#last night at the alamo

[watching-pictures-move]

My favourite first-time viewings from last year.

[pacingmusings]

Seen in 2022:

Last Night at the Alamo (Eagle Pennell), 1983

[svanwijk]

How the Texan barflies in Last Night at the Alamo (1983) are unable to learn to live with changing times.

[landwriter]

this morning's early googling for wrapping up the corinthian/hob fic:

gulf of mexico oil rigs

molotov cocktail ingredients

siphoning gas tool

nuclear lab mexico

savoy hotel bathrooms

[oh-bo]

[weirdworldofwinnie]

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!*

[youthereader]

Near Zero part 5.

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

SUMMARY: 1.3k 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) mentions of infidelity

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. It's been months but I'm finally back! Thank you for your patience and Happy 2024!

masterlist

You remember Robert’s note every so often over the next week. You have little time to plan anything properly about your Santa Fe trip, but you fantasize when you’re alone enough. You have only been to the town on your way to Los Alamos months ago, and you were different then. You hadn’t known what this part of the world was capable of.

This dreaminess seeps into your life when you walk into the center of town to buy lighter fluid. You’re out of matches and may have to resort to a flint if you don’t hurry along to the store – and on the way in, you see Kitty, a basket in one arm full of packages from the butcher.

“You again,” she murmurs, flashing her perfect teeth.

She keeps the door open, people moving past both of you. She gives a nod to some women drifting past. It reminds you of high school.

“Robert mentioned something about you and the boys going off on a weekend trip next month,” she says, and you watch her face for any sign of suspicion. “But he can’t have you all to himself all the time, dear. I can’t have you over for my wives’ club since you’re so busy…”

Your eyes meet and you realize she absolutely does not see you as a threat. She’s trying to make friends.

“Unfortunately,” you say, though you’re pretending a little.

“There you go!” she laughs, hitting your arm playfully. “So, you understand my issue. We cannot go on knowing each other and not seeing one another. This town is small enough as it is��”

She trails off, looking behind her at the customers, something passing over her face.

“Did you know I’m a botanist?” she says eventually, glancing back at you. “I’m not just Robert’s wife.”

“Of course, you’re not,” you say.

“And I suppose you have no garden outside that godforsaken shack you’re in,” she goes on, having recovered from whatever she was feeling a breath beforehand. “I’m going to have to give you some type of succulent.”

“A succulent?” you repeat with a smirk.

“Yes, dear. A cactus. Something.”

You appreciate this, having someone that isn’t from T building to talk to. You give a shrug.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

“Yes, and then you can come visit us again to pick it up,” Kitty conspires, smiling again. “Or Robert can drop it off at yours…”

You think of him visiting your house under innocent circumstances, hoping the irony doesn’t show on your face. You clear your throat.

“I’ll let you go,” you say, and she nods.

“Suppose I ought to get back to the brat,” she sighs. “He’s with a neighbor. Unless you’d like to join me?”

You shake your head automatically. “I need to get back to work.”

Kitty rolls her eyes. “I’ve heard that one before. Ta-ta.”

You watch her leave, and then finally walk into the store. Your head is full of Robert again; he must have mentioned Santa Fe while passing through his house. You can picture him bringing up this idea as if he hadn’t come up with it the night of the dinner party. Your face feels warm, remembering his lips on yours, the way he caught your hand in his.

-

You light a cigarette as you leave for lunch a week later, almost running into a uniformed officer. He calls you by your last name and you glance up, confused.

“Ma’am, Colonel Nichols wishes to speak with you.”

You feel some colleagues’ eyes on you, aware of Robert being within earshot, too.

“Yes?”

You can’t think of what else to say, given that you see there’s little choice in the matter. The young officer turns his heel, and you follow him out. You suck on your cigarette, exhaling to the side as you exit the building, keeping a brisk pace so you’re not left behind.

You only feel mild irritation when you arrive at Nichols’ office, since he doesn’t care that your lunch break is only so long, and there are only so many opportunities to take it throughout a busy workday.

You should have gauged Robert’s reaction on your way out, as Nichols does not seem pleased to see you despite his request.

“Please have a seat,” he says, barely looking up from his papers.

You would rather stand. You would rather not be there at all by how cold he is, by how your stomach growls. You don’t often listen to your body’s signals when you’re in the labs, but now you can’t ignore your rising hunger. You take a short inhale of your cigarette before mashing it in the ashtray in front of you, taking the seat he offers.

“I understand you have requested a weekend pass,” he says, finally looking at you.

His eyes behind his spectacles are pale and assessing. The blue smoke of your cigarette still lingers above your heads as you place your hands in your lap.

“Yes, was my application efficient?” you ask, and he smirks.

“You have never requested a pass before this week,” he says. “Why is that?”

You glance away, unsure of whether this is a joke. He has no right to know such a thing, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, nonetheless. Admitting the truth, that you haven’t wanted to leave because you had no reason to, made your life sound so small and sad. You refuse the mortification.

“I’ve been busy, or is that not a good enough reason, sir?” you retort, and he blinks, unmoved.

“It has nothing to do with Dr. Oppenheimer being present among the visitors of Santa Fe?” he says.

You freeze, wanting your cigarette back, wishing you had known it would be this way. Was he insinuating something, had he seen something? Heard a rumor?

“Dr. Oppenheimer and several of my colleagues will be in Santa Fe,” you say, drawing in a breath. You let it go, to seem bored by his invasiveness. “Are we not meant to spend time with one another outside of a laboratory? I would have thought the Army endorsed that kind of morale building among its ranks.”

You’re laying it on thick and he notices it, frowning ever so slightly.

“Oppie might not even come, he’s so busy,” you add with a half laugh. “And Feynman was always more fun. He is not pathologically introverted.”

“I would have thought you have been described as such, before this pass request came through,” Nichols drawls.

“Not diagnosed as such,” you say, a smile on your lips that you let fall instantly, knowing it to be a disturbing sight to some.

You no longer wish to pretend.

“Will I be allowed to leave Los Alamos or not?” you ask, and Nichols looks down at his papers, an open file.

“For now, yes,” he says.

You stare at one another, waiting for the silence to be broken. You refuse to blink, to further unsettle him. You despise being controlled and have not felt this type of outrage in a while.

“You may leave,” he says, and you rise from your chair.

He adds as you turn your back:

“Be careful, with what you share about the project.”

You always are. You turn back, frowning at him.

“Of course. Loose lips and all.”

He gives his own false smile, echoing you: “Of course.”

-

You find Robert later, who takes your elbow and steers you back out, making a show of insisting you get something to eat like you originally planned.

“Will you have lunch, then, Oppie?” someone teases, and he laughs softly.

When you are alone in the hallway, you stop, your voices lowering.

“Nichols knows. How does he know?”

“A guard, perhaps,” Robert says, and he is not anywhere near as concerned as you.

You stare at him. “Robert, I am being serious.”

“As am I,” he says, and he touches your cheek, then your shoulder, sighing. “My darling, I’m sorry you’re put through this.”

“I’m a willing participant,” you retort, and he shakes his head, just the once. “Will you please enlighten me-?”

“I have a file. And they watch me,” he whispers.

You look towards the entryway to the hall you occupy, then back at Robert. A distinct fear settles into you, deep down, to your marrow. You suppress a shiver.

Thank you for reading! I know I vanished for a while, but I hope to write more consistently. I have a nine month-old baby and it's hard to find time for creative things, so I'm very grateful to anyone who's been hanging out for more of this story! If you'd like to be added to a taglist, hmu! 🥰

[fable-rots]

Hey everyone, do you like wcrp? do you like cowboys and wild west aesthetics? would you like both of them in one? then i have good news for you!! Scorched Earth WCRP is now open!! the plot has not begun as of now so there’s plenty of time to join!!

“SCORCHED EARTH takes place in the desert. The location is heavily based on Los Alamos, with some creative liberties taken. The different colonies surround a crater in the ground, an obelisk at the bottom - the original testing site for the atomic bomb. Overtime, the radiation has mostly cleared, and the strange green trinitite glass that covered the ground is mostly buried under the sand - except for deep within the crater.

The cats here are heavily religious, worshipping the Sun, and scorning anything else. Rules are strict and traditions are to be upheld always. There are of course differences between the colonies’ way of worship, but each dedicates themselves to Her nonetheless.

Within Mesa Clutter, Canyon Clutter, and Basin Colony, there are unique roles and cultures among the different groups. Each has their Clerics and Medics, but they also have colony-specific roles, such as Martyrs and Hunters. They all have their own strengths and weaknesses; Mesa is known for their rigid structure and their brutal force of power, Canyon is known for their close-knit family bonds developed deep inside their caves, and Basin is known for their joyful cooking and gratitude, always willing to share with others.

Outside of the colonies, deep in the Badlands, lives The Ramhorns. These Outlaws have formed a dangerous bond within the harsh and deadly terrain they must survive in. Lead by a giant shadow of teeth and claws, they gather the bones of those they’ve slain, using them in rituals and as a warning to anyone who dares venture into the Badlands, where, if the Outlaws don’t get you, the horrible conditions certainly will.

There are lone Outlaws as well, but anyone alone in the Badlands won’t usually last long

But there are exceptions.

Her light may protect them during the day, but when She is dragged underneath, predators and venomous animals prowl the night.

And in the shadows lurks monsters, made living by Elders’ tales of darkness incarnate, monsters opposite of their warm God.

Unnatural amalgamations…

The purest form of Evil.”

SCORCHED EARTH is a 15+ discord RP, run and created by plutothefrog! If this has piqued your interest even a little, feel free to pop in and check it out! https://discord.gg/VpfdJxdR

[ourladyofoldgotham]

nightfall

j. robert oppenheimer x female reader

implied adultery, set during manhattan project

prompt by @forgottenpeakywriter

1.1k words

summary

You meet the illustrious Dr. Oppenheimer at the Los Alamos Christmas party. He asks you for a dance.

Los Alamos isn’t a socialite’s paradise, but looking around Fuller Lodge decorated for the annual personnel Christmas party, they almost could have fooled you.

A band was playing - turns out Los Alamos had a lot more musicians than you had thought - and the soft bustle of the room’s chatter rises up to the tinsel garland draped over the ceiling’s wooden beams. The electricity was always down in the evenings, and the water from the tanker trucks was in short supply, but for tonight, candles and liquor more than made up for it. 

You see him from across the room, standing at the counter. Doctor Oppenheimer is not a particularly loud man, nor a particularly imposing one. Still, there’s an air about him that seems to draw people in. He looks up and meets your gaze from across the room, and his blue eyes in the low light strike you like a bullet. You’ve heard about a million stories about him in the time that you’ve been here - you’ve heard he’s a genius of the highest degree, of course, but that’s practically a given. According to the rumors that flew through the town, he was also a Communist, a millionaire, a homewrecker, and a man that had left a trail of cultish devotion behind him in every university doing any real work in theoretical physics everywhere from Cambridge to California. You hadn’t believed a word of him until you’d met him in person. He seemed to be around every corner, in every lab, his brilliance the undercurrent at every turn. There was a sort of hypnotism that surrounded him, something that you had never seen before. You, like all the rest, were only human. Nobody could help falling under its spell. In the crowd, you lose sight of him.

It’s not until the night starts to draw to a close that you encounter him again. He startles you, tapping you on the shoulder. The light is low, scattering dim light across the wooden floor. The band plays some soft, pretty jazz tune you’re sure you’ve heard before. 

“Are you new to the Hill? I don’t think I recognize you.”

He extends his hand to you, and you shake it. 

“J. Robert Oppenheimer. I’m not sure we’ve had a chance to meet.”

You introduce yourself and his eyes glimmer with a slight touch of recollection. 

“I recognize that last name. Were you at Berkley? Caltech?”

You laugh and shake your head. 

“No, you must be thinking of my husband. He was one of Professor Lawrence’s graduate students there.”

“Of course. I don’t think I could have forgotten a face like that.”

He smiles at you over the rim of his glass. 

“Let me make you a drink.” 

You lean against the edge of the counter as you watch him make a martini, rimmed in lime and honey with extra gin. 

“So where did you go to school? I know your husband works in the E-5 group, but I could swear I’ve seen you in the labs.”

“Harvard - for chemistry, summa cum laude. I wasn’t able to complete my master’s, though - we moved out here just a couple months before I would have finished. I worked under Hornig in plutonium chemistry as a lab assistant for a while, but now I’m just a courier in the library group.”

“Ah, one of Lilli’s plutonium girls. It’s important work you do, you know.”

“What, to drive back and forth from a mailbox all day with a suitcase of old books locked to my wrist like a pack mule?”

He laughs in a way that’s almost disarming, the charismatic Oppie of legend. 

“A pack mule with one of the highest military security clearance levels in the country. It has to count for something.”

He hands you your drink. It’s strong, almost dizzying in the high altitude of top of the cocktails you’d already had. He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes studying you with an emotion you can’t quite decipher.

“Do you recognize this song?”

You shake your head.

“I’m certain I’ve heard it before, but I can’t quite place my finger on it.”

“Ah, of course. It’s quite popular, but it’s not as in vogue as it used to be. It’s called Nightfall - by Benny Carter. I saw him play live once, under Henderson at the Roseland in New York. Quite brilliant men, actually - I believe Henderson was a graduate student at Columbia in chemistry briefly.”

He pauses again, considering something. His eyes flit across the diamond ring on your finger as it wraps around the stem of your glass.

“Has your husband gone home yet? I don’t see him anywhere.”

“Oh, yes, doctor. Hours ago. He doesn’t dance - and he figured I could make it back home on my own.”

“I see. Do you? Dance, I mean.”

“When I can - which hasn’t been often lately. And where is Mrs. Oppenheimer tonight?”

“She’s… She’s visiting her family in Pennsylvania. Los Alamos has never suited her.”

You watch him rub the silver wedding band on his finger, a sudden flash of tension skimming across his face. 

“And what about you? Do you dance, Dr. Oppenheimer?”

The question snaps him out of his reverie, and he smiles softly. 

“Please, call me Robert. And as a matter of fact, I do. May I have the pleasure of this one?”

He extends his hand to you, and you take it. 

“You may.”

He leads you out to the dance floor. He’s old-fashioned, almost gentlemanly - his hand rests delicately on your waist, in classic ballroom fashion. The two of you are practically the only people in the room, now - he leads you in a slow foxtrot around the room. There’s something soft in his eyes when he looks into yours that makes you feel like the only woman in the world.

When the last note of the song rings out, the two of you are standing in the center of the floor. Your head rests on his shoulder, your clasped hands pulled in close. His hand is warm on your waist through the thin fabric of your dress. 

It’s hardly the picture of propriety. The scandal of an affair between the two of you would be enormous. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to care. Not now - not with him, dancing like this in the cool desert night. The rising moon drips silver light across the floor. With a flick of his hand, Robert signals to the band for just one more song.

couldn't resist the chance to flex my very minor jazz knowledge

[dudefrommywesterns]

Ship: Mike x Dude

Words: 400

Description: Drabblecember day 19: hot coffee/tea/cocoa

When Mike woke up, they instinctively felt for Dude. They were disappointed to find a cold bed instead. They sat up with a start, and looked around the room for their boyfriend. He’d been in their room last night, they were sure of it.

They threw a coat over their nightgown, not bothering to dress. Due to the earliness of the hour, they tiptoed across the hall, to Dude’s room, wondering if he’d returned there. When they peered in, there was no sign he’d been there. His clothes were put away and his bed was made.

Frowning, they made their way downstairs to the Hotel Alamo bar. There, already dressed, but clearly still sleepy, was Dude. He had a coffee in a metal cup. He smiled up at them.

Mike chuckled, “You look like you need more sleep.”

He gestured to a cup in front of the chair across from him, “I thought you’d be up earlier. I made coffee.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Mike took a seat across from him, and picked up the coffee. They brought it to their lips and took a sip. It had gone cold.

“I was sad when I woke up and you weren't there,” Mike admitted. “It was so lonely.”

He smiled, gently. “You got used to me being there, huh?”

Mike nodded. “It’s nice. I have a very special cuddle buddy for life.”

Dude’s lips broke out into a silly grin.

Mike paled. “I’m so sorry. That was ridiculous to say.”

Dude chuckled. “No, I liked it. Very special?”

They looked down at their coffee and smiled sheepishly, “Very special.”

“Sometimes…” he trailed off, looking down at his own coffee. “Sometimes…I wonder how I got you. How I got someone so in love with me, at the worst time in my life.”

“You were a good friend to me, Dude. I loved you. Even when I didn't know I loved you, I loved you. Even when I thought I hated you, I loved you.”

“We were always gonna be together?”

Mike considered this a moment. “Only if you always loved me back.”

Dude nodded, “I always loved you back.”

The room got very silent as the pair finished their coffee.

“It’s still early,” Mike said eventually, looking out the window. “Come back to bed? We probably won't sleep but…we can cuddle.”

“Okay.”

Dude took Mike’s hand, and they tiptoed back upstairs, and into Mike’s bed.

[glimmerbolan]

alamo drafthouse in san francisco had an archival 35mm screening of Head (1968) last night and my friends and i will take any excuse we can to dress up SO. hey hey we are the monkees. absolutely no one else was dressed up but that’s okay bc we served monkee cunt

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Alec Benjamin Songs That Fit the School Master Brothers

Note: Some songs are about couples. Obviously, interpret the lyrics platonically. Links to the songs are embedded in the titles.

⸻

"Let Me Down Slowly"

Rhian to Rafal when Rafal deserted the Schools.

"The Book of You & I"

Fairly self-explanatory. Rhian would be the speaker the majority of the time.

"If We Have Each Other"

The last stanzas fit the most closely:

The world's not perfect, but it's not that bad If we got each other, and that's all we have I will be your brother, and I'll hold your hand You should know I'll be there for you When the world's not perfect, when the world's not kind If we have each other, then we'll both be fine I will be your brother, and I'll hold your hand You should know I'll be there for you

"Hipocrite"

Fala about the Evers at the Circus of Talents.

"Match in the Rain"

Their relationship decay and fire imagery. "Intuition" could be a stand-in for "paranoia," on Rafal's, or really, both brothers' ends.

"Devil Doesn't Bargain"

If Rafal lectured Rhian about his failed romances.

"Oh My God"

The moment when Rhian sobs at the end of Rise, after Hook has poached the brothers' students.

"Demons"

Rhian as the speaker, to Rafal. Rafal kept him Good. Rhian took Rafal for granted. (Well, admittedly, both took the other for granted.) Though, they did balance each other, even if they hadn't known the truth of their souls.

"Mind Is A Prison"

Rhian and his soul's possession of him, the all-consuming rot taking over. How he sometimes once overthought what the Good thing to do was, during the early days of his ruling with Vulcan as Rafal's substitute. Also, in Fall, this would be Rhian in the Doom Room, hanging on the wall alone to be found by the Pirate Captain and Hephaestus, abandoned by Rafal.

"Alamo"

Midas about the brothers, specifically about leaving Rafal after Rafal's betrayal.

"Outrunning Karma"

Vulcan and Hook to an extent, but mainly Rafal. Waiting to die in a sense, trying to prevent the inevitable, gone to fight in the war regardless. Also, this could reference Rafal racing through the night after the storybooks to Gavaldon.

"The Knife in my Back"

The fratricide scene.

@wheretheoceanglows Thank you for the recommendation!

"One Wrong Turn"

Ignore the specifics of the song's storyline. This one elaborates on the nature of predestination and preventability, which could be applied to the Storian and virtually everything. And, the lyrics remind me of the proverb: "For want of a nail":

"For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe the horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the message was lost. For want of a message the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the want of a horseshoe nail."

"Gotta Be a Reason"

Rhian post-Fall as the general, probably feeling futile because his next chance at a supposed True Love is a girl.

[bitter69uk]

Last night I watched the first episode of four-part documentary Ministry of Evil investigating the Alamo Christian Foundation, the notorious abusive cult founded by corrupt husband and wife con artists Tony and Susan Alamo in 1969. Look, the Alamos were horrendous people but as John Waters concludes in his essay “Crimes of Fashion: A Look Inside the Criminal Wardrobe”: “I don’t judge criminals by the terrible crimes they commit, I judge them by what they wear.” On that level, the duo possessed a gloriously trashy Country & Western dress sense with baroque platinum blonde bouffant wiglets (her) and dark Elvis-style shades and sideburns (him). (They made Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker look understated). In their pomp, the Alamos evoked a shitkicker Christian fundamentalist version of Raymond and Connie Marble of Pink Flamingos, or a George Jones and Tammy Wynette tribute act.

[aylacavebear]

She Thought She was Normal

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine

Word Count: 3878

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Warnings: Mention & Insinuations of Sex, some angst, Cussing, Tattoo, Highly Sensitive Person (HPS) discovery for OC

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

Over the next couple of days, things seemed to fall into some sort of routine for the five of them. Dean and Maria didn’t avoid each other, but they’d gotten verbally snarky with each other.

There was more than one occasion where someone would have to remind them to be civil to each other, which they did. When Dean’s phone rang on that third day near noon, he begrudgingly answered it.

“Hello?” he groaned, annoyed at the last comment Maria had made.

“So, where I am supposed to meet someone? I’m in Lebanon,” the man on the other end said.

“Dad?” Dean asked, sitting up in his chair.

“Yeah son,” John told him, and Dean could tell that the man was smiling.

“Meet me at the diner in town,” Dean told him, smiling a little himself.

The other four looked at him, but he didn’t say anything, just grabbed his jacket and keys before he left, leaving them wondering what had been said. They had a vague idea as to the gist of the call, John had made it, finally. They’d still been looking for a way to kill Azazel, wanting to do more than just send the demon back to hell. If they just sent him back to hell, he could just come back to earth to possess a different person, starting his antics all over again. 

An hour later, Dean and John pulled into the garage. John was impressed and Dean was smiling, happily as the two made their way into the war room, then the library, “So, I hear you have some intel on yellow-eyes. Dean wouldn’t tell me anything till we were here,” John said as he stood at the end of the tables in the library.

“Nice to see you too Uncle John,” Maria chuckled.

John chuckled a little in return, a bit uneasy seeing Sam, and the girl next to him, remembering how the two had parted ways a few years back, “I’m just glad you’re okay. You went off radar for a while.”

She smirked, “I wasn’t the only one,” she replied a bit sassy.

“I had my reasons,” John replied.

“Yeah, so did I,” she retorted back.

Damn the girl had gotten mouthy, but he couldn’t help but smirk and chuckle a little, “Alright. So, what’s the news?” he asked.

“His name is Azazel, and he’s a night of hell, or a prince of hell, depending on the lore,” Sam explained.

“Oh, and we’re all getting tattoos,” Jess added.

John ignored the part about the tattoos, “Any luck on finding a way to kill him?” John asked, more serious than before.

“Not that we found yet,” Bobby told him.

“I might be able to help on that front then,” John said, smiling a little.

That got all their attention, “We’re all ears,” Bobby said, and they were all hopeful at this point.

“There’s a legend, or at least that was what I thought it was. A Colt. Back in eighteen thirty-five, when Haley’s comet was overhead, same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter. A man like us, only on horseback. The story goes, he made thirteen bullets. This hunter, used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. They say this gun, can kill anything,” John explained.

“Kill anything like supernatural anything?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. I think I might have tracked it down, to a hunter who might have it,” John replied.

All of them were hopeful at this point, “Tattoos first, then we’ll work on getting it,” Maria said, feeling hopeful for the first time since she’d learned the demon’s name.

“I’m not getting a tattoo,” John chuckled.

“If I have to get one, so do you John,” Bobby grumbled.

Maria grabbed the book with the anti-possession sigil in it, showed it to John, and explained the importance of it. John was not happy but also knew that it was a good way to protect all of them. When Maria saw the comprehension cross John’s face, she smiled, triumphantly. 

“Alright kid, you win. When we doin' this?” John asked, still not keen on getting a tattoo.

“I’ll set it up for tomorrow, give you some time to settle in,” Maria replied, proudly as she moved into the war room to make the phone call.

Dean gave John the tour while Maria made the call, setting it up for when they opened, at nine the following day. Jess had already talked her into getting the tattoo in the same place that she was. Dean and Sam had opted for their chest, near their heart. Bobby on the other hand had decided on his back, over his shoulder, which John would also choose. Maria pulled out chicken for dinner, letting it defrost in the sink until it was time to cook, in a few hours. She felt more than hopeful now. They knew the demon’s name, and now, there might be a way to kill it. They’d also found a summoning spell in one of the books, plus, they had a dungeon to hold the demon in.

Maria was humming to herself as she moved around the kitchen, gathering what she would need for dinner when Dean stopped in his tracks in the doorway, Before she could look over at him though, John moved past him into the kitchen, looking around. That pulled Dean to his senses, putting on that cool guy facade again. John was thoroughly impressed with the bunker.

“To think, Will kept this a secret,” John said quietly, still in awe.

“He was a Men of Letters, or was until before I was born,” Maria said without turning from her task of putting spices on the counter for the chicken.

“Looks like I’ve got a lot to catch up on,” John chuckled.

“Well, I’m gonna get dinner started and can fill you in, if you want,” Maria suggested, “Unless of course, Dean already filled you in,” she said that last part with a smirk as she glanced over at him, letting him know she knew he was there.

He rolled his eyes before he went back into the library, annoyed. John sat down at the kitchen table, “So, what’s up between you two? Still rivals?” he asked, bemused. John knew how Dean felt about her, but it wasn’t his place to bring it up.

“He’s a jerk and yes, we’re still rivals,” she replied plainly, which made John chuckle.

Maria explained what her father had told her in the letter she’d found on her pillow that first day, leaving out the weird stuff about her, that she still hadn’t gotten around to facing. John was fairly impressed and decided it might be nice to have a place to call home again. The thought of being able to be rid of the demon who had killed his wife more than two decades ago had been his only goal since then, even if he had wanted more for his boys than this kind of life.

“I heard about what happened between you and Sam. There’s still time to patch things up,” she suggested as she put the chicken in the oven and turned to look at him.

“That kind of thing works both ways,” he told her.

“So, be the bigger person and understand he’s an adult,” she replied bluntly.

John chuckled a little at her bluntness, “After we take out yellow-eyes. How’s that sound?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She crossed her arms over her chest, “If it were me, I’d do it before. You never know how long you have, being a hunter. It’s not like those that have gone up against Azazel have survived,” she told him, making a point he couldn’t find an argument to.

He took a deep breath and sighed, looking at the table in front of him, “That was a low blow, but I’ll let you have that one, and… I’ll think about it. That’s the best you’re gonna get,” he said quietly.

Maria shook her head and got busy peeling potatoes, annoyed at how stubborn John was, which Dean had clearly gotten from him, although, in a way, so had Sam. John went to the garage and grabbed his bag before looking for a room to at least sleep in for the night. He was still debating staying there, especially with the unspoken conflict between him and Sam. Maria waited till she was working on the gravy before she hollered for Sam, who looked confused when he entered the kitchen.

“What’s up SIs?” he asked her.

She didn’t look over at him, not right away, “You and your dad, you two can patch things up,” she told him.

“Sis…” he said, not wanting to have this conversation.

“I’m serious Sam,” she stated as she turned around, “It might take being the bigger person for once, letting shit go. I know you don’t hate him and you’d be devastated if he died, so don’t lie to me,” she stated, narrowing her eyes a bit, then sighed, “We’re going up against Azazel. He killed both my parents, your mom, and who knows who else he is gonna try to kill to get to us. All I’m saying is that… you have an opportunity, to have a better relationship with your dad, just in case.”

He said nothing, just absorbed her words. She had a point and part of him hated that. Sam grabbed a beer out of the fridge before he went back into the library, lost in his thoughts. Her words had hit him fairly hard. Neither Jess nor Bobby pushed him. They could tell he needed time to think, even if they had no idea what was going through his head.

Dinner came and went and the six of them sat in the library, drinking and sharing stories again. Jess and Maria were looking forward to getting their tattoos in the morning. The guys though, not so much. The girls showered after dinner, shaving their nether regions so that the tattoo could only be barely visible above their jean line, leaving plenty to the imagination of how far down it would go. Maria was having second thoughts about where she had agreed to get the tattoo but knew there was no backing out of it now. 

In the morning, the girls dressed in loose-fitting sweats and went commando for the tattoo, none of the guys knew. Well, Sam knew about Jess’s, but not Maria’s. She was keeping that to herself. Maria found Jess in the kitchen, up just as early as she was, the coffee pot had just finished.

“This is gonna be so much fun,” Jess told her excitedly.

“I’m not sure I can go through with this,” she replied nervously as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Oh come on, don’t wimp out on me now.” Jess pouted.

Maria groaned a little as she sat down across from her, “It’s just… that’s a really sensitive area, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but if you ever end up with a guy, he’ll find it hot as hell. Trust me,” she winked with an insinuating tone.

She rolled her eyes, “I don’t have time for a guy.” Jess chuckled, “Maybe after this whole demon business is done, you might,” she said optimistically.

Again she groaned at the thought. She had spent her entire life being a hunter and wasn’t sure if she’d be able to stop doing it after Azazel was taken care of. She really didn’t know anything else. The guys joined the two of them almost an hour later, looking a little nervous, which made the girls chuckle.

-----------------------------------------

Dean almost burst through the door when he heard Maria let out a pained, quiet scream that sounded also like a groan. He’d already gotten his tattoo and it was tender, but he wasn’t letting on. The girls had been behind that closed door for almost a half hour now and the brothers were trying not to worry. Sam was smiling though, knowing where Jess was getting her tattoo and he couldn’t wait to go exploring to see it all. 

“Remind me to never let that girl talk me into something like this again,” John groaned, joining his sons in the lobby area of the tattoo parlor.

“What’s the matter Dad, don’t plan on getting any more tattoos?” Dean teased him with a smirk.

He ignored that as he joined their gaze on the closed door, “Those two still in there?” he asked.

“Yeah. Sounds like wherever they’re getting theirs, it’s tender,” Dean answered, trying not to sound concerned.

“They’ll be fine,” John chuckled.

Just as Bobby joined them, the door opened. Jess was laughing while Maria was glaring at her a bit, “I’m never letting you talk me into something like that again,” Maria told Jess, feeling the skin where her tattoo was burning a bit, which was normal.

“Just put that burn cream on it like the lady said and you’ll be fine, baby,” Jess teased her before she went over and had an intimate moment with Sam, not even caring that the others were there, “Can’t wait to show you later,” she whispered in his ear.

“Looking forward to it,” Sam smirked.

Dean just rolled his eyes but the adults chuckled. John realized how much his youngest son loved that woman and that was enough for him to decide to be the bigger person and put the past aside. 

“I’m so glad I didn’t drive here,” Maria groaned.

“Rethinking the whole tattoo thing?” Dean teased her as he smirked.

“Shut up,” she growled before she went outside.

The others just chuckled to themselves as Dean found her response amusing. There were only a couple options for driving back, Dean’s Impala or Bobby’s little beat-up car, neither of which were appealing to Maria at the moment. They joined her outside moments later, all of them but Dean went to Bobby’s beat-up car, leaving her to sit with Dean. She glared at Sam who just shrugged with a smirk before he got in Bobby’s car.

“Looks like you’re riding with me sweetheart,” Dean smirked.

Maria looked more than annoyed but got into the passenger seat and crossed her arms, doing her best not to slam the door of the Impala. The car hadn’t done anything wrong and she didn’t want to take her annoyance out on it.

“Don’t call me that,” she said somewhat coldly when he got in the driver’s seat.

Dean made a mental note of her reaction. He figured if he couldn’t talk to her normally, he’d at least find ways of annoying her. It wasn’t the attention he wanted but it was amusing nonetheless, “Alright Sweetheart,” he told her, that damned smirk plastered on his lips again.

Maria didn’t even look at him as she attempted to sit so that the sweats she was wearing didn’t rub against her tattoo. However, the moment he started driving, she felt every bump in the road and made plans not to leave her room when they got back until her tattoo healed. She couldn’t even understand how Jess wasn’t bothered or in pain, let alone had made plans to be intimate with Sam that same night. Give her demons, werewolves, vampires, even ghouls any day of the week, but a tattoo in a very sensitive area and she turned into a baby. She put on a hard outer shell though, not wanting to let Dean see that she was weak.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Dean told her with a smirk as he drove down the one-lane paved road.

She looked out the passenger window, arms still crossed over her chest, “No,” she replied, flatly, but annoyed.

That made Dean raise an eyebrow, more curious than ever about where she’d gotten hers, “What’s the matter, not up for a little show and tell?” 

“Drop it, Dean,” she told him in a low growl, which only made him chuckle.

The moment he parked, she was out of the car before he could even turn off the engine, grabbing two beers before she locked herself in her room. Maria carefully slipped out of her sweats and grabbed one of her oversized shirts out of her dresser, changing into it. However, the bottom portion of it brushed against the tattoo, causing her to push her ass backward before grabbing the shirt to hold it off of her.

“Never again,” she grumbled as she sat down on her bed, carefully. 

Maria put some of the burn cream on it that the tattoo artist had given her, which gave some much-needed relief. The tattoo artist also explained that Maria was more sensitive than most, so it would probably cause her more discomfort than her friend. She popped the beer and took a decent drink out of it when she heard a knock on her door.

“You okay in there?” Jess asked her, trying not to chuckle as Sam was behind her, kissing along her neck.

“I’ll be fine, but I’m never doing that again,” Maria grumbled.

“You gonna come out of there?” Sam asked her.

“No,” Maria replied flatly.

“Dean’s cooking tonight. He’s making burgers. So, at least come out long enough to eat,” Sam chuckled as Jess teased her fingers along his back.

“Would you two just go get a room already and let me be,” Maria groaned, leaning back on the headboard.

“Stop being a baby about this. The tattoo was your idea,” Sam told her, doing his best not to chuckle at her behavior.

“It may have been my idea but your girlfriend out there is nuts and I’ll never let her talk me into anything again,” she grumbled.

All that did was make the two laugh as they walked to their room, leaving Maria to lick her wounds. She could take a beating from a monster but that tattoo had hurt more than any wound she’d ever experienced before. At least the burn cream was helping a little. 

Dean couldn’t resist retrieving her himself. He really wanted to know where she’d gotten her tattoo. Once he was done cooking, he knocked on her door, “Dinner’s ready Sweetheart,” he told her with a smirk as he leaned against the wall next to her door.

“Go away Dean,” she groaned.

“Come on, it’s just a little tattoo,” he pushed.

She could hear the cockiness in his tone and it was annoying her, “Just leave me a plate outside my door,” she grumbled.

“If Jess can come out to eat, so can you,” he teased her, which pissed her off.

The moment she stood up, her shirt brushed against her tattoo, and she inhaled deeply as a pained groaned escaped her lips, “You’re an ass, you know that,” she snapped at him as she carefully slid her sweats back on.

“And you’re being a baby,” he quipped.

“Fuck you,” she muttered under her breath before she unlocked and opened her door. Seeing him there with that smug look and a smirk to match made her want to hit him.

“Awe, what’s the matter Sweetheart?” he asked, more to annoy her than anything.

She pushed him so that his back was against the wall as she forced herself to walk normally, not wanting to give him more ammunition to annoy her. He just laughed a little before he followed her, wondering why she had to look that good in sweats. The others were already sitting at the kitchen table. Maria barely kept the grimace off her face as she sat down, adjusting quickly so her sweats and thighs weren’t touching her tattoo, at all. Most of them caught it and chuckled silently, mostly because getting the tattoo was her idea.

“You alright there kid?” Bobby asked her, raising an eyebrow, sounding amused.

“I’m fine,” she answered, shortness in her tone, which made Dean smirk again.

“Leave her alone Dean,” John told him, noticing the smirk.

“What?” Dean asked innocently as he sat down on the other side of the table.

She glared at him, almost daring him to say something or look at her the wrong way. Due to the burn, she was ready to go off on him. John just gave Dean a look before they all served themselves. Jess found her discomfort hilarious, knowing it would only last a few days while it healed. Whether Maria wanted to admit it or not, Dean was a really good cook. She kept the annoyed look throughout dinner, not giving him the satisfaction of a compliment on the meal. There was some conversation but she stayed out of it, tuning it out due to the burning that had returned to her tattoo. It was quite the turn of events since when they were younger, he had been the one refusing the compliments on her cooking.

“You gonna help clean up?” Sam asked Maria, his face contorting a bit as he did his best to attempt to keep from smiling, let alone laughing. Jess had told him where Maria had gotten her tattoo.

Maria glared at him so badly that if looks could kill, he would have been dead ten times over. That was when Dean lost it laughing. Luckily Maria was done eating. With every ounce of stubbornness she had left, she got up and stomped off to her room, not even flinching at how badly her tattoo burned. It wasn’t until her door was locked behind her that she almost crumbled, carefully removing her sweats before sitting back on her bed as she had before, applying more of the burn cream. A sigh of relief left her lips as she leaned her head back on the headboard.

The way they had messed with her was just how their family was. It was all in fun. She was more annoyed at herself for being so sensitive down there than anything, something she wouldn’t have known without the tattoo experience. She also vowed to never again let Jess talk her into anything else like this, ever again. Maria glanced at the book on her night table. She hadn’t moved it since the night she had set it there and debated reading it. She had no plans of leaving her room anyway, not until her tattoo healed more first. 

“Not tonight,” she sighed quietly before climbing under covers.

That was when she realized that sleeping was going to be an even bigger issue for her. How was she supposed to even get comfortable and not let anything touch that spot? Then she remembered the little bit of gauze the tattoo artist had given her for the first night. She carefully climbed out of bed and pulled it out of her sweatpants pocket. Maria applied a little more of the ointment before applying the gauze bandage, sighing at the feeling of relief. Maria had been too distracted by the pain to remember everything that the tattoo artist had told her and hadn’t been in the mood to ask Jess. She wasn’t in the mood now either, but planned on asking her in the morning, or whenever she rolled out of bed.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 16

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67

Link to the master list for this story.

[myrskytuuli]

I saw Oppenheimer last night, and the thing about the movie is that if you already believe that USA is the greatest, you will see Truman walking up to the protesting Oppenheimer and sayin “You brought our boys back home” and be like fuck yeah!! WIN!!

But if you already think that there was something funky with the dropping of atomic bombs, you will see the scene where Oppenheimer is unable to choose a basic moral criteria to defend when questioned, sees the scene where the government officials go through the list of Japanese cities to destroy like a bunch of giggling high-schoolers, sees the scenes of scientists desperately trying to get Oppenheimer to sign the petition to not use the bombs, and you will be like, damn what a horrible war crime.

I genuinely thought it was a good movie, it’s just not going to change anyone’s mind if they already have an opinion. The impact of the Nuclear testing on local Alamo people could have also been explored more, like that’s the one part where I feel like it’s muddying the waters a bit. The fact that they never showed Hiroshima or Nagasaki aftermath felt very much like an artistic choice. Because we do get to see a scene of the scientists watching footage of the aftertmath, without that footage being shown to us. So the clear artistic intention is in “how did the scientist react” not what did the radiation burns look like.

[weirdworldofwinnie]

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

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

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

Word Count: ~4,608

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

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

Part One here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is this about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rob-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was taken care of."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who told you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, what does it matter?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Robert glanced down at his shoes, speaking bitterly.

"She would not want to hear from me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then don't make me."

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

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

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

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

You groaned softly, shutting your eyes to the ceiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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