#h l v kennedy blog writes

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

Unthinkable (how hard it is to call someone?)

Robert Kennedy x Ava Worthing (OC)

Synopsis: A phone number, from a girl he likes, but Bobby can't make the call. However, fate has a way of bringing people together, like at a wedding.

Trigger Warnings: obsessive thoughts and/or overthinking, otherwise none as far as I know

Word count: 1,279

Notes: here it is, the second part, enjoy!

Winter, 1958 - Spring, 1959 

After that night in November, a thank you-card did turn up at Bobby’s apartment in Georgetown. With a telephone number. But he was hesitant. What was she aiming for with the number? Did she...was she... 

A million thoughts rolled around in Bobby’s head, even when he was in Teamster hearings, having back-and-forth's with Sam Giancana, Jimmy Hoffa or David Beck.  

Afterhours, he questioned the meaning of those 10 digits. 8913588122. Written in a sleek and refined cursive, that the pad of his pointer finger had traced over too many times.  

So, he didn’t call. For months. He told himself it was because he needed to focus on the Senate investigations and planning for Jack’s campaign in ‘60. That he didn’t have time to explore what it would be like to talk to someone with who it was easy. It had been easy with Ethel...but she wasn’t Ethel. Ava was blonde, shorter than him, but the similarities ended quite quickly. She was twelve years younger than him, still in college, and the sister of his friend. There were too many variables. His parents' approval, her growing bored of him. Not including the fact, he felt he didn’t deserve it (a possible relationship with a woman? He wasn’t quite sure what ‘it’ was, either), or that he was scared out of his mind. He was detail-oriented, and he had the capacity to overthink. 

How could one singular interaction (and a hand-written thank-you card) throw his whole world off balance? Bobby had no idea. But he knew he was going to see her again, call or no call. Alec was getting married in June and undoubtably Ava would be present at her brother’s wedding. Would she even remember their conversation in that staff kitchen, had she thought about him, had she waited for him to call her? The slightly obsessive nature of his thoughts annoyed him. 

-- 

June 8th, 1959, Newport, RI. 

Under a large white tent in the back garden of the Worthing summer home in Newport, was where the wedding reception for Alec Worthing and the new Mrs. Alec Worthing (former-Vogue model, Lydia Kay). Bobby was one of Alec’s ushers. But after giving his best wishes to the very happy (and slightly frisky couple), Bobby’s pale blue eyes searched for another carrying the Worthing last name. First name beginning with the first letter of the alphabet. Ava. Ava, Ava, Ava...every time he repeated her name in his head it sounded fresh. Like the air after a rainstorm or newly mowed grass. Ava. A palindrome.  

He saw her, talking with some girls her age, fellow bridesmaids he guessed, by the way they were dressed. Her bridesmaid dress was a deep emerald green, with a full skirt and an off- the shoulder neckline. The slight bareness of her shoulders extenuated the curve of her neck. And her face, looking better in the sunlight than under artificial staff kitchen lights. Her hair was curved at the ends, shining like gold. Bobby swallowed as he tried to tear his eyes from her. 

Then they’re eyes met. For a single moment he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes. Bobby couldn’t stand it, his eyes falling to the floor. He didn’t know how long he stared at a single blade of green grass. 

Her voice made him jump. “You didn’t call.” 

“I...I...um...” He stuttered, still not meeting her gaze. How could he stare down Jimmy Hoffa, but not a girl who he hadn’t called. He was a grown man, for God’s sake. 

“I thought I was being quite plain. And Alec told me that you liked people being direct with you.” 

Bobby’s Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he slowly met her grey eyes. His throat felt dry. 

Ava was still talking. “...maybe I just misread our interaction. My hand was hurting quite bit, but I thought you liked talking with me. Though maybe you just were pitying me.” 

Bobby found his voice again. “I... I do. Like you.” Damn, why was he reduced to a nervous schoolboy with her confronting words. He was 33 years old, a counsel for a Senate committee who spent his days in hearings with men more dangerous than this college graduate. And yet, he did feel guilty. “And I wasn’t pitying you. I genuinely enjoyed talking with you.”  

“So, what was stopping you from calling me these past seven months?” 

“I...” He didn’t want to answer. The truth would make him look pathetic and weak-willed. And a Kennedy was never either of those.  

“I know you’ve got the Teamster hearings, but you don’t have even the guts for one phone call to tell me you’re not interested? To tell me not to bother, that I was either too young or too forward. Rejection would have been easier than complete radio silence.” She sighed, running a quick hand through the ends of her hair, slightly mussing her hair up. “That’s all I wanted to say to you. Now that I’ve got it off my chest you can enjoy the party, and I won’t wait around for any sub-par explanations from you.”  

Turning on her heel to return to her friends, Bobby said. “I was scared.” His voice was small and meek, and Ava almost couldn’t hear it in the buzz of the reception. “The last time I liked a woman, she left me.”  

Ava froze. “Oh...” 

“Yes, so, um, I was stupidly scared that it would happen again, and I was foolish enough to think so after one conversation that history would repeat itself and I didn’t want to risk making a complete laughingstock of myself. So, I-” He spoke at a rapid and almost desperate pace, as if worried his time would run out to say what he meant. 

“So, you didn’t call.” She finished for him.  

“I didn’t call.” He nodded. “And I’ve regretted it, because I can’t get you out of my head. Or your number.” He chuckled sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I memorized it actually.” 

“For the phone call you weren’t going to make?” She said, a small...something pulling on her lips. 

He nodded, noticing her growing amused expression, mirroring it. “Yeah. Doesn’t make much sense, does it?” 

“No, but I’m not blameless. I should’ve made a more direct move-” 

“No, no, this is not your fault. You made a very *direct* move, and I was just...an idiot.” He looked down at the ground and then back up at her face. “Can you forgive me for that?” 

She waved him off. “Nothing to forgive, you told me your side of things and I understand better now.” She turned her head as she heard her sister-in-law call for her. “I should go, the bride’s demands must be met.” 

A look of disappointment faintly crossed his expression, showing best in his eyes with a silent “Must you?” passing to her.  

“Save me a dance?” She asked.  

“I’m not much of a dancer.” 

“Doesn’t matter. No one here is. Except maybe my parents or Lydia...” She shook her head. “I’m rambling, anyway, if you don’t want to-” 

“No, I do. I just don’t want to step on your toes.” 

“Don’t worry about that. Now, I’ll see you on the dance floor.” She said and went to help her new sister-in-law with whatever she needed. 

Bobby was struck in his spot, running over what just happened. She wasn’t mad at him, and he was going to dance with her later. How quickly the conversation had turned. 

Later...a picture of Bobby and Ava was taken while they danced inside the large white tent. The first picture of them together, but not the last. 

---

The full part is now up, hope it was worth the wait. Now, I've got to start plotting my Jackie fic, and I'll do a poll on a jfk fic that's been on my mind for the past few days.

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

Dividers: @cafekitsune

[melancholicstation]

GOD BLESS AMERICA AND ALL THE BEAUTIFUL WOMEN IN IT —HUSBAND!JACK SCHLOSSBERG COMFORT HEADCANONS 𓍼 𓇢𓆸

jack schlossberg fan fiction is for the lovers

WIFE!READER returns and is the orion carloto archetype, who balances modelling and writing, and i imagine her making tiktoks in the same vain of alanabananaxox (she's been my no.1 tiktoker since 2021) and sotce on tiktok.

taglist: @candyneckl6ce @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl

no matter the stressor husband!jack literally treats it as a top-priority emergency

immediately goes to start a bath for you in your gorgeous copper bathtub (cause of course you have a copper bathtub ... duh) with some suzzane kaufman bath salt's that he picked up down in greenwich after a meeting with vogue's magazine department.

husband!jack is a freak for baths and it's rubbed off on you ... seriously like that man takes baths multiple times a week, on top of daily showers

if he had to be out on a day you were particularly anxious for whatever reason he would come home with a laundry bag of new tasteful yet cute stuffed animals from loewe and never tell you the prices cause he knows you'd crash out

is great at being a body pillow and has no shame just laying in silence together for hours

would try to make you feel better by getting the overpriced (not in your opinion) criterion subscription just so you could watch vintage halloween movies without running a risk of getting hacked on some third-party sketchy website

would 100% let you live in his clothes while he was out of the house so you could feel comforted even if he wasn't physically near

would absolutely try to distract you with light comedy, despite his cockiness he is indeed a funny guy so it helps slightly

husband!jack would be such a proponent of a healthy mind is a healthy body so he'd make you go do jump rope with him (cause why does jump roping have to be so humiliating) or even worse takes you out to paddle board, like imagine your knee-deep in that melancholic state where you only read plath novels and listen to unreleased lana and your boyfriend drags you out to go paddle boarding???? like cmon now

you do feel better afterwards but you would never tell him that

if you guys owned any pets together he would without a doubt tell you he's going to be out for a couple of hours and come back with one of those portrait paintings of house-pets to cheer you up (editors note: vang olsen mimi does the most delightful pet paintings if your in greenwich!)

he would absolutely NOT be above trying to self-medicate your problems (within reason) by smoking w*ed with you or sharing a cigar being the chicest couple ever!

would 100% smother you in delightfully soft cashmere blankets in the pattern of gorgeous tapestries

would earnestly read poems (robert frost, emily dickinson, and shakespeare) to you to get you to sleep on the especially hard days

is a devout optimist and routinely talks you out of your doom scrolling

always holds space for whatever emotions you are feeling but always wants to provide solutions to your problems

and when he encounters a problem he can't so easily fix he invests time into getting your mind off it and plans steps you can take to lessen the hold whatever your stressing about has on you

writes mini impromptu love letters/pep talks on the empty spaces in your agenda notebook (wife!reader would totally own more than 1 of these louise carmen organisers in an apropos shade of autumn scarlet )

encourages you to do self-care rituals with your staple skincare products by letting you do the exact same steps on him

while husband!jack cooks for you both you read him your favourite chapters of "democracy" by joan didion in the kitchen every night and it remains a pillar in your routine despite the tumult

during your hard times jack is serving peak husbandry doing the washing, cooking and cleaning

when he's on his lunch break at the office you get text messages like this:

always makes sure that you take your medication (if you take any) at the exact times its supposed to be at and has little alarms on his phone

husband!jack would increase his acts of service to 1000% like that man would be taking your row boots into the cobbler for a new sole

would bring home flowers without a special occasion, just cause

would without a doubt bring out those STELLAR accents just to see you smile

disclaimer: this is all obviously fiction and i do not know this man nor how he calms anyone down, this is all for some fun distraction in these trying times.

to anyone struggling with the results and its ramifications (same here) i would really encourage you to read this beautiful (free) essay from alanabanaxox on patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/i-miss-dancing-115580140?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_fan&utm_content=web_share

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Alphabet Soup for the Soul (NSFW)

Time to play the alphabet game. Below is a list of characters and letters with their intended meaning. Please choose up to 4 letters with a character and I will write them. If there is a character that's not on the list and I have written for them before, you can request them if you please.

You must be over 18 to play (I will check your blog and anons need to state their age and be able to prove it - you can send it to me in DMs if you like).

Let's Play!

Character List:

Resident Evil -

1. Leon Kennedy

2. Karl Heisenberg

3. Albert Wesker (I have an entire alphabet done for him if he's chosen. I will link it).

4. Billy Coen

5. Chris Redfield

Far Cry 3 -

6. Vaas Montenegro

Better Call Saul -

7. Ignacio "Nacho" Varga

Bleach -

8. Grimmjow Jeagerquez

Bungou Stray Dogs -

9. Dazai Osamu

10. Chuuya Nakahara

11. Ryuunosuki Akutagawa

One Piece -

12. Trafalgar Law (I have an entire alphabet written for him if he is chosen. I will link you to it).

13. Vinsmoke Sanji

14. Sir Crocodile

15. Eustass Kid

16. Vinsmoke Ichiji

17. Donquixote Doflamingo

18. Smoker

19. Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante

20. Charlotte Katakuri

Alphabet:

A = Aftercare 

B = Body part 

C = Cum

D = Dirty Secret 

E = Experience 

F = Favourite Position 

G = Goofy

H = Hair 

I = Intimacy 

J = Jack Off 

K = Kink 

L = Location

M = Motivation

N = NO 

O = Oral

P = Pace 

Q = Quickie 

R = Risk

S = Stamina 

T = Toy 

U = Unfair

V = Volume

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

X = X-Ray 

Y = Yearning

Z = ZZZ

[likesugarandcyanide]

Alphabet Soup (NSFW):

Time to play the alphabet game again. Below is a list of characters and letters with their intended meaning. Please choose up to 4 letters with a character and I will write them. If there is a character that's not on the list and I have written for them before, you can request them if you please.

You must be over 18 to play (I will check your blog and anons need to state their age and be able to prove it).

Let's play!

Characters:

1. Karl Heisenberg

2. Leon Kennedy

3. Billy Coen

4. Chris Redfield

5. Albert Wesker

6. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

7. Toushirou Hitsugaya (adult form)

8. Trafalgar Law

9. Eustass Kid

10. Donquixote Doflamingo

11. Vinsmoke Ichiji

12. Vinsmoke Sanji

13. Smoker

14. Donquixote Rosinante "Corazon"

15. Dazai Osamu

16. Chuuya Nakahara

Alphabet:

17. Ryuunosuke Akutagawa

18. Vaas Montenegro

19. Ignacio "Nacho" Varga

A= Aftercare 

B= Body part 

C= Cum 

D= Dirty secret 

E= Experience

F= Favorite position

G= Goofy

H= Hair 

I= Intimacy 

J= Jack off 

K= Kink 

L= Location

M= Motivation 

N= No 

O= Oral 

P= Pace 

Q= Quickie 

R= Risk 

S= Stamina 

T= Toys

U= Unfair 

V= Volume

W= Wild card

X= X-ray

Y= Yearning

Z= Zzzz

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

hi i saw this on @fruityfreddie​‘s blog (bless bri’s heart) and wanted to do it so i could take a mental break from writing this joe smut (it is.... overwhelming rn) so here u go

A - age: 19 (my fake id says 21 tho lmao)

B - birthplace: buttfuck egypt, iowa (yee yee boys)

C - current time: 8:15ish pm

D - drink you last had: topsy’s cherry limeade 

E - easiest person to talk to: my bff since 7th grade and our friend from D.C. they’re literally my ppl i love them so much even if we are wildly different ppl

F - favorite song: rocky mountain way by joe walsh/the eagles depending on who you are (six blade knife by dire straits is a v close second)

G - grossest memory: i was on winter break in cancun just this past december with my cousins and some friends and in the middle of the night my cousin literally started throwing up in the resort room’s bathroom and while she was throwing up all of the tequila she shit herself through her WHITE pajama shorts. iconic moment truly but disgusting the picture of it still haunts me. side note: at the resort i very drunk-ly karaoked we are the champions and made friends with a girl who karaoked dont stop me now so the power of queen is truly almighty

H - horror yes or horror no: as long as it has a good plot yet. horror for the sake of horror like all that jigsaw shit is STOOPID imo

I - in love: nope just livin life for me

J - jealous of people: only jealous of anita dobson and that is that

K - is there no k???? alrighty then i’m adding “kryptonite” (your biggest weakness): champagne, curly hair (ugh i’d give it all up for mark ruffalo), and cats

L - love at first sight or should i walk by again: i’m actually pretty sure i’m allergic to falling in love because i’ve been told i’m a detached person unless i rlly know someone so like.... your feet might fall off before i actually fall in love w u

M - middle name: renee

N - number of siblings: two (a younger brother and an older sister)

O - one wish: i rlly wanna be able to secure my ideal position in the field i’m currently studying (Social Media Management) so for me that would be like... managing the social media of an actor, musician, or someone in the fine arts side of things. hehe

P - person you last called: my brother bc we passed each other on the road and he had his new gf with him and i wanted to meet her

Q - question you’re always asked: are you adopted? bc the rest of my family has brown hair, and 3/4 of the rest of my family has brown eyes, dark skin, and curly hair. now tell me how tf this fits in with any of that:

R - reading anything right now?: Four Days In November by Vincent Bugliosi (its about the kennedy assassination and its RLLY good i bought it when i visited dallas by myself last summer)

S - song you last sang: Sedona by Houndmouth hehe

T - time you woke up: 8:30 am bc college has literally made it so my body is up at 8:30 every day no matter how late i went to bed

U - underwear color: purple hehe they’re not cute i’m about to start my period so i’m preparing for the worst 

V - vacation destination: if we’re talkin where am i going on vacation next, no effing clue. i’m pretty much working all summer but I’m going to see The Struts in July and Queen + Adam in august so thats kinda a vacay??? but if its my ideal vaca destination then Southern Germany for sure

W - when was the last time you really laughed: this morning bc i took a video of me sneezing and then started crying bc it was so funny i wish yall could see it im fucking hilarious

X - x-rays: im genuinely lucky that i’ve never had to have xrays besides my FUCKED UP TEETH but i had braces way back in elementary so its been a big ol minute 

Y - your favorite food: honestly? creamy teriyaki cajun sauce on a penne pasta and if i feel like eating meat (a usually rare occasion) a lil chicken in there. slaps so fucking hard yall (meat makes my shtummy hurt)

Z - zodiac sign: Cancer (dont roast me i match with brian may we are one)

also i tag any of yall that wanna do it ugh the original rules are to tag 10 ppl and i dont even know 10 ppl on here im intimidated by everyone

[pingou7]

Rules: answer the questions in a new post and tag 10 blogs you would like to get to know better.

Tagged by: @aheartisaheavy-burden, thank you for this, I hope we will know each other better. If anyone else is curious, here it is:

a - age: I was born 27 years ago, but my actual age is still undetermined...

b - birthplace: France

c - current time: 2:48 PM

d - drink you last had: Black coffee (sugar is heresy) with cinnamon.

e - easiest person to talk to: errr.... I can talk quite a lot given the chance but I don’t talk to many people, I’m a private person. My father or my grandmother come to mind.

f - favorite song: Kathy’s song by Paul Simon, or Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. I can’t choose.

g - grossest memory: I won’t share that, but I do have some.

h - horror yes or horror no: NO WAY, I’m paranoid enough as it is.

i - in love?: Alas, yes, but I’m a penguin so... I set him up with my surrogate sister instead. I’m glad to see them happy together, and my infatuation faded. Seems unlikely anyone would return my love anyway.

j - jealous of people?: I try not to, and most days I succeed, I’m more: please live the life I can’t! Tell me about it!

l - love at first sight or should I walk by again?: I know the concept exists, I had proof of that. For myself though? You’re lucky if I have enough nerve to walk by ONCE.

m - middle name: Jacqueline! Like Jackie Kennedy Onassis. I’m named after my Grandmother and I look and act like her so my relatives call me by her name relatively often. That’s not a compliment...

n - number of siblings: Now that’s a tricky question, for my family is... complicated. I have one older brother, whom I was raised with, from my mother and two blood sisters (as well as an adopted one) from my father’s side. So I guess I have four siblings, but really my brother is the only one I talk to.

o - one wish: To be able to live a normal life? You know, with a Job, people who value me, and a dog?

p - person you called last: My father.

q - question you are always asked: Do you.... need help miss? Or if people know me: “Why did you do that on your own?”

r - reason to smile: Too many to count: My parents are healthy, I’m comfortable at the moment, I love my new igloo, I have friends on Tumblr, I’ll see one of my best friends in a few days, my writing muse is still here, the sky is blue....

s - song you last sang: Le lion est mort ce soir by Pow Wow. All the four voices. What can I say? I can’t do the dishes without singing a random song.

t - time you woke up: 11 AM, since I fell asleep at 4.

u - underwear color: White. No kinky, sorry

v - vacation destination: I don’t travel easily so anywhere is good. But I wanna return to Ireland someday! And visit Scotland and discover Germany. Want to visit my friend in Seattle too...

w - worst habit: I’m pushing myself too hard until my body tell me to fuck off. Then I don’t do enough.

x - x-rays: I’ve had quite a bit. I’m a penguin so it goes with the description. My hips, my knees, my ankles and my right foot are... more photogenic than the rest of me I think.

y - your favorite food: The next dish I’ll be experimenting: yesterday it was a fish and curcuma cake, today it’s burritos, who knows where my fridge will lead me tomorrow?

z - zodiac sign: Leo

Taggin: If it appears on your dash, consider yourself tagged but no pressure!

[alexfridaywebsite]

Bibliography.

Attached below is a full list of all material I have included within my professional portfolio research, in the style of Harvard referencing.

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Dearman, L. and Evans, M. (2015). Top tips for your acting CV. [online] the Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/culture-professionals-network/2015/sep/15/top-tips-acting-cv [Accessed 12 Apr. 2019].

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Gidda, B. (2016). [online] Eyemediastudios.co.uk. Available at: https://eyemediastudios.co.uk/why-a-great-actor-headshot-is-the-most-important-tool-for-you/ [Accessed 13 Apr. 2019].

Glenn Photography, R. (2016). Why A Good Professional Headshot Is Important for Actors. [online] Robbie Glen Headshot Photography. Available at: https://robbieglenphotography.com/a-professional-headshot-why-its-important/ [Accessed 13 Apr. 2019].

Helenmirren.com. (2016). Home/Recent News – Helen Mirren's Official Site. [online] Available at: http://www.helenmirren.com/ [Accessed 26 Apr. 2019].

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[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

2 - i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you.

pairing: john f. kennedy/oc (princess anna) word count: 2,754 summary: a gnawing feeling at a chance connection brings out to the front many questions, and few answers. our characters remember what they had, what they lost and what remains. warnings: grammar errors, grief, interpretations/mentions of ptsd and panic attacks, mentions and descriptions of the alternative 11/22/1963, mild gore, mentions of character death. A/n: the gif is quite telling of what is to come in this chapter. good luck, everyone.

20th of February 1965 

He didn’t know what possessed him ask Dave during a weekly meeting with him, Kenny O'Donnell, Bobby and Ted Sorensen:

“Can you get the mailing address of that princess of Denmark, who was here last week?” 

Conversation had halted. Bobby, his arms crossed looked at his brother with narrowed eyes. Ted averted his own (he wasn’t comfortable when Jack talked about personal things during meetings). 

“You mean, Crown Princess Anna?” Dave asked.

Anna, that was her name! He had been wondering about it and had not confirmed it, since he wanted to figure it out himself. But...Anna... was a lovely name.

“Yes.” He nodded. 

“She’s a bit young for you, no?” Kenny said, throwing in his two cents, even if this was meant to be a work meeting. 

“And a future ruler of a Scandinavian country.” Bobby added. 

Jack shook his head, quickly and a bit brashly. “No-no, it’s not like that. I haven’t...I don’t...not since...” not since Jackie. 

“Then...why?” A crease formed between Bobby’s brows, as he fixed Jack with an analytical stare. 

Now, Jack did feel a bit defensive that he was being questioned, first by his staff and his own brother. With a petulant lilt he said. “It doesn’t matter why. But I want her address. Dave, can you get it for me?”  

Dave shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.”  

Jack braced himself when he and Bobby were left alone in the Oval. Bobby looked like a very displeased man of the cloth, and he had seen the gravest sin. Still an altar boy at heart. A lecture was in store. Jack leaned back in his chair as Bobby paced in front of the Resolute desk.

“She is twenty years younger than you. And that’s just biology. Then when you look at the politics, she is literal royalty. An heir to a throne. You can’t mess around with that. Not to mention how it would look for you. The implications and insinuations. It’s been less than two years since-” Now that was a misstep on Bobby’s end. Bringing up Jackie. 

“I know, Bob. Don’t you think that I know that. And like I said. It’s not like that. I talked with her...and it was good for me. She won’t see me like that, either way. But...Bobby, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. She probably won’t even have time to come to Hyannis-” 

“Wait, that’s why you want her address, you want her to come to Hyannisport? Where Mother and Dad are? Jack, you do see how this looks, right?” 

“Bobby, we’re in the press’ good books right now, we can manage it, so they will see it like I do. I just want...can we discuss this at some other time. You’re making something out of nothing.” 

“Jack, this isn’t nothing. I don't want you to do something reckless.” 

His eyes narrowed, claiming his authoritative tone. “Bobby, enough.” And that was the end of that.

 

-

22nd of February 1965, Amalienborg, Copenhagen, Denmark. 

Anna sat her desk, a cup of coffee in her left and a pen in her right, taking interim sips and sketching away with the black ink. A notebook with a page full of doodles was open on the mahogany desk. 

Her study was in Frederik VIII's Palace, where her parents the King and Queen resided in. Since she had been studying abroad often in the last five years, she didn’t have a home that she could call her own. But her childhood rooms in Frederik VIII’s Palace where the closest thing she had. 

She sketched a male face. Her lost fiancé, Micheal. Her future, who became her past. Whose name meant 'who is like God', and he was. He treated her like a queen and wanted to give up his career and plans to plan a future with her at the epicentre. They had decided what they would name their children (Athena for a girl and Markus for a boy). She had been foolishly in love with him. She still was, somewhat.

And then he had to keep driving on his own, and that got him killed. Well, a reckless truck driver drove into him. But he insisted on driving from Copenhagen to Fredensborg Palace, where they would celebrate Valentine’s Day together. And she had waited for him. 

The male face looked so much like him. She put the pen down and her fingers grazed the paper. 

She knew she was still young and would love again. But she wasn’t sure she could let herself. She knew women who married in their thirties. Maybe she could manage that. A deadline. To have friends and companions and marry by her thirties. She would be a queen someday, and she couldn't not marry, she could. But… she wanted to get married… she couldn't just imagine anyone, but Micheal at the end of the aisle.

Friends...she had those, many. But no companions. Well, there was one in Paris when she was at the Sorbonne, but that was her secret and hers alone. An NDA kept it that way. She knew what her checklist of things she needed to keep before marriage, but she had been in college, and wanted to know. Just that once. It was before she knew that Micheal would be the one she should've saved it for. He was the only one else who she had told.

She didn't hear the door to her study open nor the voice of her private secretary Aase Janssen, even as he cleared his throat for the third time.

"Deres Højhed, der er et brev til Dem. Det er fra USA's præsident." (Your Highness, there is a letter for you. It's from the President of the United States.)

Ava's head shot up, looking away from the open note book. "Hvad? Præsident Kennedy?" (What? President Kennedy?)

"Ja, frue." (Yes, ma'am.) Aase nodded and handed her the opened white envelope.

"Er du sikker på, at den ikke er falsk? Vi får virkelig mange af dem nogle gange." (Are you sure it's not a fake? We get a lot of them sometimes.) She took it in her hand, thumb grazing over the paper, looking at the messy cursive "To Princess Anna of Denmark".

"Ja, vi var nødt til at åbne den for at være sikre. Det er Det Hvide Hus' brevpapir." (Yes, we had to open it to make sure. It's White House stationary.) Aase explained. "Jeg har ikke læst indholdet af brevet. Jeg vil lade dig finde ud af det, frue." (I have not read the contents of the letter. I will let you find out, ma'am.)

Although, Anna was not married nor old enough to be called "ma'am", Aase who was fairly a few years her senior and preferred it over calling her "miss". It fit the size of her character and future better, he had said to her. He had been her private secretary since she was 18 and first joined the State Council. They had bonded like an older brother and younger sister, and Anna knew he would always lookout for her and her best interests (even if she didn't agree with it).

"Tak, Aase." (Thank you, Aase.) She looked at him and smiled. Aase gave her a curt but respectful nod (as far as he would go to reciprocate her kindness) and bowed his neck, leaving her study. The door closed with a soft click after him. Alone again, Anna inspected the envelope in her hands with a furrowed brow (very unladylike). pulling out the bone white letter, written on WH stationary like Aase had said, and there was the same untidy cursive which she almost couldn't read.

She squinted her eyes as she translated in her head the words of the letter. After reading it over once then twice, she got the picture, even if she questioned the legibility of the text and her own English level. The president had enjoyed their little conversation on the South Portico (so that was the balcony she had wandered to) and he owed her a cigarette. Also, he was wondering if since the Danish Royal Family were also avid sailors (looks like he had looked into her family, because, yes, her father had been in the Navy and all his children knew how to sail) like his family, would she like to join him in Hyannisport the coming summer and witness the Edgartown Y.C Regatta. Of course, he understood if she was unavailable to attend.

Setting the letter, now more like an invitation down on the desk over her notebook, leaning back in her swivel chair. Had he misunderstood their interaction? Had she? Inviting her, to…well, there wasn't anything exactly scandalous in seeing a boating race. She was getting ahead of herself, maybe this was more about image or public relations? If so, then why directly write to her?

Too many questions for her curious mind. The President of the United States, inviting her, the Crown Princess of Denmark, through private correspondents not official invitation, to visit America. The optics didn't make it seem like publicity stunt.

Now, she wondered if anything she said during their brief, but oddly revealing conversation had brought forth a false idea. But they had talked about lost loved ones, not at all something that could be misinterpreted. Unless, she had somehow misspoken (although, she thought she spoke English quite well and eloquently).

Her red painted nails tap against the mahogany desk, her eyes staring at nothing really in the direction of the window which was where the desk faced. What was she to do?

-

2nd of March, 1965

Many papers and documents passed over the Resolute desk on the daily, only the most important staying for more than a few moments. Memos, speech drafts, letters etc.

When Jack sat down at the desk on that day, March 2nd, a letter with the Danish Royal Family's seal stood out to him, almost making him lurch forward and grab it. He didn't know why. But he had been wondering, and regretting to a degree sending that letter, pondering if his letter to the princess had been desperate or weird or just misplaced.

And now, for weeks, he missed that brief understanding that he had felt when he talked with her. He didn't have anyone whom to he expressed his deepest emotions to. He trusted Bobby immensely, but he kept that to their professional lives, not personal. He remembered that Ethel had been adamant in inviting him over many, many times since the funeral. But even she got the message. He had Lem, his childhood best friend, still a constant. But to him, he didn't know how to even begin.

He wasn't taught to be vulnerable with people, he could be. But he wasn't that way with his family - maybe with Kick when she was alive, but even with her eventually there would be a wall to their deep and close camaraderie.

Yet, somehow, in that first move, asking for the princess' cigarette, a subtle floodgate had opened. Maybe not floodgate, that would be exaggerating, but some part of him was opened. And now, he wanted that again. That moment of…God, he would sound like Bobby if he said it aloud, confession. To talk to someone outside of his whirlwind life. Someone who had pain of their own, that he understood, too. There was something strangely comforting, and he wanted that again.

To feel open. Even if only for a moment and a little bit.

So, he was… was content, to read that Princess Anna would very much like to make the trip in July to the United States with a note that security would have to coordinated with her protection and the US Secret Service, and that she was looking forward to exploring more of America since she had only visited Washington D.C, New York and LA in the handful of times she had been over there.

/

The day had been warmer than usual for November. Red roses in her arms. Signs, ones welcoming other calling him a traitor. Shaking hands, waving. Jackie's pink suit. Her voice whispering to him about regretting not bringing her sunglasses, when the sun got so bright. The light shining from her bracelet. Her hazel eyes. Leaning over to him. "Jack, there really are a lot of-" Then pop, maybe a motorcycle backfire. She leans closer to him, mouth open to say more, and just before he hears her voice. Pop, pop…

He didn't react fast enough. Her beautiful head, with that pillbox hat. Blood, brains. Her body slumping as another pop came, and with his back brace he barely could duck. The car would speed up, and he would look at her head - between her brown hair, he could see the white of her skull, even under the hat. He begs, tries to stop the blood, calls out to her. No answer. "Jackie, Jackie, can you hear me, stay with me, stay…"

/

July 20th, 1965

He wakes up in the bedroom of the house he and Jackie had bought in Hyannisport, next to the big house. His skin is drenched in sweat and so are the sheets he's slept in. He is all alone. The children are down the hall, sleeping soundly (he hoped). His hand grasps for the empty side of the double bed, meeting nothing but empty space.

He missed the times he could just knockout and sleep. Now, that was in the past. No amount of medications helped, either. He took those barbiturates and his sleeping pills, anything that he could have. And they wouldn't stop.

Jack didn't cry often. Especially around people, bar a select few. But now, more than anything, he wanted someone to witness.

"Jackie… I can't do this…" He buried his head in his pillow, picturing the hazy image of his wife. Her hair, her eyes, her voice. Why was it hard to remember her voice when he needed to hear it? Her touch, her scent. Joy, he remembered was a perfume she would use. Citrusy, and with the residual smell of her cigarettes, he knew it was her. But now, he smell that scent anymore.

Her clothes had been stored or simply put away, except a few pieces. But her things, books, perfumes, jewels. He had some of her things back in his bedroom at the White House, and a pair of her shoes and sunglasses in a drawer in the bedroom he slept in now. He kept photos of her around both houses. But some times, he couldn't look at her anymore, only seeing those final moments. And then he'd feel the guilt, almost acidic, burn inside of him.

So, he would stare, at any portrait or photograph with her in it, to remind himself that he couldn't save her. That he couldn't protect her, and that their son would grow up seeing more pictures of his mother than have memories of her.

The door to his bedroom opens softly, a head of blondish brown hair pokes into the dark bedroom.

He lifts his head, it's Caroline. His voice is hoarse and more tired than he'd thought: "Buttons, why aren't you in bed?"

The little girl closes the door behind her and wipes at her eyes. Oh. "Nightmare."

"Oh, honey. Come here." He says in his softest voice, best brought out by his sweet Caroline.

She pads across the floor and climbs into his bed, feeling the stiff mattress under her body dip as she curls into her father's arms.

Dare he ask what her nightmare was about? Seems he didn't even need to ask.

"It was…was so bad…" Her young voice broke off many times, as she wiped her eyes again. "Mummy…and you…sh-she left again…and again…and then you-you left with her…and I…I was alone…with John…all alone."

"Caroline. I'm right here. And you're not all alone. You never will be, okay." He tightened his arms around her, which seemed to ground her.

"But Mummy isn't…she left us. I know she went up to Heaven to be with Patrick…but we need her down here, too." Her voice had shrunk to a whisper. Jack's heart broke at her words.

"Yes…but she's watching over you and she's so proud of you."

"She is?"

"Of course, Buttons. And I am, too."

Caroline burrowed into her father's embrace. "Can I stay here tonight?"

Jack nodded, and gave her a sad, but still calming smile.

A few moments later, both had drifted back off to sleep.

///

Chapter 1

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

1 - isn't it lovely? all alone

pairing: john f. kennedy/oc (princess anna) word count: 2,211 summary: after the loss of his wife almost two years ago, the bad days outweigh any good. but enclosed spaces bring together with unlikely conversation partners, who are deep down not without sorrows of their own. warnings: grammar errors, grief, probably wrongly interpreted mentions of ptsd and panic attacks, mentions of child death and death overall etc. A/n: here it is. my experimental piece. i hope it's all right. i haven't really written anything like this before. about the warnings, it's clear, this is not meant to be all sunshine and rainbows story. if any of this is not something you go for, just don't read it. this is a slow burning story, and neither lead character is in a place where romance is even on their minds.

///

February 12th, on the eve of Valentine’s weekend, 1965

He couldn’t get out of bed. No, it wasn’t because of his back, or because he felt exhausted, which he was. But he knew what date it would be, and for the second time, it would be without her.

He wasn’t getting better, not seeing her everywhere. It had been over a year. Since that horrible day. When it should’ve hit him. Why did she lean over, why did she have to go?

She left him just as painfully as Patrick. God, baby Patrick.

Maybe, he could just stay in bed, until he decomposes and joins his Jackie and Patrick.

He can’t, because Caroline and John run into his room and climb into his bed. They do this more often ever since the funeral. They’re closer to him, and he feels like he isn’t enough. He is gentle with them and dotes on them. But...he doesn’t know how he can give them what they need.

Jackie knew.

How was he supposed to go on? How had he managed to? He felt he had been asleep, even throughout the reelection in 1964, and even when he gave his second inauguration speech (this time more than ever focused on domestic issues, since foreign policy was less of a problem). He forgets more and more what he does on the daily. It’s been less than a month into his second term, and he doesn’t remember anything he has done. Who has visited him, who he has visited, where has he gone, it’s all a hazy mess. Not even highlights pass through him.

Caroline nuzzles herself against the crook of his neck and John grips at his side, both hugging him.

But he doesn’t move, paralyzed. Caroline whispers something into his ear, maybe: “Good morning, Daddy.”

He should answer, he mutters a soft. “Morning, Buttons.”

He looks at her, he knows she looks like him, but he sees Jackie, too.

John demands his attention in his own nonverbal way, playing with his fingers. “Morning, John” The little boy smiles.

He sits up, his back is stiff, even with the board under his mattress. His children still cling to him. A few moments his valet comes in and he knows he can’t hide away from his duties and life, let alone his children, who watch him get dressed, while they remain in their pajamas.

They have breakfast together in his room and then he goes down the elevator leaving the Residence. Soon enough, Mrs. Lincoln greets him with his schedule for the day.

THE PRESIDENT’S APPOINTMENTS

FRIDAY, 12TH OF FEBRUARY 1965

9.35 - Danish Ambassador Count Knuth-Winterfeldt

10.25 - meeting with the DAR, presenting with a plaque for their help in the White House Restoration

11.00 - VP Johnson, Atty. -Gen Kennedy, Civil Rights Committee

12.35 - (AG Kennedy) OFF THE RECORD

(Lunch)

3.00 - (Mrs. Stephen Smith) OFF THE RECORD

4.45 - Senators Abraham Ribicoff, Connecticut and Hubert Humphrey, Minnesota

6.00 - Mr. William Walton, chairman of the U.S. Commission of Fine Arts

8.00 - The President will give a dinner at the White House in honor of Crown Princess Anna of Denmark and Prime Minister Krag

Not as packed as it could be, he guessed. He needed to fit some time in for the children, and he took he scribbled next to lunch in his nearly ineligible handwriting + with the children.

/

He didn’t remember when they started first. Shortness of breath, dizzy spells, rooms feeling too small. Sure, he had bad times after PT109 or after the Bay of Pigs.

But this was repetitive in more than annoying way. He would be talking to someone and suddenly hear a distant crack that sounded like shot. And he would be back in Dallas.

Everything was going just fine. The Princess was pretty, and the Prime Minister had a receding hairline, nothing new. The Princess sat next to him at his table, but there wasn’t much conversation. They must’ve had some small talk; he was sure. He just didn’t remember much of it. Then he zoned out and didn’t notice her leaving her chair.

The air was too stuffy, too many people. He needed to escape. Through the Red Room out onto the South Portico. It was winter, and the cold air was the prickly fresh relief that he needed. One deep breath in and shallow breath out, he remembered a doctor telling him when he said he had started to feel this way. A doctor had told him he probably had “shell shock” or something like that, prescribing him medications just in case (which he had forgot to take earlier). His hands were cold as they held onto the cold white stone ledge looking out onto the south lawn. Snow covered it. There was some snow near his hand, his right pinky stretched and felt it melt.

The sound of a pair of heels made him nearly jump (he had gotten jumpier), his head whipped to his left. Low and behold, the Princess...Anne or Ann or was it Anna? He usually had a head for names, but in the darkness of the balcony, it escaped him.

Usual for February, the moon was up, and it did light her up, as she stood a scant two feet from him. A cigarette was between her lips, ringlets of smoke leaving her mouth as she exhaled, along with the cool air puffs.

She was wearing a silver dress; he knew that since it shimmered in the moonlight. And her hair was near the color of gold. A diamond headband perched in her hair.

But her eyes were shadowed.

There was something calming in watching her smoke. He remembered when Jackie smoked. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t stop her then, either.

“Can I have one?” His voice was a bit shaky and far from being commanding or authorities as was expected from the leader of the free world. “A cigarette, I mean.”

That seemed to wake her up, because she blinked and reached into the folds of her dress (pockets, probably), and brought out a packet of Marlborough, getting one out for him while her own was between her lips.

He took the cigarette and held it in his calloused hands.

She got out a lighter and lit it for him. She was standing closer to him now.

The click of the lighter almost made him jump again, but he stopped himself.

He took a drag of the cigarette while she turned back away from him, so he could look at her side profile.

“I don’t smoke cigarettes.” He broke the silence. He smoked cigars, 4 a day, depending on the day.

“Neither do I.”

Her voice. It was like he was hearing it for the first time, even if only an hour or so earlier they had met. This time he was hearing it. There was an accent, but it also sounded sort of proper, almost British, but still with that Scandinavian lilt.

“Only Cuban cigars, every once in a while.” An understatement.

“I only smoke on special occasions.”

This surprised him, he quirked an eyebrow. He had her attention if she didn’t earlier.

“And what’s so special about tonight?” State dinners and foreign visitors had become such a blur for him that he struggled to find anything special about them anymore.

“It’s the anniversary of fiancé's death.” She deadpanned, bringing her cigarette to her lips with her silk glove clad hand.

“Your...” He was stunned. She looked...young. How had she experienced such a loss already?

“Yes, two years ago, the date was set, invitations sent out, dress being made. But...” Her voice trailed off. Now he really wished he could remember what her name was. He wanted to know more.

“My wife was killed two years ago.” He didn’t know what implored him to say it. He knew she knew that. The whole world knew. But it felt like a tit for tat situation.

“He wasn’t...well, what do you call when one car is hit by another car with a reckless driver and the driver in the car that is hit dies?” She looked at him.

“Car crash. So, he was killed in a car wreck?” He already knew the answer but wanted her to confirm it.

A single nod of her head and a puff of her cigarette. “He smoked Marlborough's. I buy back at the start of the month and finish it by Valentine’s.”

“My wife smoked Newport’s.”

“You smoke to remember, too.” She had hit the nail on the head.

“I do.”

“It’s hard, isn’t it? Pretending to be happy, especially this week?”

Danes really didn’t beat around the bush, did they?

He put the cigarette out, he didn’t find he needed to finish it. “It isn’t.”

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants, feeling them get cold. He looked at her, her shoulders were bare, but she didn’t even look like she was cold.

“Aren’t you freezing?”

“I’m a Viking, this is a spring cold.” She said, making him chuckle.

“Ah, of course. I forgot I was in the presence of royalty, Your Highness.” This made her let out an airy laugh of her caliber. Rich, regal and precise. Practiced, he might venture. But not without at least some sincerity, he hoped. He hadn’t made anyone laugh in a long time. Not on purpose.

“Well, it would be useful if you didn’t forget that next time you ask a Crown Princess for her cigarettes.” She was humoring him, she must be.

“I will.”

“How long do you think until they notice we’re not there?” She gestured towards the door to the Red Room and the State Dining Room that was beyond it. He turned and then looked back at her, giving a shrug.

“If there’s enough food and drink, they won’t notice for a while.”

Laughter filled the South Portico for the first time in a long long time. He felt guilt pool in his gut, but he pushed it aside and asked, leaning on the stone ledge of the South Portico.

“What was he like? Your fiancé? If I’m allowed to ask, Your Highness.” He tried to keep his tone not too light or too serious, but open to her rejection while keeping his own curiosity at bay.

She flicked ash of the cigarette, and her gaze seemed to glaze over. Had he overstepped, he went to take his words back, but her voice stopped him.

“I think he was the best man I knew.”

That was something too close to home for him. Joe Jr. His oldest brother, who he remembered that way even if it wasn’t wholly true. He was good. And he thought of Jackie. The best woman, he knew, he would ever know.

There was silence again. But it was more contemplative than awkward. Both had begun to reminisce, but not in the depressed way that was common.

The answer to her question on when they would notice the two of them missing, would be 15 minutes. Then Dave found him and her. At first, he looked like he had caught something intimate. He had, but not what he thought.

“Mr. President, and, uh, Your Highness, things are wrapping up. Ma’am, your private secretary has bee-”

“Deres Højhed, hvor har De været?” (Your Highness, where have you been?) That must be her private secretary, who pushed onto the Portico next to Dave. He was tall, redheaded and square glasses on his long nose. And he was speaking Danish, of course.

He didn’t catch a word.

“Aase. Jeg har det fint, jeg fik en smøg og en snak med præsidenten.” (Aase. I'm fine, I had a smoke and a chat with the president.)

He didn’t understand a word she said, but he looked at her as she put her cigarette out and straightened up the folds of her dress.

“Jeg forstår. Du burde trække dig tilbage til Blair House. Flyet tilbage til Danmark er tidligt.” (I get it. I get it. You should retire to Blair House. The flight back to Denmark is early.)

He shared a confused look with Dave as they listened to the two Danes talk. He felt excluded and it peeved him ever so slightly.

The private secretary and Crown Princess squabbled for a few more minutes before he finally heard some English, again.

“It has been a lovely evening, Mr. President. You have been a gracious host. Now, it’s past Aase’s bedtime, so we will be retiring.”

All he could do was nod, while the pit in his stomach grew. She was leaving. The one-time in... God knows how long when he felt somewhat good, and now it would be over.

“Goodnight, Princess.” He managed to make himself speak. She gave him a practiced smile and let her private secretary take her back inside, their conversation resuming in Danish.

Dave had gotten him back inside and to his bedroom, swearing that if he caught a cold, he would kill him and why had he gone out without a coat (truly, sounding like a concerned mother), but he didn’t find it in himself to respond. His valet drew him a bath, and he soaked, his back pain relieved somewhat. He was back in the fog, but now, he had a bright spot in it.

A golden-haired Danish princess who had lent him a cigarette, shared grief with him, and made him laugh.

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

unadvised (where is the line between in the way and perfectly placed?)

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

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

Double posting two fics soon, part one of jfk x royal!oc AND part four of "save me, sabrina fair".

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

next full part for Unexpected called Unthinkable is going to posted soon.

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

Snippet: Unthinkable (how hard it is to call someone)

Robert Kennedy x Ava Worthing (OC)

Trigger Warnings: obsessive thoughts and/or overthinking, otherwise none as far as I know

Extra notes: might be a bit ooc, but I tried, very short.

1959 

After that night in November, a thank-card did turn up at Bobby’s apartment in Georgetown. With a telephone number. But he was hesitant. What was she aiming for with the number? Did she...was she... 

A million thoughts rolled around in Bobby’s head, even when he was in Teamster hearings, having back-and-forth's with Jimmy Hoffa.  

After hours, he questioned the meaning of those 10 digits. 8913588122. Written in a sleek and refined cursive, that the pad of his pointer finger had traced over too many times for his own pride.  

And no, he didn’t call. For months. He told himself it was because he needed to focus on the Senate investigations and planning for Jack’s campaign in ‘60. That he didn’t have time to explore what it would be like to talk to someone with who it was easy. It had been easy with Ethel...but she wasn’t Ethel. Ava was blonde, shorter than him, but the similarities ended quite quickly. She was twelve years younger than him, still in college, and the sister of his friend. There were too many variables. His parents' approval, her growing bored of him. Not including the fact, he felt he didn’t deserve it (a possible relationship with a woman? He wasn’t quite sure what ‘it’ was, either), or that he was scared out of his mind. He was detail-oriented, and he had the capacity to overthink. 

How could one singular interaction (and a hand-written thank-you card) throw his whole world off balance? Bobby had no idea. But he knew he was going to see her again, call or no call. Alec was getting married in June and undoubtably Ava would be present at her brother’s wedding. Would she even remember their conversation in that staff kitchen, had she thought about him, had she waited for him to call her? The slightly obsessive nature of his thoughts annoyed him. 

--------

I'm gonna go and try to finish this later, but I have to study now. If you want to be tagged in future parts then reply to this post or message me.

Taglist: @jackiesgirl, @theverystrangegirl27, @fortheloveofjos, @kennediva, @stargiirl27

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

It's my birthday today, so I might post a snippet of a third part for unthinkable or a bobby x ava oneshot I've been workshopping (it involves a beatles concert, maybe as hc's).

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

h-l-v-kennedy-blog masterlist

《 Robert F. Kennedy 》

Series:

Unexpected (how a punch can turn into a meet-cute),

Snippet: Unthinkable (how hard it is to call someone)

Unthinkable (how hard is it to call someone)

Mood boards: Ava and Bobby in the late '50s,

Playlist:

♡ Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis♡

Oneshots:

Jackie's girl - an escape to New York with a close personal assistant.

◇ John F. Kennedy ◇

Series (jfk x childhood friend!oc): Save me, Sabrina Fair - By the Shores of Cape Cod

Series (jfk x danish royal!oc): 1- isn't lovely? all alone, 2 - i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you.,

Playlist: