#rfk x reader

[melancholicstation]

SWF-ISH BOYFRIEND!BOBBY KENNEDY HC'S 🍸

came out of writing hibernation who cheered and clapped

♪ ethel cain covering britney spears — everytime ♪

walks on the street side every time y’all step out of the house

mans constantly has his hands in your hair: in the grocery, at parties with his family, at home… ANYWHERE & EVERYWHERE.

his love language would be weekly gifts from the best nightwear boutiques in massachusetts: cotton singlets, cashmere booty shorts etc etc.

would deliver snacking plates of: french cheeses, maraschino cherries and stripes of smokey turkey bacon if his s/o had been studying for mid-terms and had forgotten to eat. ( i know a 1960s female college student is unrealistic let me YEARN for bobby in a historically-inaccurate way )

is incredibly bumbling when first flirting with you, but begins to get concerningly sauve once he’s been your boyfriend for a while…

deeply insecure of his attractiveness and highkey paranoid of you leaving him for his older brothers ( jfk im sooo drunk )

gets embarrassingly drunk of honeysuckle wheat beer to the point where you have to get his driver to help you get him into the car.

wears his boxers to the point where there are definitive HOLES ( disgusting i’m sorryyy )

loves to have his hair washed & brushed by his lover unresolved mother kink from rose’s questionable parenting of the kennedy boys

has an oral fixation with his cigar and crashes out if he can’t have one when he wants one

likes to get his freak on in his old harvard football uniform

is a gentle man in the boudoir

cannot sit still on a plane and is always pawing at you to entertain him when you just want to sleep and relax in first class 🙏🏻

doesn’t normally drink but when he does BOY does he drink

likes to ( lovingly ) bite you anywhere ( in a challengers art and tashi way from that one scene )

packs the sourdough you make for him each day to take into the attorney general office

always takes the side of his women in her friend squabbles

likes to hand feed his woman ( like actually PLACES food in your mouth )

eats downnn a fry and steak combo at a diner

romantic medieval devotion

buys greek poetry for you guys to read together over a glass bottle of wine

wine drunk s*x with bobby oh okay…

hot take but he is very vocal in the bedroom wait who said that!!

applies gentle domestic dominance to everyday activities

unflinching eye contact

a MUNCH by all definition of the word

rehearses his speeches to you and gets bashful when you give his positive feedback

always the first to apologise

obsessed with you being his wife

huge purity complex for HIMSELF

degradation kink well now who said that

afflicted by a breeding k*nk

aching ambition to achieve a family with you

subtly likes when you stand up for him in front of his father ( or other family members )

would want to nap in your ribcage if he could

will always share food with you whenever you would go out together

[lancerslover]

i’d love to hear your guys’ ideas/suggestions about these. my initial thoughts are that the bobby and jack one will be about an actress (like marilyn monroe) who’s having affairs with both brothers at once. and the jack and jackie one would likely be less explicitly sexual, maybe a fic imagining what went on behind the scenes of a well-known photo or story of them

[floralcyanide]

⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒.

౨ৎ 18+ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴏɴʟʏ !

⊹ summary: You are studying the one and only US President John F. Kennedy for your dual-title doctorate at Harvard University in 1963. Upon growing closer to the president, you happen to meet one of his Harvard friends, Coriolanus Snow, who is campaigning for the 1964 Election. You're both brought closer as time passes, and your life changes forever. As the 1964 Election continues and political tensions escalate, you come together. With the help of you, the Kennedys, and his charming wit and cleverness, Coriolanus Snow ends up with all he's ever wanted. However, the ever-growing Women's Revolution puts everything and everyone at risk. What Coriolanus doesn't know is that politics is all a game-

But there are worse games to play.

⊹ pairing: young!coriolanus snow / fem!reader ⊹ warnings: none. ⊹ word count: 269 (not including quote.) ⊹ author’s note: eeeee here's the prologue! I'm so excited to share this idea with you all. it was just a random fic idea I had and I didn't think it would snowball in my imagination the way it did, yet here we are lol. please be sure to check out the soundtrack and if you want to be tagged with every chapter, please fill out the form. I have both the soundtrack and taglist form below for you to click. much love!! ♡

౨ৎ divider credit: @cafekitsune

౨ৎ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ | sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ | sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

౨ৎ this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

❝And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me. We both knew it, right away. And as the years went on, things got more difficult – we were faced with more challenges. I begged him to stay. Try to remember what we had at the beginning. He was charismatic, magnetic, electric, and everybody knew it. When he walked in, every woman's head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn't contain himself. I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him. And in that way, I understood him, and I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him. And I still love him. I love him.❞ — Lana Del Rey, Spoken Monologue, National Anthem

“Go on, sweetheart,” Coriolanus mumbles, his lips tickling the shell of your ear, “Wave to the people. They love it, they love you.”

You stare at Coriolanus for a moment in absolute awe as he basks in the glow of attention from the crowd. At this moment, he’s electric and powerful. You couldn’t be more proud of him for it. The two of you are in a brightly colored motorcade, slowly cruising through downtown Boston in celebration. Your husband effortlessly smiles in glory, his eyes twinkling in unbridled emotion- a rare sight to see from him. Coriolanus has his moments, but not like this. His blue eyes are usually cold, distant, and emotionless unless looking directly at you. Despite the lack of obvious light, you can still see it. It’s one thing Coriolanus admires about you; that you can see past his demeanor. The last time you remember him looking so full of pride, though, was the day you married one another.

It’s hard to wrap your head around the fact that he succeeded at this- and you succeeded at this, too. Perhaps even harder to grasp that millions of people around the world now know your name and care about what you have to say. As Coriolanus said himself, the people love you. Sure, having the people on your side just as they are his matters to you. But at the end of the day, the only thing that matters for certain is if he truly loves you like he loves power. Sometimes you aren’t so sure. Sometimes, he looks at you, and you can’t see a thing.

౨ৎ taglist:

@nilletellsstories @noyatv @moonlightstuffs @slytherinholland @dominqueeekk @allcheesemelts @coconut-dreamz @rosewine-5 @hsfallingsky @imasimptoowth @tatumrileyslover @murdocksdaughter @fauxraven @throughgoeshxmilton @thesullengrrrl @fanfictionismyromanempire @americanprometheuss @prettycove

[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.”

[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.

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

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

Robert Kennedy x OC

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

Trigger Warnings: age gap (around 12 years), no smut (if that's even a warning?), a single punch, harassment, bruised knuckles, swearing.

Extra notes: this is an rpf and not based on any fact, just delusional daydreams from this gal.

Synopsis: 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. 

1958 - 4th of November, Boston, MA

“Now, Bobby, my kid sister’s a bit of nuisance. She breathes poetry and reads too much. Ignore her enthusiasm, it’s her first campaign party.” Alec said sipping champagne from a plastic cup as he and Bobby watch the celebrations. Jack was dancing with Jackie. “She’s freshly 21 and wants everyone to know it and...” Alec got distracted when a redheaded campaign aid came to them and asked him for a turn on the dance floor. Flushed, Alec nodded and left Bobby behind.  

Bobby leaned on the back wall smoking a cigar and already thinking of having to soon return to the Senate Rackets Committee where he was chief counsel. He was in deep thought while his eyes wandered around the busy and joyful room. His sight then fixed on a young woman who he had never met before and who seemed to be having some issues with a campaign aid in a corner of the large office space were the campaign office was. The male aid stood close to her; he saw her squirm and so Bobby made his way towards her and the man towering over her.  

As he was nearing, he stopped when the woman decked the men and pushed out into the hallway outside the main room. Bobby made a mental note to have that man taken off the management team. 

Was she alright? 

He decided to find out and saw her in the empty hallway and saw her hold her right hand. She hadn’t noticed him. Music and the warm light crept into the dark hallway where only a single window brought in moonlight. The light bounced back on her blonde hair and light blue dress. She heard his footsteps, and her body went frigid. 

Looking at him standing a few feet away from her. “Are you...his friend?” She asked, her voice steadier than Bobby had expected.  

“No.” he said.  

She nodded her head slowly, “How much did you see?” 

“I saw you punch him.” 

She muttered under her breath a soft “shit!” while clutching her right hand. “Did anyone else notice?” 

Bobby shook his head ‘no’. “I don’t think so. Can I come closer?”  

She took a step back. “Why?” 

“To see if your hand's alright.” 

“You won’t try anything?” 

“I don’t want to take my chances. I saw what you did to the last guy.” He tried to joke but saw her expression not change. “I won’t try anything. I promise.” 

She looked at him skeptically but walked towards him. “It doesn’t hurt that much.” She showed him her hand, her knuckles bruised with blue and purple. 

“How hard did you hit him?” He asked gently touching her hand avoiding the bruise. 

She shrugged, “Harder than I thought.” 

“You should get some ice on it. Sit here, I’ll bring you some.” He gestured for her to sit down on one of the benches in the hallway.  

She looked apprehensive. “What if he finds me? Can’t I come with you?” 

Robert nodded and led her to the staff kitchen where there was ice kept in the freezer. He turned on the light and the young woman jumped onto the counter and looked at him as he found a dish towel and wrapped it around a handful of ice.  

He put it onto her knuckles holding it place. “You should hold it on for a while.”  

She nodded and placed her hand on the cloth as he removed his. He put some distance between them. Several beats of silence later. 

The woman broke it: “What’s your name? I’d like to know who to send a thank you card to.” 

“Robert Kennedy.”  He spoke. A look of recognition passed her face. Her eyes widened in a quite almost cartoonish way. 

“Kennedy? I should’ve known.” She said, and for the first time he saw her smile and laugh, “My friends will lose their minds when I tell them Bobby Kennedy put ice on my hand.” Her expression then changed. “You went to UV with my brother, right?” 

Now it was Robert’s turn to look surprised. “You’re Alec’s kid sister?” 

“That’s me. Ava Worthing.” She said before scoffing, “Though I’m not much of kid anymore, I’m senior at Vassar and much more mature than he can give me credit.” 

And so, they talked without noticing the passage of time. It was simple for both, to move from topic to topic. It was strange how easy it was. They hardly knew anything about each other and somehow, they clicked into place. 

She was curious about politics and about what was happening in the courts with the Teamsters. Robert showed his passionate side and found himself enthralled at how she kept up with him. She told him about her own interests and that she wanted to be a writer and to better the world in any way she could. 

End (for now...)

Dividers: @cafekitsune, https://www.tumblr.com/cafekitsune/761910969259655168/moon-line-dividers-001?source=share

[jackiesgirl]

jfk x reader this jack schlossberg x reader this WHAT ABOUT RFK X READER OR JACKIE X READER

[salvatoresablondie]

I love how we have ppl in the fandom that contribute to the jfk x reader fics, rfk x reader fics, jfk x jackie fics, jackie x reader fics, jfk jr x reader fics, and jack x reader fics…Now where’s the jfk gay fics..

[lostloveletters]

sooooo what are ya working on next😁

Hi! Chapter 15 of Bruised Fruit is my biggest priority right now because I'm straight up embarrassed at how long it's been since I last updated🫠

Anyone who follows me on main and has seen what I've been posting recently will not be surprised by this at all, but priest!Michael Corleone x Reader has kind of wormed its way inside my brain (call me RFK Jr. I guess) so that's been outlined in concerning detail and self-indulgent as hell. But I'm writing it for me🫡

I think I mentioned the Woody/Brady fics already? One's pre-relationship and the other's post-war. I'm not sure when those will be posted, though. As far as Holly and Bucky go, I don't know! I want to write something for them, but I'm not feeling anything in particular that I have in the brain dump doc standing out to me right now. So we'll see!

🦇 Battie

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Nick Anderson, RA News

* * * *

Take a deep breath!

December 21, 2023

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

DEC 21, 2023

Opening comment.

After Colorado ruled that Trump could not appear on the state’s presidential ballot, a curious thing happened. People who wished for years that Trump would be held accountable for his crimes suddenly expressed second thoughts, deep reservations, and fear for the future of democracy if the plain words of the Constitution were applied to Donald Trump. Otherwise sober scholars predicted “another Civil War” if the Supreme Court upholds the Colorado decision.

Let’s all take a deep breath. Yes, we are in uncharted territory, but we have the Constitution, legal precedent, and the rule of law to guide us. We live in the world’s largest democracy, which is fueled by the world’s largest economy—twin pillars that create enormous momentum and heft in favor of institutional stability.

We must overcome our irrational fears by grounding our analysis on the terra firma of the Constitution and the history of a nation that has—for more than two centuries—survived civil war, insurrection, depression, financial panic, plague, bigotry, demagoguery, and political corruption. We will make it through this crisis, too—assuming (but not conceding), that applying the Constitution to Trump qualifies as a crisis.  

Below, I review the reservations expressed by many commentators and readers of this newsletter. I also examine some of the legal arguments that may decide the issue of Trump's disqualification from holding office under Section 3 of the 14th Amendment.

The most important point. It is imperative to say the most important thing first: Whatever else happens—and regardless of the result—we must apply the Constitution and the rule of law to Donald Trump in the same way it would be applied to any other citizen. If we fail to do that, we will inflict grievous injury on the Constitution and invite further assaults until “all the laws have been cut down.” If that were to happen, “Do we really think we could stand upright in the winds that would blow then?”  (Paraphrasing Sir Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons by Robert Bolt.)

Every hesitation, reservation, and exhortation to “make an exception” because of potential violence or political chaos is an invitation to abandon the Constitution. We do so at our grave peril and possibly for the first, last, and only time—because if we set our great charter aside once, there is no logical stopping point for setting it aside again when it serves the pleasure of a president who views the Constitution as an obstacle rather than a safeguard.

Addressing the arguments for ignoring Section 3 of the 14th Amendment.

What happened. On Wednesday, voices were raised from many quarters arguing that applying Section 3’s disqualification bar to Donald Trump is a bad idea that should be rejected on practical and political grounds. For example,

RFK Jr. claimed that barring Trump from the ballot would make the nation “ungovernable.”

Lawrence Lessig asserted that barring Trump would result in “a second Civil War.”

The Texas Secretary of State threatened to bar Joe Biden from the Texas ballot if Trump is barred from Colorado’s ballot.

Chris Christie said that “the people should decide” who will be president.

Why it matters. Each of the above arguments, in its own way, suggests that an “exception” should be made to the Constitution because Donald Trump has threatened violence if he does not get what he wants. Those arguments are born of fear and have no place in considering the application of Section 3. If the threat of violence is all it takes to suspend the Constitution, we are lost.

The threat by the Texas Secretary of State falls into its own unique category of MAGA bad faith. It asserts, “If you apply the Constitution as written, we will violate the Constitution by unlawfully barring Joe Biden from the ballot in Texas.” We have heard that argument before in various manifestations—“Democrats shouldn’t take X [lawful action] because Republicans will retaliate.” (See, e.g., impeachment.) If threats of unlawful retaliation are all that it takes to suspend the Constitution, we are lost.

The constitutional bar must be applied to Trump precisely because he resorted to violence in 2020 to overturn the Constitution—and threatens to do so in 2024. Arguing that political or practical realities—including violence—justify suspending the Constitution by giving Trump a “free pass” for insurrection is wrong.

Would it be better to defeat Trump at the ballot box? Define “better.” Who among us believes that Trump's base will accept the legitimacy of a defeat at the ballot box in 2024 any more than they accept the legitimacy of his loss in the 2020 election? Arguing that we should “let the people decide” because Trump's base won’t accept the legitimacy of a Supreme Court decision barring him from the ballot also amounts to an abandonment of the Constitution. The Constitution deserves better from us.

And let’s be clear: No one is making the argument that Democrats will refuse to accept the legitimacy of the 2024 election if Trump is not barred and defeats Joe Biden. When arguments consist of “The only legitimate election is one in which we win”—the premise of the “let the people decide” argument—we should not treat those arguments seriously. We should, instead, apply the Constitution as written.

A brief review of some of the legal issues raised by the Colorado decision.

What happened. We experienced a blizzard of legal commentary on Wednesday. There were many superb articles, but I will discuss three because they cover a range of reactions and provide some hints at how the Supreme Court will decide the case. Let’s take a look at three articles.

First article: “Calling the originalists’ bluff.”

The reactionary majority on the Supreme Court frequently resorts to “originalist” or “textualist” approaches to the applying the Constitution. Those approaches—although conceptually different—often result in a stilted, mechanistic application of the language of the Constitution as the words were understood when the Constitution and amendments were enacted. (“In theory, originalism is committed to interpreting the Constitution according to its original meaning as it was understood at the time of adoption.”)

Adam Sewer addresses the originalist philosophy of the reactionary majority through the lens of the Colorado ruling barring Trump from the Colorado ballot. See Adam Sewer, The Atlantic, The Colorado Ruling Calls the Originalists' Bluff  (Accessible to all).

Sewer argues that the plain meaning of the text of the Constitution bars Trump from holding federal office because

“The evidence that Trump engaged in the sort of conduct the Fourteenth Amendment was designed to address is overwhelming.” [¶]

“Originalists are not supposed to rule based on the impact of their decisions, a tendency they derisively refer to as “results-oriented judging.” Instead, they are merely supposed to ensure that the law is implemented to the letter, as it was intended to be.”

The text of Section 3 is plain, and a court found that Trump engaged in insurrection (after an evidentiary hearing). If the reactionary majority is true to their judicial philosophy, they will uphold the ruling of the Colorado Supreme Court in short order.

Second article: The argument that Trump is not “an officer” of the United States.

Those who seek to block the application of Section 3 to Donald Trump argue that Trump is not an “officer” of the United States. By its terms, Section 3 applies to anyone who has taken an oath “as an officer of the United States.” The Constitution repeatedly refers to the President as holding “office” and taking “an oath of office.” That should be the end of inquiry because Section 3 is plain on its face; there is no ambiguity.

But Trump supporters argue that an earlier draft of Section 3 explicitly referred to “the President” and that the later omission signals a clear intent to exempt the president from Section 3’s disqualification provision. The problem with that argument is that it is not based on the text of the Constitution but on something omitted that appeared in an earlier draft.

Lawrence Lessig argues that the omission of the term “the President” from Section 3 as enacted is clear evidence of the Drafters’ intent that the term “officer” in Section 3 does not include the President of the United States. See Lawrence Lessig in Slate, The Supreme Court must strike down Trump’s ballot removal.

Lessig writes:

“The puzzle in Section 3 is that it seems as if the framers of that text were just sloppy in their enumeration. The clause bars insurgents from being “a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of President and Vice President, or [to] hold any office, civil or military, under the United States, or under any State.” The obvious question is why they would enumerate “Senator or Representative” — not to mention “elector of President” — but not the president.” “Defenders of the Section 3 argument suggest this was a mere drafting error but that the clause applies to the president nonetheless, since the president occupies an “office … under the United States.” And in any case, these lawyers argue, it would be “absurd” to read the clause to apply to every elected official, including electors for president, but not the president.”

I believe Lessig is wrong—because he would ignore the plain text of the Constitution and instead rely on something not included in the Constitution to change the meaning of its unambiguous words. Moreover, if the Supreme Court were to examine the reason the Drafters excluded the term “the President,” the Court would find that the Drafters omitted the term “the President” because they believed it was encompassed in the term, “officer.”

Third article: Even the dissenters in the Colorado ruling agree that Trump engaged in insurrection and is an officer of the United States.

George Conway III wrote an article for The Atlantic entitled Don't Read the Colorado Ruling. Read the Dissents. Conway convincingly demonstrates that although the Colorado ruling was split 4-3, even the dissenters agreed with the majority’s key rulings that Trump engaged in insurrection and is an officer of the United States.

Conway writes,

“The dissents were gobsmacking—for their weakness. They did not want for legal craftsmanship, but they did lack any semblance of a convincing argument.” “For starters, none of the dissents challenged the district court’s factual finding that Trump had engaged in an insurrection. None of the dissents seriously questioned that, under Section 3 of the Fourteenth Amendment, Trump is barred from office if he did so. Nor could they. The constitutional language is plain.” [¶] “And the dissenters didn’t even bother with the district court’s bizarre position that even though Trump is an insurrectionist, Section 3 doesn’t apply to him because the person holding what the Constitution itself calls the “Office of the President” is, somehow, not an “officer of the United States.”

As Conway notes, the dissents relied on a provision of state law they claim stripped the Colorado court of authority to decide the question of Trump's eligibility. The three dissenters lost on that point and—this is important—the US Supreme Court will not review a state court’s interpretation of state law. So, the dissents offer no hope for Trump on appeal to the US Supreme Court.

Two more points worth considering.

First point: The distinction between “appearing on the ballot” and “disqualification from holding federal office.”

Section 3 imposes disqualification from holding federal office. It says nothing about appearing on a state ballot for president—a decision firmly committed to state legislatures and courts.

The ruling in Colorado was that Trump cannot appear on the state ballot. A different state might conclude that Trump can appear on its ballot. Thus, there could be a patchwork of state rulings about appearing on a presidential ballot in elections run by states. That might seem like it invites chaos, but it does not.

If the US Supreme Court affirms the ruling that Trump engaged in insurrection and is an officer of the United States, he is barred from holding federal office—without regard to his appearance on state ballots, any “victories” he may win in those states, or any “electoral votes” he may secure.

The disqualification from federal office is absolute; it supersedes other provisions of the Constitution, and it can be enforced by an injunction prohibiting Trump from being sworn in as president.

Could that situation result in a constitutional stand-off? Sure! But if the Supreme Court rules that Trump is disqualified, it will also issue ancillary relief to prevent him from assuming office. At that point, the executive branch, the judicial branch, and the military will follow the ruling of the US Supreme Court.

Second point: Democrats are not responsible for the complicated judicial and political questions that have emerged from Trump's decision to run for president after attempting a coup.

Josh Marshall wrote the following in Talking Points Memo:

“Whatever complaints Trump or anyone else might have about this, it’s the logical and inevitable result of trying to overthrow the United States government. Don’t want the hassle? Don’t try to overthrow the state. In other words, he brought it on himself. His problem, not ours.”

I would add to Marshall’s list that we are in this pickle because Republicans refused to convict Trump in the Senate on two occasions despite his manifest guilt. Republicans have been hanging back and badmouthing Trump behind his back while hoping Democrats will finally end Trump's political aspirations. Now that Democrats are on the cusp of doing so, any protestations by Republicans are theatrical—as in “theater of the absurd.”

Concluding Thoughts.

There is oh-so-much more to discuss, but I felt it was important to address the disqualification in detail so we have a foundation to process future developments.

How will this situation resolve itself? In a just world, the Supreme Court would affirm Colorado’s ruling and declare that Trump is disqualified from holding federal office. But there are multiple “offramps” that might allow the Court to uphold the gist of Colorado’s ruling (and the plain language of the Constitution) while still allowing Trump to remain eligible to hold federal office.

For example, the Court might rule that the trial proceeding in Colorado did not provide sufficient due process to Trump. I disagree, but several commentators have suggested that conclusion as a face-saving device for the Court to duck the hard question without inflicting (additional) major damage to its legitimacy.

Because the legal issue is out of our hands, the best advice (from readers in yesterday’s Comments section) is to stay the course, get out the vote, and plan to beat Trump at the ballot box by a landslide in 2024. The antidote to anxiety is action. Rarely has that advice been more apt. We can beat Trump. We have done so before; we can beat him again!

[melancholicstation]

summer wine ( and an angel’s kiss in spring ) — bobby f. kennedy

taglist: @remotewatch @bloxholden35 @kennediva @h-l-vlovesvintage @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @absurdlyvintage @chemicalw0rld @fortheloveofjos @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @tsloverr-13

summary: during a party hosted in light of senator john f. kennedy’s presidential candidacy announcement, bobby and you sneak away into the background and have about as much fun as a person can have at a political campaign celebration🍷🛌 …

tags: 18+, making love against a secretary desk, religious imagery, hair pulling, oral ( female receiving ), unprotected s*x, desk breaking

words: 1783

Sure, you’ll bite: a campaign celebration soirée for your husband’s older brother’s presidential ticket wasn’t exactly your idea of a rousing saturday evening but when jack tells you to be somewhere, well that’s just where you’re gonna be: at least that’s where bobby would always be.

It’s bordering on 2:00 am and you’ve just about tried as many old fashions and sidecars as you can stomach for the time being so you switch to a vintage choosing of dubonnet cherry wine.

You haven’t talked to bobby much all day which isn’t so out of the ordinary: evidently he was a man very much in demand. You’d just become to miss him as his frame comes into your periphery. A sight just calibrated for your oh so terribly sore eyes!

You smile and beckon him over, not unlike calling over an excitable puppy, he’s quick to start into quick jog. The squeaks of his leather derbies colliding with the teak flooring, but being quickly drowned out to all ears by the booming, assaulting volume of irish ballads playing from the far side of the gathering hall.

“Hey Sugar how’re you doin’? Has Mrs Bridges been hassling you about going that murder-mystery bookclub again I—by god I can see in your face, of course she has. How many times?”

“Three times” you say through breathy laughs as you fuss over the positioning of the shark-type collar he dons, eventually laying it flat against his collarbone littered with blonde baby-hairs like a garden of baby breaths.

“Three times this night or this hour my dear?” He says while responding to my incessant fixing and prodding’s by grabbing the hair from the nape, splitting it into two with hands much larger than yours, arranging them across your shoulders.

“Three times this hour” You move to lay your head across his collarbone but close was never close enough for you as of late, you would nest yourself in his ribs if you could tucked around his sternum. “Oh god, my poor, poor girl. I extend my deepest apologies that I wasn’t there to run interference: though I don’t believe it would’ve stopped her pursuits much” he says in a condescendingly charming fashion.

“Oh you’re really sorry” “Terribly so” “How sorry are you?”

“Well if you join me in the back I can show you just how deep my sympathies truly lie.” He exclaims in a tone that balances the intimacy of such an offer with a boyish-like spin.

The brazenness of his offer makes you giggle profusely, calling the attention to older couples who interact with their partners like they sleep in separate beds: so you don’t pay them much mind, a tell-tale sign that bobby’s one too many of the amortised wines served was his rare streak of promiscuity that would rear its head. Much to your amusement as his wife.

You scurry off little teenagers running to make out under the bleachers, you allow bobby to lead you as he’s more familiar with the event space than you were. He leads you into an abandoned looking secretarial office, with a hand curled around the crevice of your elbow like a devout would hold a beaded rosary, a loving kind of possession.

strawberries cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring…

You both look around the room quite impolitely in sheer curiosity: opening rusty drawers, flicking through empty filing cabinets until you both land on a particular item resting on the wall parallel to the door. A slanted front writing desk in a deep caramel tinted mahogany wood. A brass handle dangles in the breeze from the slightly draft coming in through the door.

Bobby and you both grinning and make eye contact: immediately moving to pull down the handle to woefully find it particularly barren: no secret notes or diary entry’s. Your face mirrors each other’s pout, as you try to test the sturdiness of the writing desk. To your surprise it holds its own under the full weight of your hand. Noticing this Bobby catches on, asking “Do ya’ think it’s sturdy enough?”

“Looks sturdy enough to me” you grin as you slowly back your behind up and onto the desk. Your legs finding balance resting on the lower portion of Bobby’s thigh. Slowly your Mary Jane black pumps start to find perch higher and higher on his thigh, eventually reaching the mound beneath his dress pants. You decide to tease him a bit and start to circle your foot around the mound, to which Bobby moans under his breath, shyly and throws his head back clearly overwhelmed. He lets you toy with him for a few short moments until you’re sure he had had enough, and moves to wrap your legs and thighs around the width of his hips. “Ya sure you want to do this here, y’know I could tell Jack we’ve had an issue with the babysitter and need to get home. I—I just quite feel disrespectful taking you in a place that has about 5 distinguishable moulds living in it. “Not that I don’t want to, cause trust me my girl I do it’s just—“

my summer wine is really made from all these things…

“Hush, I don’t care if there’s mould spors I need you on me this instance Kennedy. Depriving your wife! My I can’t think of a more disrespectful act can you Bobby?” You say in a bullish-yet feminine tone that immediately snaps Bobby out of his overthinking spiral: a good trait in a campaign manager not in a husband. Great for Jack, not so much for you.

“Okay—Okay I’m sorry baby you know how I get” “Oh I do now clear your mind of it this instance”

take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time…

“Totally clear” he says in a self assured tone as he moves to delicately remove his dress pants throwing them over the side of the large ottoman that most definitely has some form of bed bug inhabitants. Leaving him in his torn boxers: that he refuses to throw in the garbage disposal, holes that allow you to see the mountain of hair littered going from his belly button down to his significant mound.

In stark contrast he handles the undressing of yourself with the care and devotion of a man who knows his woman only has eyes for him, and vis versa. He neatly dissembles your outfit: a billowing ruffled crepe blouse paired with a pleated black skirt and flesh coloured tights. In his excavation of your outfit he uncovers the surprise you’d dressed on yourself for him to find.

Once he got you down to just your stockings he could see what you longed for him to find since you slipped them on: a bikini brief with embroidered lettering spelling out “bobby’s girl” on the front in lapis blue.

and i will give to you my summer wine…

Bobby’s face morphs into the face of a man starved: finally finding a dam in a four day trek through an unforgiving desert. The underwear is quickly pulled off and placed hastily into the pocket of his suit jacket, causing his pocket square to be slightly roughened up. To your surprise, but not shock as Bobby was always the kind to give before he ever received himself, got down on his knees and started to lap at your cunt ferociously: talk about a man starved. You’d heard the rumours of Bobby far before you had met him in the flesh, far before you’d married and had children with him: Bobby was thought to have been a ruthless character with the temperament of a caged pit bull.

But that wasn’t the Bobby you saw that day you met him for the first time, and it wasn’t the Bobby you were looking at now. Now he was worshipping, and at his happiest while doing it.

Soon enough you felt the inevitable wave of pleasure wash over you, and in that bliss reached for Bobby always wanting to bask in that with the man who made it all possible. “Did that feel good baby?” “So-so-so-so good Bobby you should have shed that humbleness with me a long time ago” You say as you soothingly ( for the both of you ) try to smooth down tufts of his hair, now severely roughened up, and clear away the luminescent substance absolutely coating the entirety of his chin and a portion of his plush, bottom lip.

But just as you get your wits about you, he starts to line up and invades you in the most decedent way a person could be invaded.

“Harder”

To which Bobby lays flat a hand on your chin, keeping your attention fully locked onto him as he bullies his large mound into your cunt at a solid pace but steadily increasing in fervour. As a cause of this the desk starts to rock. Continually ricocheting rhythmic sounds of the desk hitting the skirting of the wall over, and over, and over again.

“Dear God, you’re as tight as ever. You’re killing me” Bobby continues to praise how soft you are, how good you are to him, and how he can only aspire and yearn to make you feel as good as he does at this moment.

when i woke up the sun was shining in my eyes…

A mounting shudder creeps upon you like a ghost in the night, following behind you Bobby shudders and then finally stills, still sheathed inside you.

You both take a couple minutes to recoup which consists: of lots of handholding, reassuring, and kisses upon naps of necks.

my silver spurs were gone, my head felt twice its size…

It is only when you get up, as Bobby gathers both of your garments, that you identify a large split in the wood spanning from the hinges. You laugh at it half mortified and half impressed with the two of you’s strength and call over Bobby.

my summer wine is really made from all these things.

To which he comes over, observes the large spilt that definitely wasn’t there prior and searches his pockets. In there he finds a letter opener and to your surprise carved into the rich wood:

“Y/n and Bobby forever 1960-01-02”

the end.

[lancerslover]

ok so it looks like the rfk and jfk fic is getting the most votes in the poll 🤭 if anyone has any plot ideas or suggestions about how you want the fic to be PLEASE let me know

[floralcyanide]

⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

― ᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ !

∿ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ !

∿ sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ !

― 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 ⬎

𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒. 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒: 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜: 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒: 𝑔𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟: 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 (ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠): 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑥 (ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠): 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘

[kennedyism]

alright gang got an rfk x reader in the drafts. like this post if u wanna be in da taglist. im using my previous tag list, but i don’t wanna leave anyone out SOOOOO

[theverystrangegirl27]

flirting with the kennedy brothers on character ai cause it's funny, girls, send me things to say cause my brain broke

[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