#bobby kennedy rpf

[melancholicstation]

pov: you're a break-out film star in the 70s and meet bobby at a palm springs soirée

[ddlydevotion]

bobby kennedy ‘rfk’ x fem reader husband hcs…

currently listening to: Tomorrow Never Came by LDR ݁₊ ⊹ . !!

Bobby isn’t a stranger to having a rebellious streak every once in a while. He has absolutely no issue going up against his parents with the purpose of defending you. If your upbringing or religion (or lack thereof) comes into discussion, he’s defending you as if the world will end if he doesn’t.

He’ll most likely resort to straight up lying about your religious status if it means saving you from his parent’s wrath.

He’s constantly making you laugh with his witty remarks. There’s been many moments where he’s made you laugh unintentionally but it makes him smile knowing he’s the one who’s made you giggle. It is one of his favorite sounds, after all.

Bobby worries much more than he’d like to about his brother, Jack, trying to make a move on you. He knows his brother, I mean he’s seen the way his brother deals with his urges. He also knows full well that the fact Jack is married won’t stop him from indulging in his desires. As Evan Thomas said: “He needed to indulge this phenomenal and really unseemly sex drive. It was for rich girls, poor girls, old girls, young girls, all girls all the time.”

Bobby puts up a somewhat hard exterior in public because that is what’s necessary when pursuing a career in politics. However, he’s sickeningly sweet when it comes to you. He cannot contain his love for you even when the two of you are in front of dozens of cameras.

There are dozens upon dozens of photos of the two of you looking at each other like lovesick puppies.

Bobby rarely ever gets angry with you. For the simple fact that he’s considered the ‘softer’ one of the brothers, I believe he’d do an incredible job at comforting you. He’s a sturdy shoulder for you to lean on and he takes great pride in being so. He’d hate for you to feel as if you need to hide your feelings, negative or positive.

He is sososo gentle with you in general but especially when you’re crying and in need of comfort. He’ll hold you within his arms that give the illusion of a warm blanket, and kiss your hair.

This man is constantly taking photographs of you 🙄. There’s no use in attempting to hide behind your hands because he’ll just take a photo of that, too. Has a habit of writing the cutest of things on these photographs.

can get a bit insecure when it comes to certain aspects of his political abilities, but you’re always there to reassure him. He leans into your touch and his face is painted with a shy smile as a result of your praise.

“The people adore you, Bobby. They love you. Not as much as me, of course, but you’re the number one candidate in their hearts. Okay?”

Never fails to thank you in his speeches.

Calls you sweet girl, baby, sweetheart, honey. All of those little nicknames fall off his tongue oh so sweetly.

spoils you endlessly. He’s amazing when it comes to gift giving and uses that to his advantage. He remembers every little thing about you and it truly shines through in not just his gift giving, but also in every aspect of your relationship.

It’s quite a lot to get used to as you’re not used to being surrounded with such obvious symbols of wealth. Don’t even bother trying to stop him from spending his very well earned money on you. He’s simply going to press a lingering kiss to your lips before saying, “let me take care of my girl.”

He’s painfully devoted to you. The two of you got married very early on in your relationship. He didn’t see the point in waiting.

Sharing beautiful evenings with him by the sea in Hyannis Port. Films you lying underneath the sun shade, draped in the bathing suit he purchased for you. He swears, there’s nowhere he’d rather be than right there with you.

a/n: I hope you enjoyed reading and I’ll most likely do a part two 💌🪽🍨.

Taglist: @bobbykennedyswife @melancholicstation @lancerslover @vintagedebutante

[theverystrangegirl27]

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

Let Me Put My Lips To Somethin'

Summary: Bobby wants to try something new, but you're a little hesitant. With a few reassurances, Bobby shows you how much he adores you.

Warnings: smut, oral (f), face sitting, oral sex

"Bobby, what if I suffocate you or something?”

You're straddling your husband, hands on his naked chest as you eye him warily. Bobby's propped up on one of your silk pillows, looking up at you like you hung the moon.

You want him so badly.

“You won't, Y/N, really,” Bobby says, running soothing circles into your thighs. “And besides, would it be such a horrible way to go?”

You roll your eyes, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips.

“You're a fool, Bobby.”

He smiles into the next kiss, big hands sliding up your waist.

“Only for you.”

You melt into the kiss, a little dazed with arousal as you rock forward against him. You slide your sopping pussy up against the hard line of his cock, the both of you sighing at the contact. With a hand on your back, he stills you.

“C'mon, honey.” Bobby says, sounding reverent. “Sit on my face. Let me make you feel good.”

Who are you to refuse him?

Bobby keeps a firm grip on your waist as you shuffle forward, biting your lip and blushing pink as he gets an eye full of your bare, flushed cunt.

Once your thighs are around his head, he kisses the inside of one, eyes meeting yours before he taps your hip.

“Come on, pretty girl.”

With a shuddering breath, you lower yourself, Bobby's lips finding the plush skin of your folds. You gasp as his tongue darts out to lap at you softly, and you grip the headboard as his hands tighten around your waist.

“B-Bobby,” You sigh, eyebrows scrunched together as he guides your hips, a muffled sound of pleasure leaving him as he begins to tease your clit.

One of the things you love the most about your husband is his determination, how eager he is to achieve whichever goal he's got set at the moment.

Right now, he seems to be set on making you come so hard your legs give out.

With firm, thorough licks and the slight tease of his fingers, Bobby has you crying out softly. You throw your head back, eyes shut tightly as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

You roll your hips, unable to stop yourself as the pleasure grows and grows inside of you.

Beneath you, Bobby groans, muffled and unashamed as he eats you out with enthusiasm, like this is the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life.

You don't know where to put your hands - you grasp the headboard, nails scratching into the dark wood, then you run another through his hair. Overwhelmed, your thighs start to tremble.

“Oh, God,” you gasp, and Bobby pulls you in by the waist, shuffling you closer like he can't get enough.

It's almost too much. The way his hot, wet tongue feels against the softness of your cunt, how his eyes are closed as if in prayer- you are the altar at which Bobby worships, what he gladly falls to his knees for almost every night.

Your heart swells as the pleasure reaches its peak.

“Bobby, Bobby, I'm gonna come-” You whimper, trying your best to control the bucking of your hips, but with his tongue as sinful as it is, you never stood a chance.

The noises that fill the room are wet, downright obscene as his lips and tongue go to work on you. They never halt nor falter as he picks up the pace with his fingers. The tips of them enter you with slow, precise movements that make you feel hot and melting on the inside.

If Bobby wasn't gripping you so tightly, you feel as though you'd float away.

Another thing about your man is that's he's a generous lover- you know this isn't going to be your only orgasm of the night, so when it hits you, you let it wash over you in intense, earth shattering waves, with the knowledge that you won't be leaving this room until he's left you nothing more than a puddle of liquid pleasure.

“Bobby! ” You whisper-shout, not wanting to wake the kids in the next room.

You hang your head between your arms, hands gripping the headboard so tight your knuckles are white. Bobby's got his fingers deep inside you, hitting that spot that makes your mouth tremble open around shaking gasps.

Eventually, when it becomes too much to handle, you lean back. His mouth seems to chase the movement, and you smile stupidly.

Bobby's eyes are glimmering and dazed, mouth and the tip of his nose wet. He pants, licking his lips to catch your essence on his tongue.

You love how crazy you make each other.

When his eyes find yours, he smiles.

“Told you I'd make you feel good.”

You huff a breathless laugh, and he kisses the inside of your thigh.

“Once I catch my breath,” you tell him, starting to shuffle down his body slowly. “I'm gonna make you see stars, Senator.”

His eyes darken with arousal.

“I'm looking at one right now, I think.” Bobby's hand comes up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and you smile before kissing your way down his body.

With one hand, you grasp his cock, delighting in the slight hiss he lets out as you gently stroke him. You glance up at Bobby as you tease the tip with your lips, his gaze fixed on yours, and you smile as you take him into your mouth.

The night is far from over, and you feel like repaying your loving husband over, over, and over again.

[kennedyism]

(last bobby confession anon)

i would GLADLY take a fanfic (x reader or no) about that, if you would be so willing 🙏

I GOT YOU ANON!!!!

Favoritism.

Bobby Kennedy x Secretary!Reader

Summary: You’ve been a secretary for Bobby for quite awhile, but you’re thinking about quitting. What does the senator have to say about that? (Takes place in 1967)

Warnings: Don’t take this fic seriously, this is mainly just for fun. Don’t come for me lol.

Taglist: @quietamericans @jackiesgirl @obsessedwithjohnjr, @fortheloveofjos, @melancholicstation, @rocker-chick-7, @bleatngheart (tell me if u wanna be in my taglist dm me or send it in my inbox and i’ll add you! sorry if i forgot anyone :()

author’s note: slightly inspired by the song favorite by isabel larosa ITS SUCH A GOOD SONG BRO

Bobby sits in his swivel chair, tapping his fingers on his wooden desk, he then sighs. It’s too late for him to be here, but here he is! He then looks at the box of campaign posters next to him. God, he looks awful in them, but then he remembers the moment his secretary brought them to him.

“Senator Kennedy, I got those posters you ordered.”

“Open them up, lemme see.”

He then opened the box.

“Christ, is this how I look to people? Get these out of here.”

“They’re not that bad, Senator. I think they’re rather nice.”

He kept them obviously. He’ll get used to them. He then looks at the clock, listening to it tick. The senator is then taken from his train of thought when there’s a knock on the door. “Come in!” He says, straightening himself up in his chair, but he puts his feet on the desk which makes it more of a casual appearance. It’s a bad habit, really.

You then walk in, your purse in hand and hat on your head. “Senator, I’m heading out for the night, but can I talk to you about something?” You ask, leaning in the doorway, looking at him. Being Bobby Kennedy’s secretary is amazing. He’s a great boss, but you don’t get home until late, you hardly have time for your own life… it’s time to resign, as much as that hurts you.

Bobby motions for you to sit down. “Yeah, what is it?” He asks, looking at his shoes on his desk, then you. Perhaps he shouldn’t sit like this in front of a lady. That doesn’t cross his mind until a few seconds later and with that, his feet are the floor and he folds his hands in front of him.

“I want to quit.”

You feel the silence strike you two for about 30 seconds before you begin to talk again, realizing how much you probably just offended the senator. “Not—Not because you’ve done anything!” You say, a blush painting you cheeks, trying to find the words as he stares at you a bit confused.

“I didn’t think I did.” Bobby shrugs. He still acts like he did when he was attorney general—a bit cold. He doesn’t mean to, it just his nature. He then sighs, growing more confused. He tries to think on the reasons you would even want to quit. “Is there a reason why?” He asks you, getting more comfortable in his chair, his foot tapping the wood underneath.

You then take in a breath. “I don’t have time for anything else but being here. I’m constantly having to turn down friends and family to be here.” You explain with a soft sigh, then you look at him. “I just think there’s better opportunities out there for me.” You finish, feeling a bit guilty. It’s been amazing here, but you have a life… kind of. You then look at Bobby who’s silent for about couple seconds.

“I’m not going to hold it against you.” He says, rubbing his temple, before looking up at you with a slight smile. “I can understand how that can get in the way.” He says, but he’s truly a bit sad that you’re leaving him. He’s never had anyone like you. Work wise and friend wise.

You then click your tongue. “Well, there’s plenty of others wanting to work for you and they would kill to, you know.” You tell him, staring to slowly wonder if this is the right choice—Nope! It is. No turning back now. You then watch his lips curl into a slight smile.

“Yeah, but you are my favorite.”

Favorite.

That word leaves an indent on in your soul. He called you his favorite. You then blink, trying to shake it off. “Senator, I just… I want to stay here, but I can’t.” You tell him, his sentence playing over and over in your mind. How does he do it? He leaves such an impression on others… you included.

Bobby stands up, going behind you, one of his hands touching the arm of the chair. “I want you to stay.” He says, looking down at you, and you look back up at him. Wow, what a view. He then moves over to the door, opening it. “But I can’t force you to stay.” He sighs, feeling defeated as he crosses his arms and waits for you to stand up.

You then stand up, purse in hand, walking towards the door, looking at the senator. Both of your eyes meeting. You watch Bobby put his hand on the frame, looking at you, and you feel guilty. You don’t want to leave him. You’ve had many great memories, but it’s for the best.

“Still gonna visit me, right?”

“Senator, I’m not moving to Europe, obviously I will.”

“Just thought I’d check.”

You two then stare at each other. Bobby has very pretty eyes. They’re so gentle to look into. It unfortunately has to be this way though. Bobby then reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder, looking at the ground, then back at you. You’ve always felt somewhat of an attraction to the senator, even if you’d rather die than admit it, but he isn’t making this easy at all.

You then feel yourself getting closer to him, and he isn’t moving, so you assume he’s into this. You then kiss him, softly and then you feel his hands move up to cup your cheeks, leaving soft feather like touches on your skin. You truly are his favorite.

“I told you were my favorite.” Bobby mutters to you, gently pulling away, looking at you. Then he moves some of your hair out of your face. His touch is lovely to witness and bear. You feel lucky to receive such touch from him.

“I wanna keep being your favorite.”

“So you’re gonna stay?”

“I’m gonna stay.”

[strryhaze]

as a wise person once said, “shipping real people is a disease.”

[ “a disease that i have.” ]

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

Unadvised (getting so close to someone so quickly)

pairing: robert kennedy x oc (ava worthing) synopsis: months fly by and bobby is surely falling in love with ava, even if the timing isn't exactly ideal. warnings: nothing that crazy tbh, joe sr. being an asshole in passing, mentions of bobby loathing lbj. word count: 2,254 notes: after a long time, bobby and ava's story continues. i'm posting this on valentine's day, so happy valentine's, this is your little gift from me to you, readers. here is part 3.

There was a date, then two, then five and more than a dozen in the summer of ‘59, nothing explicit, for in Bobby’s family, he was the more prudish and least lewd of his brothers. But there was a linger of deep desire for Ava, that he began to fester inside him, with or without her near him.  

One month turned to two and so on. Bobby couldn’t help but enjoy any moment of her presence. But such joy wasn’t to be permanent. Jack’s presidential campaign for the party nomination was coming to a head. He was helping lay the groundwork in several states for the campaign, meaning he was travelling all around the country.

He was also managing it, and he knew what words his father would inevitably say to him. “No distractions, head in the game if we want Jack in the White House in January ‘61. After that, do who- or whatever you want. Until then, keep your nose clean and your goal is the campaign.”  

Which the patriarch Joseph P. Kennedy did say to Bobby, no earlier than in late October 1959. 

“Bobby, I know you’ve found some company for yourself, and your mother and I couldn’t be happier. But if she’s going to become a liability or a distraction, then you need to end it. Nothing is going to stand in my... Jack’s way to the White House. No young graduate who’s turned your head, no one.” 

Bobby understood the possible image it would taint. But Ava wasn’t wholly undesirable. She was raised Catholic, came from a good background (her father ran a widely successful publishing company in New York), and was educated. Sure, she was younger than him. The same could be said for Jack and his wife Jacqueline, who had a gap of twelve years, same as him and Ava. So, it wasn’t all that unseemly. However, he argued with himself, it wouldn’t exactly look the best if his courtship would be made public. “Campaign manager is busier with his girlfriend than the campaign” or some headline like that passed through his mind. Because it would derive attention away from Jack and his campaign. Which wasn’t the goal. 

All in all, Joe Sr.’s words meant in short: “Keep this to yourself, don’t overshadow your brother. Don’t bring attention to yourself.” 

And Bobby did what he thought was best. 

He busied himself more with the campaign. Ava was away in the fall and most of the winter of ‘59 anyway. On a ‘worldliness tour’ was what Ava jokingly called it when sending Bobby letters, handwritten letters from Rome, Paris, Tokyo, Berlin and London. He missed her terribly, so terribly in fact he kept one of her letters tucked in a pocket of his slacks or whatever form of pants he wore. He, one time, mistakenly had tucked a letter in his shorts while down in Palm Beach during the holidays and his younger sister Pat had pushed him into the pool. The result was a soaked and ruined letter. Something he fretted over, but to his disdain was unsalvageable. Still, he didn’t deter from keeping a part of her with him at all times. 

--- 

On January 3rd, 1960, Senator John F. Kennedy announced his choice to seek the Democratic Parties nomination for president of the United States of America, meaning the campaign was fully on.  

--- 

April 1960 

Ava was back now. And after settling herself in her shared apartment in Foxhall Village, a neighbourhood in D.C, not that far from Georgetown. She didn’t have a day job yet, and she didn’t really need one, but she knew she had to find something to occupy her days with.  

The phone rings in the hallway, she picks up the black handle. “Hello?” 

“Hello, Ava.” Bobby’s voice crackled through the receiver. 

“Hi, Bobby. Remind me, where are you again?” Ava rested the handle in the crook of her neck as she took the rotary phone into her hand and moved it into her living room, free hand pulling on the long black cord as she collapsed into a blue armchair.

“West Virgnia, the primary-” 

“Jack’s facing off Humphrey, yes, I remember.” She cut him off, remembering. “Oh, sorry, I talked over you.” 

“No, no. I’m glad you remembered, and you can talk over me all you want.” He said things like that, making her insides feel a bit warm and fuzzy. 

“Are you sure? I know it’s a bad habit.” 

“I’m sure, Ava. I like listening to you talk...I miss that.” 

“Should I buy myself a Dictaphone and record myself, and send you the tapes?” A slight laugh came from the other line. 

“I don’t think you have to go to that much trouble for me.” He tried to verbally wave off the idea. 

“Oh, but you’re worth the trouble.” She insisted. Ava had noticed that Bobby could put himself down and downplay his own qualities, and she didn’t like it one bit. 

“Just hearing your voice is enough...and it reminds me that at least one person is definetly voting for Jack.”  

She chuckled and tried to parry his words. “Are you sure, I might swing my vote, who knows?” 

“Oh.” That ‘oh’ meant he had been serious when he said what he said. 

Ava backtracked instantly. “Hey, no ‘oh’, I was kidding, of course I’m voting blue. You know my family votes blue no matter who it is. And if it’s Jack, all the better.” 

“I...I knew that...that you were kidding.” His voice became more high-pitched and reedy when he was nervous or feeling insecure. 

“Bobby, let’s move on. I’m voting Kennedy after your brother takes the nod at the DNC. We’re good, okay? Now, when did you think we could go out for-” 

“I want you to meet my parents.” He said it so fast she was almost sure she misunderstood. 

Ava froze and an empty airspace formed on the phone line. 

She managed to find her voice: “Wa-wait, what? You want me to- Bobby, I’m flattered-” 

“Oh.” Another damn ‘oh’. 

“Let me finish, all right?” 

A hum came from Bobby’s end. 

“Good boy.” A spurt of laughter. “As I was saying. I’m flattered, but are you sure we’re at that point? And you sure they want to meet me during such a important time for your family?” 

“You’re important to me.” He mumbled, softly, Ava almost couldn’t hear him. 

“Yes, I’ve gathered as much. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have stuck around even when I was abroad. You know most men, younger, would have found another, while their girlfriend is away abroad.” 

“Well...I do know. That was how Ethel and I...” Yes, the ex, a bit of sore spot, if both sides were honest. It was a shadow that they had yet overcome, and it still brought an air of awkwardness to any conversation she came up in. “...her older sister was abroad, and Ethel..and I...” 

“Ah, I see.” 

“No, but you don’t. I... I learned from that, and I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“Firstly, since I have no younger sister to swoop in and take you away.” Ava deadpanned, making Bobby let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Yes, I know that. And she would be too young anyway.” A pause. “Ava, I promise, I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“I know, Bobby.” 

“Good, good. I want you to know that.” 

“Good, I know.” 

“Maybe, you’re right, about it...maybe we’re not at that point, yet. But my family is very important to me and they’re a big part of my life. And you’ve well...” 

“Yes. All right, why don’t you get your brother through the West Virgnia primary, and we’ll table this? But we will talk about this again.” 

 “You sure? We could just forget-” 

“No, Bobby. We-I want to talk about it, just not over the telephone maybe, while you don’t have six hundred campaign problems clouding your brain?” 

“Okay, you’re probably right.” He conceded. 

“You know what would solve our long-distance problem?” 

“What?” 

“If I just volunteered to work for the campaign, then I’d get to travel with you and you wouldn’t have to miss me so terribly, as you do.” 

“I... I wouldn’t want to be your superior and... boss you around. I couldn’t be seen giving you special treatment. Even if you’re my...girlfriend.” Ava knew he was blushing; he did every time he called her his girlfriend. “It would be...” 

“...nice to have me around. I can type. I can lick stamps. I’d be a good worker, come on, Bobby. Please.”  

“Ava, I... I don’t think that...it’s the best idea.” 

“But don’t you miss me?” 

“Of course, I do.” 

“Then...” 

He gave in. “You’re very determined when you want something, it’s almost irritating.” 

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.” 

“No, it isn’t. And when I see you again, I’ll prove you wrong.”  

“I’ll be waiting.” 

---

Ava managed to insert herself quite well into the campaign, being a diligent worker at the headquarters in Boston, where she saw how Bobby managed the campaign with almost military and micro-managing precision. She saw that he could bite someone's head off if they were slacking off, so she knew to always look to be doing something even if she noticed he shifted his tone when he talked to her. His hand would sometimes graze her arm when he asked her for updates on phone calls she made or telegrams she sent. 

During the DNC she managed beforehand to register as a delegate from the New York state delegation, so she was down on the convention floor, cajoling delegates (many older than her) as best as she could. All the while, she and Bobby managed some private rendezvous in their hotel rooms. 

On the morning after the Democratic presidential nomination was secured for the Kennedy campaign, the choice of VP was made in the early hours. 

Bobby, not liking the choice that Jack had made, choosing Senate Majority Leader Lyndon Baines Johnson to be VP, tried in vain to convince LBJ to not join the ticket.

Defeated and irritated after trying to one last time have Jack change his mind and failing, he went over to Ava’s hotel room. He knocked on the door, waiting. 

A moment later, Ava’s figure appeared (wearing a blue silk nightgown with a robe over it) with the door opening. “Who is it?” She knew what choice had been made, but just not the who. 

She knew it wasn’t someone Bobby liked, seeing as he looked like a sad puppy. 

“Johnson.” He scoffed, pushing into her room and flopping onto her bed, behaving not like a grown man, but more like a petulant child. 

“Ah. At least you have a better chance in the South, if he can rally the Dixiecrats.” She offered him the bright side, but he let out a huff and buried his face in her pillows. “Bobby. Come on.” She sat on the bed and gently touched his shoulder. “All is not lost.” 

“But he is a brute who spread stories about Jack just before balloting. I... I don’t trust him, and... ugh.” The more irritated he’d get, the less literate. 

“I know. But that’s just how politics works, you have a enemy who’s trying to stab you in the back, but the next day, you need him as an ally, so he won’t killed by the third guy, who’s after the both of you.” 

“How eloquently put, Miss Worthing.” He turned to lay on his side, a messy forelock of hair in his face. 

Ava pushed it aside, making Bobby sigh as his eyes closed. “A literature degree comes in handy.” 

A small smile came to his lips, and he peeled his eyes open, pale blue eyes catching her grey ones. “You are...something else. You’re much more democratic than I took you for. And you surprise me, constantly. You know so much more than you let on.” 

“Well, I’m a fast learner. When I got you to let me join the campaign, the next day I was at the nearest library.” 

He reached out a hand and his fingers twisted in her hair. “And so, from books you got this... almost calming wisdom? Are you sure you’re the younger one in our pair? I feel like I’m schooled by you more often than not.” 

She chuckled shyly. “Well, I wouldn’t call it wisdom. And I don’t like the thought that I’m making you feel less than.” 

“Which you don’t. I feel...like I don’t deserve you half the time. Because, you're…wonderful." He tugged at the strands of her hair between his fingers, pulling her down to his face.

Smiling, one hand rest on the mattress to steady herself as her face was lowered to his. Their lips touched, careful, but comfortable. The way Bobby touched her was like he was handling fine china or witnessing something sacred. He wasn't too rough with her, since he treasured feeling her mouth against his, his fingers still tangled in her hair. He pulled her closer, making her fall on top of him, letting out a surprised giggle, which did make him more eager.

Her hands had found themselves on his the base of his neck, the back of his head resting against one of her pillows. His hand, that was not tangled in her hair, grasped at her upper back.

Carnal pleasure was a sin, right?

He'd repent later, he needed her more than safe passage to Heaven, right now.

///

Taglist: @jackiesgirl, @theverystrangegirl27, @fortheloveofjos, @kennediva, @stargiirl27, @melancholicstation , @bleatngheart , @rocker-chick-7 , @kimcrystal123

masterlist and earlier parts: Unexpected, Unthinkable.

[h-l-vlovesvintage]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Political RPF - US 20th c., Historical RPF Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Robert F. Kennedy/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Robert F. Kennedy, John F. Kennedy, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Joseph P. Kennedy Sr. (1888-1969), Eunice Kennedy Shriver, Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy, Original Characters, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Kennedy Family (US Political RPF) Additional Tags: Age Difference, Meet-Cute, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - 1960s Series: Part 2 of Kennedy RPF's (JFK, Jackie O, RFK) Summary:

It was an unexpected turn for Robert when Ethel chose God over him and left their relationship to join a convent. He understood her to some measurement as a Catholic, yet a part of him thought he had found the one. He decided to dedicate himself not to God but help his older brother on his growing political and government career.

So, in 1949, even with a broken heart he went on with his studies at the University of Virginia. He made a few good friends and befriended Alec Worthing, whose younger sister he ended up meeting in 1958 at a campaign celebration party for Jack after he was re-elected to the Senate after winning against Republican lawyer Vincent J. Celeste. 

[vintagedebutante]

i miss President/Kennedy confessions blog posts on my dash so for christmas PLS send ur wildest kennedy confessions to me and I’ll publish them without my added opinion in response hehe

18+ !! pls feel free to be as spicy as u want

I don’t judge

[duchess-blanche]

getting dragged back into my prison cell (kennedy obsession) after 4 years because of the elections and the jack schlossberg renaissance 😔😔😔

[melancholicstation]

Salvatore can wait, now it's time to eat soft ice cream — bobby f. kennedy

As Jack's wife many may propose your sex life to be exuberant and quite frequent: in reality it's nothing of the sort. After having your beautiful baby-girl Enya, you'd expressed fears and insecurities of being intimate about your new post-baby body with Jack to which he kindly dismissed them telling you that he loved you even more now. While hearing those words from a man you've loved half your life warmed your heart his sentiments fail to quell your fears. However, what sets you free from all your present worries and gives you release is in fact his own brother and your brother in-law: Robert.

taglist: @vile-harlot @dulcegal @rockstarfreddybby @starsprangledgirl @bluelancergirl @hisamericanmuse @violetharmonsfavgf @vampyiricris @rocker-chick-7 @reptaysgf @castiellover77 @salvatoresablondie @mckinleygirl98 @h-l-vlovesvintage @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @monturi @darcyspirits @unmarlou @remotewatch @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @fortheloveofjos @strip-weather-forecast @ultr4v1ol3nt @acrowdedstreetin1944

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, postpartum insecurities, possible inaccuracies to do with pregnancy and postpartum as i have never been pregnant before, infidelity, nipple play, desperate catholic man, unprotected sex, drunk sex, fingering, being eaten out, 18+

words: 2,950 words

It was a quiet morning for you. A statement that you could rarely ever leave your mouth truthfully due to your residence being that big egg-shell coloured house located at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington—or how it's more commonly referred to as the White House. But you weren't in the White House, no, you for now were in the land of fado, wine, and poetry: Portugal.

Taking advantage of the barren land in your calendar managed by your assistant spacing between the 21st and the 28th you had decided to go visit your sorority sister, Alma, and her sprawling Lisboa estate 'Quinta da Abrigada'—or at least that's what she'd called it in her letters inviting you to the country house. You'd been initially apprehensive, a cross-country flight with a 6 month old baby seemed to be a recipe for complete and total disaster. Not to mention the press coverage, nit-picking your choices labelling you as an unfit mother, while hailing Jack as the dotting husband and father. Which he was, though that was when he was there which proved to be scarce.

Despite this worry of yours the person who truly convinced you was not Alma herself and her gushing about the residencies sparkling woods and breathing taking views of the Serra do Montejunto. In fact it was your very own tousled hair, chiseled jaw, president of the United States husband: Jack.

Apparently, in his astute opinion, he believed that some time away from the unrelenting US press and the ever thinning tightrope of public opinion would be good for you and the baby. Initially you'd worried that it would be to distressing for your little Enya to be away from her father that much for more than a couple days—you swore that you'd read a dreadful story in women's weekly of a baby forgetting the face of one of their own parent! You retold this story to Jack to which he only chuckled, and delicately cupped your face teasingly tapping the tip of your nose. In response to this he'd told you that once he'd finished up scheduled business in Palm Beach that he'd fly to Lisboa on the SAM 26000 Boeing. That was on the night before the 21st, and after listening to your husband you'd confirmed with Alma that you were in fact coming.

However it was now the 24th and Jack still hadn't shown up, and you were given no indication that he was ever going to.

Your melancholy about your marital situation was intermittently interrupted for a few days by Alma keeping you an incredibly busy working woman. You see, she was trying to convert the Portuguese country home into a fully functioning hotel and a wedding venue—she would never admit it to you or to herself but you had a sneaking suspicion it was a true vanity project in every sense of the word. You'd heard rumblings between European socialites that her Argentinian polo player husband was growing weary of her shopping sprees down at the Avenida da Liberdade and the last straw was a wine-filled rampage of the strip boutiques on Castilho Strett that ended in a bill of over sixty-two thousand euros.

Despite positioning your Portugal stay as a vacation Alma really put you to hard labour. Or at least your version of hard labour at 6 months postpartum which was lugging the ostentatious amount of floral and foliage arrangements for the happy couples who'd chosen the Portuguese country home to be a witness to their holy matrimony.

By 4 pm you were done for the day having laid out the varied bouquets of chocolate cosmos, primroses, hollyhocks, and wisteria. Some were incased by crystal glassed vase, like a trapped ballerina forced to spin inside of a music box. While others were allowed to roam free, tangled up the arched walls of the chapel, propped up by short and stumpy neoclassical stone pillars.

You'd initially underestimated how unhappy it would make you to see couples—each more happy than their former. It made you want to take a microscope to the state of your own marriage and shred it open. How unrecognisable you both were to the versions of yourselves that had walked down that Rhode Island aisle that day. Your marriage to Jack wasn't bad by any means: it was just different than it had been at the beginning. After having a child your relationship with Jack had morphed into more of a companionship rather than a romantic relationship. He'd become more distant: working later hours and coming to the west wing smelling of palo santo and black current bud.

A stark contrast to your personalised musk of waffle cone accord and vanilla...

But you were committed to make your marriage stick. For your sake, for your children's sake, and for the sake of Jake's whole presidential career. You were each other's best friend but sometimes, all of the time, you'd just wish he would touch and cherish you like a lover. You just wish he would be soft with your heart every once in a while.

You'd hoped a European getaway for the both of you would make some difference, but it seemed that Jack had made his choice. And so will you.

Because you had been such a help around the home Alma decided to watch Enya while you helped the florists prepare, the last time you saw your baby-girl was only a few short hours ago and yet your heart felt like it was being ripped from your chest.

Dusting yourself off, brushing away the cut stems of flowers and pollen from various flowers that were sure to stain the surplus of linen matching sets you had brought along with you, you made a bee-line away from the chapel and towards the main house. Maybe Alma truly was on to something about making the sprawling estate into a hotel what with its ample land of approximately 1,350,794 Sq Ft.

Due to its overwhelming size Alma had allowed you to stay in the third wing of country home which had been newly renovated to accommodate for her aspirations of it one day becoming an auberge, but much, much large. With its many rooms you and Alma, and Jack if he bothered to show, were more than comfortable. Though you could afford it with the shear square footage of the wing, Alma's cot stayed with you directly to the side of your king sized bed, a welcomed addition of the renovations by you.

You couldn't believe that Alma was taking this kind of project on, to you just planning it all out seemed hugely anal. What with all the construction needed to implement tarred streets, sidewalks, public lighting, water pipes, sewage, electrical and network cables at the entrance of each lot. I mean it was a lot.

As you push open the door connecting the wing you immediately b-line for the washroom: eager to get the confused scents of opposing flowers off of you this instant. You thought back to your conversation with Alma, remembering that she would be watching her until 5pm: delightful. Despite the absence of your daughter resting on your chest being deeply felt by you, it was a blessing to be able to take your time in the shower. A privilege that you had taken for granted in your twenties.

Apparently your darling Alma, along with Alma's own older children, was going to get a private tour of the romantic woods, the various sycamore trees, and even the proprietary chapel in between the scheduled weddings that day. You'd gathered that by now, taking a look at your watch while you start to disrobe for the shower, Alma and Enya would have already stopped by the church by now.

During your shower you lathered yourself with your 'garden essentials' body wash the scent of California lavender leaving you with a camphorous scent, awakening your senses invigorating you for the evening. Next, you applied a scotch pine shampoo bar to your scalp-a gift from one of your Californian friends from elementary school who'd turned to the all natural life—whatever that meant. Once out of the shower you palmed a hair oil blend of argan oil, natural antioxidants and fatty acids, pear seed oil, and castor oil throughout your locks. Since getting pregnant and after giving birth you had seen a direct decline in the thickness of your hair and an increase in hair loss, a symptom of postpartum you absolutely detested. Activating the arrival of your baby soon you'd decided to get your hair out of your face, since her favourite pastime of late seemed to be yanking your strands of hair with remarkable strength.

Speaking of postpartum symptoms... since you had started breastfeeding your baby girl, your nipples had gone increasingly sore and sensitive especially at nights. As a preemptive measure you put some nipple cream given to you by a midwife and went along with your out of shower routine slathering on your personal favourite body oil that you'd dispersed into a travel size bottle.

Moving out the bathroom after dressing your put on immediate edge. Despite its size you hear noises coming from the room adjacent to the bathroom you'd just stepped out of—the bedroom you and Enya had been staying in.

Ice hot horror had bleed into every crevice, and every vein in your body. Jack always told you to be wary of going places without security—always fretting over your security and your penchant for leaving unannounced, and now you were paying for it.

In an almost comical defence, you grab the nearest thing in your line of sight: ironically an erotic sculpture ground by a plinth that looked like it weighed a far few. Hands shaking you, grasp the brass handle and quickly turned the nob: trying to look as menacing as possible to an intruder.

But what was behind the door was anything but. There was Bobby, in all his grecian tragedian beauty, holding Enya with his big pilose arms supporting her head like a true natural parent—which you'd hope he was after having enough children to start as sports team.

Both of you looked equally surprised as each other.

"Christ, hun what ever are you doing with that thing?" Bobby says chuckling, while rocking back on the soles of his feet and motioning to the stone sculpture.

"Oh Good Heavens, Bob you nearly gave me a damned heart attack" you say clutching a hand to your chest. To which Bobby shamefully and discreetly looks at your chest—in his defence you were wearing a more than revealing top because you really weren't planing on any visitors.

"Oh I'm sorry, c'mere sweetheart how are you? It's been ages!"

"Bob we spoke over the phone two days ago!"

"Oh, c'mon now you that phone calls don't suffice for either one of us."

Bashfully you smile, but realise Jack has not accompanied Bobby, wondering where he is you ask,

"God Bobby it's good to see you too, tell me where is Jack around? did you tell him that there's stables he's probably there he'd love th-"

Interrupting you Bobby explains, "Sweetheart, he couldn't make it I'm sorry."

A bit embarrassed, you try to play it cool. Noticing your discomfort Bobby gently dislodges Enya from his chest to yours, and it's cheesing to say but the weight of her on your chest salves the wound ever so slightly.

"Bob how did you get her? I thought Alma was watching her?"

"Oh she was but we met down at the chapel and I offered to take Enya—she looked a bit occupied with her own roady children. I didn't want Enya to be forgotten about." he says while stepping closer to you, trailing the back of his hand against her cheek and then moving his eyes to you.

Flustered you take your time analysing him back: dressed in a rolled up button up white shirt, and khaki coloured slacks. Blushing, Bobby says,

"She seemed pretty sleepy when she was handed to me. Why don't you have some time on your own and I'll watch her for you?"

"Oh please Bobby i've had plenty of 'me' time. Your ramblings would do me good, would take my mind of Jack. Matter of fact I'm starving aren't you?"

"Famished! I tell you a palm beach flight to Portugal is no joke."

"Well that sorts it! we'll take her bassinet and have some food out in the grass."

"Sounds perfect, maybe some champagne. I know you can't drink but you can live vicariously through me!"

Chuckling you nod, and he follows you out of the room.

Moving into the kitchen you start to prepare the snacks. Looking at your bleak options since you haven't gone to the market you decide on hors d'oeuvres chicly displayed on a walnut cutting board gifted to you by a baroness. Gathering the necessaries: crisp bread, casalingo salami, foie gras parfait, chicken liver paté, and finally a bottle of pierre mignon for your beloved Bobby.

Delicately balancing the board with one hand, and the bottle in the crevice of your arm, you glance back into the bedroom with Bobby and Enya. Despite your unintentional eavesdropping you hear Bobby rocking Enya to sleep,

"You are so lucky to have your mom, huh? She's the best mom anyone could ask for don't you think?"

The comments warm your heart but you're unable to dissect that feeling as Bobby steps out of the room moments later and like a gentleman: immediately steps to take the bottle of wine and board from your hands.

And one thing leads to another, the hours pass, and by 10 pm you both felt drunk—and probably look it to any outsiders passing by. Despite not drinking a single drop you feel utterly intoxicated by his very presence.

Luckily, Enya had been picked up by Alma to be watched for the night after she'd landed upon you two in the grass: with Bobby's head in your lap, giggles emitting from the both of you.

As the night drew on you'd gotten immeasurably close physically, simply tripping over yourselves trying to catch each other up on both of your lives when you weren't with each other. Bobby being Jack's brother meant that a great portion of your life was spent next to Bobby, and even going a few days apart felt like a whole year for the both of you. Possibly a little co-dependent considering you both had parents but you both didn't want to question it to hard—the papers did enough of that themselves, always questioning your friendship or rather the existence of something more.

Once you two had sufficiently caught each other up on your respective lives, the conversation turned more soft and touchy. Bobby was extremely tactile when tipsy. You and Bobby had kissed a couple of times over the years but you'd never gone the distance, always stopping yourselves.

However this time neither of you wanted to stop, in a haste Bobby motions to take off your top, that was until Bobby's soft caresses of your body reminded you of the insecurities plaguing you for the last 9 months.

Feeling you freeze up Bobby, worried that he'd done something wrong, asks if you're feeling okay,

To which you reply, "It's nothing on you Bob, it's just that ever since Enya I'm so different to how I was. Now i'm sore and I ache all the time, and I feel so damn unloveable."

"Oh Hun, you're nothing of the sort. I see, before me, a woman not only worthy of love but of worship. Let me worship you, please I promise it'll be-"

Captivated, you nod almost immediately but cringe as you release you hadn't had time to wipe off the nipple cream you'd lathered on hours before.

Once your breasts are revealed to him you can't bear to look from embarrassment expecting him to recoil, but he doesn't in fact—your worries are bulldozed by the fervid pleasure of his mouth of your bud, sucking delicately for your pleasure and your pleasure only.

Taking his warm mouth of your bud for just a second Bobby says with batted breath,

"Take a deep breath, baby, C'mon"

Overcome, you arch your back like a Persian kitten. Your nails scrambling, and tearing into the soft grass: your moans turning into soft, delightful screams.

Overcome with gratitude and deference to Bobby you scream out, so loud that you're not entirely sure that Alma can't hear you,

"Baby, baby, baby, I'm-i'm your man"

Who knew you could cum from that? Certainly not you, that's for sure but alas you did.

You take several minutes to come out of it, to which he just cradles you brushing a few short strands of hair, dotting kisses along the concave of your breasts.

As if to give back you raise a hand to his chin, and engulf him in a sweet kiss, nothing reminiscent of dominate coming from either side: just tenderness.

"Oh I can taste champagne on your lips, Bobby!"

"Y'know I do have an idea on how to get rid of that taste" to which Bobby dramatically lays you on the ground and gets down to business on his hands and knees, fingering and teasing your mound: warm and inviting.

By the whole end of the ordeal you've had 5 orgasms and made enough noise to rival the neighbouring cats and dogs screeches and barks.

All the nipple butter has been removed from your breasts and is now squarely strewn around on Bobby's face and lips—they do say lanolin is a good moisturiser for the lips...

[ddlydevotion]

Husband! Bobby Kennedy x fem reader hcs…

currently listening to: you take my breath away by Queen ₊˚⊹

a/n: part two!! read part one here ₊˚ෆ !!

Bobby loves to read to you any chance that he can get. He’ll have you lay with him as he reads Greek literature in a tone of voice that is so gentle you can’t help but drift off. One of his favorite Greek poets is Aeschylus so expect to become extremely familiar with most of his work throughout your relationship with Bobby.

lighting his cigars for him but also trying your hardest to get him to kick the habit of smoking. He can’t help it ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა his brother’s campaign is stressing him out. He’ll likely turn to eating multiple apples a day to avoid scrambling for a cigar.

mindlessly running your fingers through his chest hair during a day on the beach/in bed...This man is HAIRY, okay? There’s plenty to go around.

he loves praising you in the bedroom and he lays it on thick. He takes his time when undressing you, making sure to pay extra attention to even the tiniest details on your body. He loves reminding you of just how much he truly adores your body. he never leaves you wondering.

Bobby isn't afraid to be affectionate with you when the two of you are out in public. There's hundreds of photos of him leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, reaching for your hand. pressing little kisses to your cheek, pressing a kiss to the hand that's adorned by your massive wedding ring.

like, take a look at this:

he’s the complete opposite of his brother in the ‘public displays of affection’ department. There’s hardly any photos of Jack being affectionate with Jackie, but when it comes to you and Bobby? There’s a shit ton.

Bobby still manages to make time for you despite everything he has going on with the campaign. He has a set schedule that's reserved for calling and checking in on you. He'll ask all about your day and isn't afraid to ask for even the tiniest of details pertaining to your daily/nightly activities.

He lovesssss reading his favorite poetry to you. He'd fall even deeper in love with you which he didn't think was possible if you were to show genuine interest in the literature he reads to you. Take a book he showed you, return it to him heavily annotated and he's giving it to you raw that exact night.

as if he wasn't already...

He is obsessed with referring to you as his wife, he even had a few slip ups way before the two of you got married. It didn't even take that long for him to propose to you anyway.

Now, forgive me for being so vulgar but I wholeheartedly believe that this man would love to go down on you. Have you seen the way that man eats an ice cream cone?...exactly

loves reading the letters you give him alongside his lunch. gets a little flushed when he sees your kiss print at the very end of the letter.

rehearses important speeches in front of you and shyly chuckles when he stumbles over his words.

this man would do insane things in order to keep you happy. I mean, he quite literally bought his children a pet seal, a great deal of dogs, and horses. He'd find a way to buy an entire continent if it meant keeping you happy.

Bobby after you defend him against his father/mother:

after reading about how energetic and mischievous he was during JFK’s wedding, I just know he’d act like that amped up by 1,000 at your own wedding. He 100% got teary eyed seeing you walk down the aisle in all your glory. His vows were so beautiful and you couldn’t help but wonder how you even survived before meeting him. How did you ever survive without his love?

Definitely snuck in some of his most loved lines from his favorite authors/poets in his vows.

Bobby croons like a baby bird when you praise him. It doesn’t even have to be in a sexual way. Tell him you like the way he closed off his speech, tell him you’ve noticed how hard he’s worked throughout the entirety of his brothers campaign, tell him you appreciate everything he does for you, and please tell him you like his hair omg. His parents weren’t the best at acknowledging his accomplishments when he was young, so hearing those words from you would complete him.

taglist: @bobbykennedyswife @colorfulmoonperfection @lancerslover

credits to @byuvly for the divider 💌 .

[theverystrangegirl27]

Wax Wings, A Bobby Kennedy Story by theverystrangegirl

[kennedyism]

now this looks like fun giggles

Surfin’ USA.

Bobby Kennedy x reader

Summary: Spending a day on the beach with Bobby? Yes please. (Need that!!!!!)

Warnings: This is all just for fun, no need to take this seriously!

Tag list: @jackiesgirl @quietamericans @obsessedwithjohnjr @fortheloveofjos @melancholicstation @rocker-chick-7 @bleatngheart @joansiesbeloved

author’s note: TELL THE TEACHER WE’RE SURFINNNNN SURFIN USAAAAA

“Gee, Jack, I think your age is catching up to you, you can’t even keep up!”

You watch your fiancé run around with the football in the sand, sunglasses covering your eyes as you stare. It makes you laugh seeing the president trying to keep tabs on his younger, more athletic, younger brother. You’re the only… not Kennedy woman yet, but you get the point, here.

“Hey, Baby!” Bobby shouts, making you snort. He’s so corny, but it’s okay since it’s him. He comes over to you, only in his swim trunks, looking down at you, football in hand. “You oughta come play. Jack’s gettin’ his ass handed to him. You could probably beat him.” He snickers, looking down at your face, then your bikini, not in a sexual way, but just to look at how beautiful you are.

“No, I’m alright… go enjoy yourself.”

Bobby then sits beside you in the sand, pressing a kiss on your cheek which makes you giggle. “Oh, stop… Not here.” You laugh, trying to push him away. but he’s a lot stronger than you, making him lean a bit more next to you, practically pinning you with only sitting next to you.

“Not my fault you’re so pretty.” He flirts, which makes you laugh. Bobby is not normally a flirter. That’s his brother, he’s the more logical one, but you’re not complaining about the sudden change of behavior.

Bobby is very unpredictable. You never know his next move, and that’s what makes him all more lovable and attractive. “Okay, lover boy, that’s enough.” You laugh, gently shoving him off you. You then snicker watching him fall gently in the sand.

The attorney general sits up, brushing the sand off his arms, and then he puts his knees to his chest, the wind blowing in his hair as he stares at you with love in his eyes. He then turns his attention to the Beach Boys song on the radio, then back at you. “Well, you gotta stop saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell outta you.” He sighs out, putting his sunglasses on, and looking at you through the dark plastic.

Those words make you blush, and sputter looking at him. There’s no way he just say that. He seems to be enjoying your reaction, though. You then decide to play along with his games. “Alright… if you wanna kiss me, you gotta catch me.” You say as you stand up, and starting to dart off into the distance.

Bobby is taken back by your actions, and it takes about thirty seconds for it to register and click into his mind, but within that time, he’s onto his feet and chasing after you.

“You forget I played Football!”

“In college!”

“Still played—You callin’ me old?!”

And just as he says that, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace from behind. “Got ya.” He pants, trying to hold you in place, but it’s hard to do so with your squirming and laughter.

“Let go!” You laugh, finally getting out of his grasp, and then you pull Bobby into a kiss, leaving a bright red lipstick mark on his lips, and that makes you burst out laughing, so it makes you do it again. “Oh, wow.” You giggle.

“Are ya done?”

“Not yet…”

You then grab the grab the general’s face, your hands on his cheeks as you place kisses all around his face. You then step back to admire your work. “Now that’s a look.” You say, a hand on your hip, proud of your art work.

“Wow, not gonna let me go out like this, are ya?”

“I gotta let everyone see my work!”

“We can put me in a museum, if you’d like.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

[girldraki]

mostly we’re like now compelled to overshare that due to a general amenability to her music and how the last year and change has gone we have, in fact, had what seem to be actual psychotic breaks heavily incorporating taylor swift songs…. so you should al,ways be kind ….. for every one you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about 🩷

we do have a lot of complex further thoughts on the last post but our brain is a sieve because we have been awake for 21 hours for some reason

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

mariage de convenance (IV)

pairing: john f. kennedy x oc (dr. helena radcliffe) word count: 4,084 series synopsis: she’s a doctor, he’s a congressman. she needs money, he has it (his father’s). she’s a caretaker, he’s constantly ill. her name brings social capital, and next to his, it’s perfect. he’d have a politically well-timed marriage, and she’d have financial security. he’d live in washington and she’d stay in new york. both at their jobs. her as a diagnostician and him as a congressman. a marriage of convenience. clinical, without needless emotion or romance. correct? a/n: life after the wedding, and what a senate campaign changes in a marriage, even if momentarily. tw: simple assault (grabbing someone without consent and pulling them, in this story); stage fright/and or an aversion to public speaking, mentions of vomiting etc.

In January, 1951, Jack heads on a five week a fact finding trip to Europe. By then, he and Helena had worked out a system on how they would communicate now that they were tied to each other but living in different states. She would make weekend trips, to show face at their rented home in Georgetown, Washington, and he would make day trips to New York (not always to be with her) to keep up a the image of modern marriage not hindered by distance. He would call her at the start, middle and end of the week to keep her up to date on things like social gatherings, personal details and so on. It seemed to work for him, to not have not have to delegate too much time to his marriage. Helena noticed it, that he didn't feel bad when he'd miss a call or forgo on coming to New York. She didn't know why it pricked her slightly, when she didn't take the initiative once to call him (well her hours rarely lent her much free time) and she wasn't about to complain about something that was a 'nonissue'.

The first year of their marriage almost flies by, to the exception of Jack falling ill abroad on his Asia trip with siblings Bobby and Pat. This happened around the time of their first anniversary, which both of them neglected to even remember. Jack, since he was abroad, didn't find the need to rush home, and Helena didn't ask him, too. Their marriage just wasn't that way. Besides, the press' didn't notice them much since their wedding, interest having died down. Four days after their first anniversary, on November 8th, Jack would be back in the States. Helena would be there at the airport to greet him. Then return to New York the next day.

So, like ships sailing past each other in the night, their lives went on.

—

In passing conversation, about their future, Jack and Helena had come to sort of plan. After Jack knew he wouldn't be facing opposition in his party when he would run for the Senate in 1952, he told Helena, that after he'd win (the Kennedys didn't really work in the confines of 'if') they should think about children and how their situation would be then. Both were a bit avoidant on the topic of the times they'd had intercourse. But Helena knew since the beginning that at some-point, she had to become a mother (even if she doubted she would be good at it) and pull back (not quit) from her job. A man's world, after all, like it had been made clear to her, even after she'd broken through a glass ceiling of her own. "Fine?" "Fine."

On the chance occasion of being at Georgetown after Jack had announced his candidacy for the Massachusetts Senate seat, contesting incumbent Republican Henry Cabot-Lodge Jr., Jack and Helena were having dinner at the same time. Helena had their house in Washington staffed with a cook and a once a week cleaning service, knowing she could do neither and had to run the house remotely. Joe had tried to put her on a budget, but she easily explained if she was to go along with this life every expense was necessary to facilitate it and a well furnished house with two members of staff wasn't all too much. Her tastes were modest and their monthly expenses were kept at a sensible amount (she would buy her own necessities with her salary and everything else with the credit account she and Jack shared after their marriage).

Their cook, Adeline, was a wonderful black woman, who Helena respected immensely and put a great deal of trust into. She was at 32, a mother of two young boys and going to night-school to learn to become a professional chief. When Joe had contested Helena's request to pay Adeline a wage that she could properly live with (The Kennedys, with all their money, could really be very frugal with it), she just began putting aside her own salary.

Her money was hers, no longer having to put aside anything for her mother, who, although she lived in the same city with, their relationship was effectively cut. Joe had set her up financially, removing any remnant of her husband's debts and restoring a decent fund, so she could live comfortably. Amanda would call her daughter once a month, ask perfunctory questions and when she would be a grandmother, and then not listen much (Helena didn't have much to say to her anyway) and hang up.

Silverware clattered against china as Helena and Jack sat the round walnut table in the small dining room of their house. The house on O Street, was two stories tall with high walls and dark wood floors. Helena had it decorated in calm colors (cream, light blue, green and grey) and a slight Scandinavian style (Rose had wondered why the home was so muted) that showed in the furniture along with some older decoration pieces. A large bookcase was in the living room, that almost filled the whole space. The dining room itself was simple with blue painted walls and a darling pendant lamp over the table. A plant was in the corner and the table could seat four maybe six. Adeline had made a roast with potatoes and greens. The common occurrence of silence, bleed into this meal time as it did to many times in the shared life of the John Kennedys.

Until, Helena said. "Have you and Bobby discussed my role in the campaign? What I should expect?" She set her knife down and picked up her glass of sparkling water, sipping slowly, eyeing Jack as he'd looked at her, almost surprised at the break in their often shared quiet.

"Well, with Bobby around, he'd love to have you going everywhere all at once and twice over. But…I don't think that's realistic with your job."

"I would think it was a good idea if I go along with you…to show a united front even if I vote in New York." That was true, she was still a registered voter in the state of New York, so it would be slightly strange. But it wasn't public knowledge, so it wasn't an all around concern.

Jack nodded. "To rallies and those…teas that we're going to do. You'll have to shake a lot of hands and-"

"Wear a nice frock, got it. Just one thing." Helena had cut in, something growing in her eyes, though heat rushed to her cheeks at that. But Jack didn't look bothered, instead letting his fork scrape against the plate, as he shook his head to let her continue. "I can't stump or do speeches. I…I loath public speaking, and I probably should've said it before. But the campaign is still in early stages, so, well-" Her voice had gone up in pitch slightly and the glass in her hand tremors slightly. "-well…I could…but I hate it." She set the glass down, squeezing the stem of it.

"All right. You don't have to go on further. No speeches or having you talk to a crowd." His tone was plain, not disappointed or anything really, just accepting. "I'll call Bobby tomorrow and tell him." The meal picked up again.

That something in her features left and her eyes calmed. "Thank you." Her voice lower, grateful. Changing tune. "Tell me about Lodge again and how this campaigns going to work?"

Jack looked up from his plate, a soft furrow between his brows. "We already went through it in April. Are you sure you want to hear it twice?"

"Well. I'll officially be a campaigning wife soon, when we've coordinated schedules. I'd like to be caught up."

That unreadable thing that she'd seen every once in a while passed through his green eyes and it softened him. He begun explaining the plan while they cleared they plates. Helena had sent Adeline home to her boys, promising to do the cleanup herself. A few dishes weren't going to ruin her, and it wasn't often she had time for housework. Jack leaned on the kitchen counter, lower back against the cool surface, surely providing some relief to him, as Helena washed the plates, cutlery and glasses, drying and putting them away. The plan explained, silence fell like a feather blanket over them once more.

They would retire upstairs to their bedroom, of two twin beds pushed together (one with a board under the mattress for Jack's back) and a half empty wardrobe meant for Helena's clothes and a bedside table utterly decluttered. Her life in Washington wasn't lived in or cluttered.

—

Jack really was a special politician, Helena was certain of it. The way he spoke when he gave speeches or how he could so easily speak with anyone be it a factory worker, a teenage boy or a middle-aged mother. Young and old were attracted to him. And the women. The women. Helena saw their visceral reactions, how they flocked to him the most. And he glowed when he talked to any one of them. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, bothered by the pit in her stomach. She remembered, Jack was her husband. Was that supposed to console her? Why would she need to be consoled?

Even if she was psychologically mixed up about seeing her husband with other women, she didn't voice it. They were married in name and while they habited similar spaces, most of their day-to-day was apart. And she'd known from the start what kind of man she was. She wasn't foolish enough to think a marriage based entirely on mutual benefit and convenience would stop his…dalliances and extra curricular activities.

She would remember her father warning against taking up with such a man. He was a proud monogamous man, but a compulsive gambler who led her to the man she now saw giving speeches and campaigning for Senate while hiding away crutches and women who'd passed through his bedroom.

She photographed very well as an aspiring Senator's wife, as expected, people adored seeing her next to Jack (even women who crushed on him). Her face had been plastered in the papers and on covers of magazine's after her wedding for a good many months.

Bobby, as lovely and sweet of a brother he was to Jack, and a kind brother-in-law to Helena, he was a determined SOB when it came to getting Jack elected. When he saw the stats on the teas (with Helena attending over half), and how when she was with Jack the numbers went up for attendees. She was a draw, which meant she was an asset to be used.

Helena would find herself in Georgetown at Bobby and Ethel's home for dinner, and he would try and try to have her speak for Jack. Plead, cajole, pout, anything, which only made the two blonde Kennedy wives laugh. Ethel, expecting her second child and campaigning for Jack during that time, turned to Helena sat opposite her at the oval table in the Robert Kennedys dining room.

"So, when are you and Jack going to have children?" Ethel was a sweet and mischievous if slightly naive woman, could ask some very unfiltered questions. Helena, almost chocking on her peas, coughed and cleared her throat.

"Well…we umm…after Jack's elected we will…you know, look into it..." She stumbled out the answer thankful when Bobby resumed his pleas, ignoring 'women talk'.

—

Something was off, Helena felt it in her gut as she watched time tick by, sitting the town hall of some little parish in Massachusetts where Jack was supposed to be giving a speech to a local woman's club. Instead he was fifteen minutes - no, now twenty five minutes - late. He was stumping at some other place before and they had agreed to separately and meet there. She was sat on a cheap wood chair in the hallway and through the crack of the door, she heard the murmurs of expecting older women, expecting the congressman. She was dressed in a powder blue dress, looking feminine and suitable to be a Senator's wife, selling the future, or something like that. Two aides, Bobby's disciples to assist her, were pacing. One, named Evan, was the one to speak up and suggest she go and give a speech. Aides carried stump speech cards in their pockets like cigarettes. Helena shook her "no". Five more minutes passed.

Now, both young men were impatient, and when Helena had stood up, took her by the arms and guided her to the door. "Wha-what are you, hey, stop it-!" But she quieted the moment the door to the hall was open and over fifty pairs of eyes turned to her. She composed herself, while she felt men's grip tighten. What the hell!

And she was on stage now, cards on the podium. Words swam on the text. She looked at the crowd, they all looked like her mother. They weren't but all she could see was those eyes so familiar to hers staring at her, disappointment ringing forever true in that gaze.

She blinked. They weren't her mother, she repeated in her mind. Her ears were ringing and she was sure she was having a heart attack. Her mouth opened, it was dry. Say something, you stupid girl.

Blinking twice, she gathered herself, smiling (barely hiding debilitating nerves). "I'm sure none of you know who I am.." She began deprecatingly, which for some reason got a positive reaction from the crowd in the form of soft chuckles. She looked down at the text, it was still like waves of the ocean. Her gloved hands gripped the podium tighter, so much so, that her hands hurt. "My husband's late, …so you'll have to settle for me." More entertained sounds. Bile grew in her throat as she spoke the next sentence: "Let me then tell you about him." How she was talking…she hadn't the foggiest. The text no longer swam, so she read.

The moment, the  absolute second, the text ended with "Thank you and vote for Kennedy!", Helena was out of that room. She didn't care if the women's club disapproved of her hasty retreat or what those…bastards thought.

Beelining for the ladies and slamming it closed after and going to the nearest stall, her stomach contents soon was gone.

She still felt like she'd ran a marathon and was dying. Her forehead felt warm. Her legs felt tingly. Her inner doctor couldn't self-diagnose, failing as a diagnostician to figure out what was wrong with herself.

She couldn't hear properly. Not the sound of her own vomiting nor the sound of the ladies room door opening and the reedy voice of her brother-in-law coming into the space. She heard him on his third try. The stall door was wide open, he didn't have to search for her. When had he gotten here, where was Jack?

"Oh, God…"

Helena stared at Bobby blankly. She sat up while she still felt her legs shake. Bobby crouched next to her.

"Those two are fired, they weren't supposed to do it this way." His was voice lower and she had to crane her head to catch a word.

A crease formed between her two well maintained dark brows. "Do…do what?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, later. Let's get you up, okay?"

"But…my dress and face…" She knew some yellow bile was on her beautiful dress and her makeup was probably running down tracks on her skin as she spoke.

"You're fine." But he took of his jacket, and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Come on, lean on me." His hand fixed on her waist, helping her to her feet.

When Bobby got her into the car he had driven from the headquarters to the town hall, she leaned her head against the cool glass of the window next to the passenger seat. "I…Helena, you have to promise to not get mad." His voice was timid and like a child preparing for a scolding.

"I asked Evan and Mark to try and have you speak today…" Helena slowly turned her head, appalled. "…but-but I didn't think you'd…they would force you." He had noticed her arms were slightly pink and blue. "I…I didn't know…"

"Bobby, I told you…" She begun, trying not to lose it with her brother in-law. "Many times. I'm not a public speaker. I have horrible stage fright."

"I just…I just thought it was-"

"What, an excuse? No, Bob. I have not once voluntarily given a speech or been on a stage with my voice loud enough to hear. I feel sick to my stomach, and as you can see…it doesn't end well." She pulled his jacket closer over her dress. It had been one of her favorite dresses.

"Yes, I see that now. I'm so sorry."

"I'm not a Kennedy that looks at my limits, and runs over them with a tank."

"I know that now, please don't hate me for it-"

"Where's Jack, we were supposed to meet there. But he-"

"He had two more stops. I added them. He didn't know I wanted you to try to stump. I really didn't think it would be so bad…" He cut himself off. "Helena, do you hate me now?" The car stopped at a red light and he looked at the woman, who looked so tortured, makeup stains on her face and hurt embroidered in her beautiful eyes.

"I don't hate you, Bobby. But you hurt my trust when you didn't listen to me. I'll need time to find a way to not be…resentful."

He nodded, sharp chin moving as the light turned green. "I can live with that. And I'll fess up to Jack about this. It was my blunder, and those two will never work in politics as long as I breathe. That was no way to treat a lady like you, I never wanted them to force you like that." His sad blue eyes looked at her one final time before focusing on the road again.

"I wouldn't think so either way, Bobby."

"I just…" She heard the apologies mounting in him. But she stopped him.

"I know, Bobby, just take me home." She called any place she was staying at with Jack home, it came naturally, it had to. She and Jack still appeared like a loving couple, to almost everyone.

-Change of POV-

"You…what the hell, Bobby?!" Jack Kennedy didn't often lose his temper. But he could be driven to the edge, even when his younger brother showed deep regret, for what had happened to his wife.

The Kennedy brothers were in Jack's apartment on Beacon Hill, Jack having summoned Bobby there post-learning about the incident. Helena had gone out for a walk to enjoy a moment of solitude after such a tumultuous day.

"I messed up. I didn't think it was that serious and we need every vote we can get-"

"And you had to go against the one thing she asked not to do? Bobby, she's not like Ethel who'll go anywhere, at anytime and do anything for our family. Helena's her own person and she is my wife, and I told you that she would do no speeches." He had never spoken in such a way, but he was bewildered how his usually sensitive brother had so callously messed up. "Those guys were fired right, those bastards? Where did you find such brutes?"

"I didn't think they would force her and manhandle her like that. They were loyal before…"

"Loyal? Fucking hell, Bob. No one ever touches her like that. When she says no, it is like when I say no. I didn't think I would have to tell you to make sure everyone knows that."

Around Bobby and the Kennedy family (expect Ethel), Jack and Helena didn't keep up much of their BP and were as they normally were, with few words and little affection. Ships in the night. So, Bobby for the first time saw his brother talk so fiercely about the woman he had been arranged to marry and had never admitted to loving or feeling anything further for her.

Thoroughly talked down to, Bobby lowered his head and nodded. "Got it, Jack. Won't happen ever again."

- Back to Helena's POV-

—

"Would you go on television?" Jack asked in early September while they were getting ready for bed at Jack's Beacon Hill apartment on 122 Bowdoin Street (apartment 36). There, in the two-bedroom apartment, a much smaller space, the guest bedroom filled with campaign stock, and Jack's bed's mattress too stiff for her, she was relegated to the couch.

Helena was tugging on the sheet to cover the dark blue three seater. Jack was getting ready for bed with the bedroom door open.

"Do I have to say something? Because then, no."

"No, you could just be there, smiling, showing your steadfast support Senate candidate John Kennedy." He said with a flair, peaking his head through the door way, his button up shirt half undone exposing a white sleeveless white shirt and a smidge of chest hair. His trousers were gone, sporting a pair of stripy blue boxers.

"Ah, don't I do that already?"

"But television will broaden the knowledge of it."

"All right. I'll do it. What kind of Mrs. Kennedy should I play?" She fluffed a feather pillow and sat on the duvet looking at Jack, his back turned to her as he removed his dress shirt and discarded it like a child, in a pile with his other clothes.

"The kind that's sure of herself and looks at me with admiration and confidence." Jack looked over his shoulder, smirking. He pulled on a pajama shirt and ran a hand through his hair.

Helena's night gown was slightly sheer and reached just over her knees, socks on her feet. "So, just up the BP and we're good?"

"Yes, exactly." He chuckled sitting on the bed and looking at her sat on the couch, keeping the door open.

"I've learned." Recalling how early on it took her bit of time to pic up BP and acting in front of cameras like Lauren Bacall.

"You have." One of the few times levity filled their shared space with laughter.

—

So, in October on WNAC-TV a campaign program called "Coffee with the Kennedys" premiered, weeks before the election. Along with Jack and Helena, sisters Pat and Eunice and mother Rose appeared on the program with speaking roles. Jack would answer phone-in questions (Helena, Pat and Eunice would work the phones), and Rose would speak of her child-rearing philosophy. Young female campaign aides would be shown with skirts embroidered with 'John F. Kennedy', which brought genuine amusement to Helena's features as she stood stably next to her husband.

—

Election night, she went with Jack to the headquarters when it looked like they might've pulled this off and Jack would be a Senator. A silent pillar, she observed the tired chaos and how Jack kept his own tally of the votes he had, Bobby making calls to know how things were going.

And he'd made it by 70,000 winning margin over Lodge. Cheers filled the room, the brothers would share a look, but Jack's eyes would find Helena's, and she saw his fatigued eyes shine, that indecipherable look twisted into it. He beckoned her closer, and reached out to her hand. Calloused hands from shaking so many hands and his years in the Navy, rough against her silken smooth skin.

A smile pulled at his lips, sincere, earnest, soft. "Let's go home." He whispered over celebrations, into her ear, his breath warm. He had never talked like this to her. It was like a caress. Unusual in their mostly unaffectionate private life, but Helena chalked it up victory adrenaline, resulting in a high that opened some part she didn't see in him.

"Lead the way, Senator." A chuckle broke from him and he shook his head.

"I've not been sworn in yet, Doc."

"Semantics." Holding hands, they left, a new leaf turned in their shared lives.

At the Bowdoin Street apartment, they would make love, for the first time with some fresh enthusiasm, leaving them more tired, but satisfied. Sure, they would still be in different states in the future. But this win brought change with it.

(the end for now...)

[h-l-vlovesvintage]

to the kennedyfandom

my kennedy focused blog's been taken down, so i'm posting my fanfics over onto my ao3 account.

just finished uploading "save me sabrina fair" over there. all parts that i've written so far. next will be my "unexpected" series, jackie one-shot and other jfk fanfics.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63532681/chapters/162805123