs your arm and jerks you back.

“I’m talkin’ to ya-”

He kisses you on the lips and you bite him on the lip, Gator pulling back with a yell, his fingers going to his lips. You freeze, terrified by your own stupid impulse.

“What the fuck? You fuckin’ bit me?!”

He grabs you by the neck and marches you back, shoving you against the hood of his car. His hips meet your ass and you can’t move, he’s way too heavy though you struggle against him. Whatever desire you have for him, when Gator is angry he is fucking terrifying. You have no idea what he’s capable of. He has a gun, for fuck’s sake, and you’re just some kid sister of his friend’s.

His hand is down the back of your pants and you shriek, his gloved fingers invading your cunt without preamble, the tears springing in your eyes. You grip him back, his low chuckle behind you.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs. “You’re over-complicatin’ this…”

You close your eyes, trying to reel it in, the fear… the pleasure beginning to coil in your stomach. You hear the harsh squelches of your cunt being worked, you hear his belt unbuckling–

“Gator, please…”

You blubber, your legs shaking as he yanks your pants down, ridding you of his fingers, only to pin you back down against the cold metal beneath you. He keeps your arms pinned behind you, and you can’t see what he’s doing, you’re forced to listen, to wait.

Everything careens forward as you feel him take a swipe of your juices and move further up, up, up to between your cheeks. You start to sob louder.

“Shh. Shut up!”

“Gator, wait. Wait, please, wait – wait – don’t -!”

He rubs at your puckered hole, the sensation making you whimper and plead. You’re not ready, you’ve never done this before. Your bare ass exposed to him, you’re completely helpless, and you know that’s what gets him off.

“You’re worth freezin’ my balls off,” he whispers, and you know what’s happening next, but you can’t quite believe it.

Not until the first push of the tip of his cock against your asshole, and you tense, whimpering as you squirm beneath him.

“Just relax. Relax!”

You grit your teeth, tears streaming down your face as you feel him push past the first ring of muscle. The pain is like nothing else in your life, and you go still, succumbing to it. He groans, chuckles in awe.

“Holy shit. Holy shit…”

He fills you up, then starts to move back and forth, slow at first. You feel stretched beyond comprehension, like at some point you’ll break. Like he’ll literally tear you open. It burns, until it doesn’t, your body turning lax Gator fucks you hard, but slowly. With each knock of his body against yours, you hear the slap of your skin, your cheek rubbing the hood of his car.

His hand on your ass cheek slips under, and you yelp at the feeling of his hand covering your pussy, brushing the folds as he never stops.

“I gotta-”

He replaces his hand again, having tugged off his glove with his teeth, and he starts to chuckle again, low and a little breathless.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

You don’t bother arguing, because you know you are. There’s no turning back, from how your body just won’t cooperate for you when you need it most. You feel wound tight, Gator on your throbbing clit as his hips smack against your ass.

He unexpectedly tucks his fingers inside your cunt again, the sensation making you tense up again. You wail as he works you, he’s no longer pinning you against the car to stop you from escaping. He dedicates himself to pleasure, yours and his, his thumb rubbing against your clit as he reaches the deepest parts of you.

You feel the sudden urge to pee, panicking. If you struggle, but even with your arms free, you can’t shift his weight, your hands blindly trying to reach behind to shove him off.

You give an almighty shudder and come hard, losing your vision. Your orgasm is long and intense, and like nothing else you’ve managed before. It almost hurts from the intensity of it. You blink back the world as you recover, your empty cunt twitching as Gator wrings his hand.

“Made you squirt…”

He takes hold of your hips and bears down, speeding up his thrusts. He doesn’t stop, and it’s hurting more, with your thighs soaked, his cock working in and out of you without reprieve.

“Can’t get ya pregnant, this was the only way-”

He makes a choked sound and goes still, half falling on top of you, and you know he’s come inside you without checking. You feel him pull out and you wince, and then there’s a trickle down your crack.

He steps back and you take the opportunity to pull your pants up again, panting like he is, leaning on the hood of his car. You’re still in shock, not pulling away when he grabs your chin and kisses you, tongue slipping into your mouth.

A beat later he changes his mind, taking hold of your front and pulls you towards the backseat. He opens it and puts you inside, goes to his door and slips back in.

He takes deep a lungful of air, sighing. You stare at your legs, your damp pants. Everything feels warm and sticky, and you’re sweating.

“You okay?” he asks, and you glance at him in the rearview mirror, perplexed.

“What?”

“You came, right?”

You look away. You know why he’s saying that. It’s to make it seem like he’s not guilty of anything. You swallow hard.

“I would’ve… done those things if you’d asked me to,” you say.

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

You go quiet, and you see he’s driving you home. You can’t believe this happened in broad daylight, thinking that would make a difference at all. Apparently not to Gator.

“Hey, I’ve been followin’ you. It was bound to happen sooner or later to you, since you’re actin’ so dumb and reckless. It’s better it was me than some other guy you don’t know-”

“But I don’t know you,” you retort, your voice hoarse with tears. “I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do. And stop cryin’. It’s a real turn-off.”

“You’re… fucking evil,” you whisper.

He looks at you, turning his head to glare at you through the partition this time.

“Hey, you got off.”

He turns back, and you travel in silence back to your house. There’s no car in the driveway, no-one is home yet. He doesn’t move to get out of the car, your eyes meeting in the mirror.

“You tell anyone, I’ll kill ya.”

You believe him, but you deflate with a kind of weariness instead of turning still with fear like he hoped.

“Yeah, I figured.”

He lets you out, and you walk to your front door without looking back. The kicker is that once he leaves, you take a long time to clean yourself up. You peel off your clothes, smell his come and yours all over you when you stand in the bathroom, the shower running already.

You savor each step of it, seeing pink water in the bottom of the shower. He hurt you, badly, and yet you feel that longing again.

He’s that high you need to chase.

if you're still here, thanks. 🖤 if you want more, hmu.

#gator tillman #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery smut #gator x y/n #gator x reader #gator fargo #gator tillman x reader #dark fic

[youthereader]

Pedro Pascal - Disney Gallery: The Mandalorian S01E03

#pedro pascal

[youthereader]

masterlist.

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

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

RATING: E; age gap (10+ years), infidelity, period-typical sexism, angst, smut

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. 

part 1. part 2. part 3.* part 4. part 5. part 6.* part 7.* part 8.

*indicates explicit smut; please check tags for each part.

Spotify playlist to accompany this fic can be heard here. Read the fic on ao3

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

[youthereader]

Near Zero part 8.

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

SUMMARY: 1.4k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

RATING: E; (no smut in this part), infidelity, age gap (10+ years), secret relationship, angst

A/N: Although based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character, and does not intend to be accurate. This is merely for entertainment. We are well and truly out of fluffy territory, folks. It's going to get worse before it gets better, but I hope you stick with this one anyway. 🖤

masterlist.

Nichols asks for you again, which does not bode well, halfway through the week when tensions are high. Chain smoking as you wait for him outside his office, you cannot attempt nonchalance. His secretary gets a call and rises, pointing to the doorway like you’re a dog to be directed.

You let yourself in, still smoking. You don’t bother to sit this time, leaving the door ajar.

“Sir.”

“Was your visit to Santa Fe adequate?” Nichols asks, sitting at his desk, eyes down like last time.

You refuse the bait, exhaling through your nose. “We are quite busy, as you know.”

“But you have time to spare for other people.”

He must despise you. Which works well for you. Not needing to make a good impression means less energy spent so uselessly. Your cigarette smoulders as you inhale deeply.

“Can you close the door,” he adds. Manners are trite to him.

You oblige, remaining standing. “What is it about myself that warrants this attention, Colonel?”

Your eyes meet and he frowns ever so slightly.

“You work for the government.”

“I work for Bethe,” you reply. You cross your arms, taking another drag of your cigarette. “Or with. Whichever. It’s a team effort.”

You sarcastically give a single pump of your fist and then re-cross your arms. Nichols doesn’t react, eyes fixed on yours.

“You work for the United States and have access to top secret information other parties are interested in. Think very carefully about how you answer my questions. Your facetious behavior is noted-”

“I’m being facetious?” you retort. “You’re asking me how my little trip went, Colonel. I am but a lowly scientist in these United States.”

His eyes narrow and you smoke for half a minute in silence. You finally flick your ash in the tray on the edge of his desk. It occurs to you that you’re doing a near-perfect imitation of Kitty Oppenheimer, and not on purpose. You glance away.

“Yes, I am being facetious. Am I here to be warned that I’m being watched? I don’t see any point dancing around it. Sir.”

“We both know you’re not just a scientist. Not if you’re working for or with anyone else here,” he murmurs. “You deal with sensitive information while engaging in an affair with Dr. Oppenheimer.”

Naming it aloud makes you pull back a little, a short laugh escaping involuntarily. Your heart hammers and you don’t know where to look, feeling so strange. You pull on your cigarette.

“Mm. You mean my friendship with Robert,” you counter.

He gives a cold sort of smile. “Whatever you want to call it. It means that you work for the government, and you are close to the director of the Manhattan Project.”

“Well, okay,” you say, feigning seriousness, nodding.

You loathe being threatened when you’ve come this far already. You only ever expected this from Kitty, which was probably naïve on your part. You think of which role to play next, though you think Nichols could sniff out any disingenuousness a mile away. You don’t speak again, waiting to be dismissed.

“I wished to inform you that you will no longer be allowed to leave Los Alamos, until it is decided otherwise.”

No more running away with Robert. You smoke and nod.

“Is that it?” you ask, and he nods.

You don’t wait to be dismissed, opting to leave with cigarette once your cigarette lands in the ashtray, still lit. You exhale without looking back, marching out of the building as you seethe.

-

Robert brings flowers, quite unexpectedly. They are daisies, wrapped in paper, tied with yarn. You take them and usher him into your house under the cover of darkness.

“No-one saw me,” he murmurs, and you put a finger to your lips.

You push aside the curtain covering the tiny window at your front door, peeking out into the street. It’s after midnight but you feel watched nonetheless. There seems to be no sign of life from your neighbors. Still, you feel as if he can’t have slipped out from the watch of one of the many guards on each block.

Robert’s cockiness lessens whatever fears he has, if there ever have been any when it comes to people knowing about you. He agreed to come tonight in a short, whispered conversation by your desk, in between examining your papers.

You can see by his face that something bothers him, he often looks this way after a long day. He is burdened with responsibility, but he keeps looking at you instead of somewhere to the side; this is different. He doesn’t seem pensive.

It’s after midnight and he is wide awake, as are you. Sleep is harder to come by than ever. You sit beside one another on your bed, his hand still holding the bouquet of daisies.

“This will hurt,” he says, and you glance at him, his free hand taking yours, twining your fingers together.

He searches your face. You wait, a knot tightening somewhere deep in your chest. The dread you felt was warranted, then. His throat bobs.

“Kitty’s pregnant.”

“Ah,” you say, eyes smarting so suddenly, as if you’ve been struck across the face.

You focus on your hands together, breath shuddering. You’re jealous, of course. Not because you wanted that for yourself, a baby, and not because you even wanted his last name. You don’t want Kitty’s life, and yet if she didn’t exist, you would be happier. You’re jealous simply because he’s not yours alone.

You smile a little, miserable. You look back at him, and his eyes are sad, too.

“It’s a surprise, I take it,” you say.

“Yes and no. At least a lot of babies are being born in Los Alamos already.”

You nod, as if the conversation turning light has helped at all, but it’s useless. You take out a cigarette, physically separating yourself from him to light it and inhale.

A couple tears fall of their own accord and you swipe them away as you clear your throat, changing the subject completely.

“Nichols grounded me.”

Robert frowns, but not enough for your liking. “Me as well. He’s always strongly advised me not to leave town.”

“That’s hardly fair,” you snap. “You were just in Chicago. And you go as you please–”

“He still does wish to control me,” Robert retorts, gentler. “Luckily I’m able to persuade others.”

A few moments you spend in silence together, his eyes on you while you look away.

“I’ve had this conversation before, or a version of it, about Kitty,” he says.

You meet his piercing eyes and blink. “With whom?”

“Jean,” he says, leaning over to put an arm around you to draw you back in. “Jean Tatlock. It was a few years ago when Kitty and I were getting married.”

You knew Kitty was married when she met Robert, everyone knew that they had an unorthodox beginning. You hadn’t known this Jean, but by how Robert spoke her name, there was a weight to it greater than most. You knew him well enough.

Your chest still hurts, especially when he rubs your arm with his thumb, your head tucked under his chin.

“I am under no illusions, Robert,” you whisper. “Let’s be mature about this. What happened, happened. This is the perfect opportunity for this to be done with this.”

You don’t want to be responsible. You want to scream about how unfair this is, when really you had no choices to begin with. He is married, and not to you! You are a fool in love. You’re saying everything a better person would say, someone unlike you.

Robert hums in agreement, stroking your arm. You become yourself again, lingering in his touch just that bit longer, closing your eyes to focus on the sensation.

“Would it bother you if I slept with someone else?” you ask.

“Yes, terribly,” he says instantly.

You let out a short, wet laugh. “You’re impossible.”

Your chest heaves again and you crane your next to see his face again, and he’s looking back at you. He presses a slow kiss to your lips, cupping your cheek. You pull back before you can’t, sniffling.

“You’re impossible,” you say again, sighing.

When Robert leaves some time later, after sitting together becomes too unbearable, you watch him walk away. Cigarette smoke trails behind him and you see the rest of the street void of life, and yet it mocks you. Its lack of light taunts, you are still awake.

You turn away from the window, walking back to your bed, spying the flowers again. You pierce one of the petals with your thumbnail until it detaches, your eyes swimming with tears.

taglist: @indulgence-be-thy-name, @forgottenpeakywriter, @amiets2 (hmu if you'd like to be added)

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

[youthereader]

20 questions for fic writers

technically my sideblog @youthereader was tagged by @indulgence-be-thy-name - thanks bb ❤️; and like Em I'll be answering for both accounts

How many works do you have on ao3? youthereader - 4 grimeysociety - 171

What's your total ao3 wordcount? youthereader - 17,245 grimeysociety - 2,299,669

What fandoms do you write for? MCU - almost exclusively Darcyland, a teeny bit of Stranger Things and RPF (Cillian Murphy characters mostly...I've barely begun though)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? I can only answer this from grimey so... The Comeback Kid Among Wolves Damn, I'm In It I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm Heart to Break

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not? I always reply to comments unless they're the rare dickish one (I delete those, that's always fun). I reply to everything to thank people for interacting in the first place. I like it when I get a reply from authors, too. I'm very grateful.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I think it was one with Shieldshock and hacking, post-Infinity War, so everyone was dusted except for Steve and Darcy. It was kind of Schrödinger's ending because it might have been happy? I left it open (and I won't ever tell the 'real' ending).

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of mine do. I can't help it. Especially since the 'happy ending' tends to be because of sex. I mean...

Do you get hate on fics? A couple times but it was really insignificant and swiftly deleted.

Do you write smut? If so, what kinds? I write it all. Kinktober was kind of my 'thing' for a few years, as in, some followers looked forward to it each October. I rarely don't have some form of smut in a fic. The filth is fun, and so is the intimate erotica type of stuff. The fluff is great, but I have actually written one that had no response whatsoever and I think it went a little too far for my regular readers.

Do you write crossovers? I think some of my Darcy fic count so I'm going to say yes. I've written her with most Chris Evans characters, like Ransom Drysdale to name one. It counts, right?

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes and it's still up lol

Have you ever had a fic translated? I've had a couple translated into Russian but can't recall which, it's been a few years.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? I had someone ask me to ghostwrite their fic ending and then when they weren't happy with what I'd written they said 'no thanks' and haven't spoken to me since, does that count?

What’s your all time favorite ship? I will never be able to decide this, sorry. It's been years and I can never pinpoint it. Literally hundreds of thousands of words written over the three particular ships I'm thinking of and there's no way. There's just no way.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? The Americans. It's been nearly 2 years since I updated and I think it's been forgotten about anyway, so that's me off the hook.

What are your writing strengths? I can't answer that. I have no idea.

What are your writing weaknesses? My pacing is the worst. I repeat myself. I don't think I'm consistent in any way. I get impatient and hardly edit sometimes, which bites me in the ass later. I am bad at a lot of things.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I've done it and it's fine. It's my average high school level French, but it's passable. Literally I passed high school French.

First fandom you wrote for? Kingdom Hearts

Favorite fic you’ve written? The Comeback Kid because it seems to be everyone else's favourite, too.

I will tag @sarahbeniel & @aimmyarrowshigh