#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.”

[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

[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.

[vampyiricris]

hehehe it’s coming

that poster photo was too good not to use as a plot device

[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

[melancholicstation]

You heard my baby's back in town now! — controversially young!gf bobby kennedy one-shot

imagine... you are bobby kennedy's controversially young girlfriend who he met at a an oregon mall during his brother's campaign for president in 1959. fast forward a few months and you're finally taking the next step in your relationship: meeting the family.

taglist: @obsessedwithjohnjr @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 @astro-vibes-bro @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @unmarlou @joansiesbeloved @jackiesgirl @acrowdedstreetin1944 @miumiumoods @yeuxdenina @its-esdras @jacobseresin @yspix7y @violetharmonsfavgf @vampyiricris @harajukub4rb1e @ironcowboycopnickel @valleyxdoll @angelitawings @monturi @starsprangledgirl

inspired by @unmarlou's age gap!bobby kennedy, go give this blog some ♥️ .

warnings: heavy mention of age-gap, multiple flashbacks, uses lyrics from Taco Truck x VB, use of terms of endearment, period typical sexism (not bobby)

words: 2,862

Most of the time you wouldn't say holding down a 9 to 5 at one of the biggest breakfast chains in middle America was an exciting career endeavour for a 22 year old woman but here you were. That was until you met him: your boyfriend of six months who'd shown himself to be a great lover and an even better giver, always draping you in the finest of mulberry silk and yellow diamond. You weren't shallow though, you would've loved him the same if all he had were the clothes on his back and that floppy hair of his.

However you wouldn't have to because he had the ultimate privilege or curse, many would go on to say, of being born into one of the richest families in America, and was the brother of the Democratic Party pick for president in 1960. Oh, and his name was Bobby Kennedy.

*Flashback to December 5th, 1959*

After working your job at Waffle house for about 2 weeks you knew it was hell, filled with grimy men hitting on you with their dirty pickup lines their dad probably taught them at age 15, that bitch of a co-worker, and a drab work attire that your boss, Susan, seemed to have affinity for catching any slight deviations of. Superficially it was mostly the outfit requirements that bothered you: I mean how were you ever supposed to leave this damned place if your own uniform made sure that no person, regardless of gender, would ever humanly find you attractive.

Despite this, you persevered and tried to work around it. If your boss told you to wear a plain blue top: you wore a lightly stripped blue button-up with featuring an embroidered, ruffled star motif on the chest. If your boss told you to wear heather grey bottoms: you wore an extremely short dark navy skort with built in shorts for the so called modesty striven for in the dress code. I mean for christ sakes this wasn't the White House now was it?

You often pared the dreary outfit with a pair of suede ballerina's in navy: a bit of an oxymoron where your mother was concerned due to the nearly perpetual state of wetness synonymous with Oregon lately. Adorning your neck with the one staple in your jewellery escapes: an antique scapular on black silk cord.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder defiantly: a bag so filled to the brim that it didn't look so much like a bag anymore and more like a rather large and rather worn sack. However you did attempt to beautify its exterior by applying randomised trinkets to it's complexion such as: a statement cross pendant held together with leather twine, a religious pocket book passed down from your grandmother on your Spanish side, and a stone rosary.

Departing from the trinkets adoring the handles of your bag, the once smooth leather of the bag was now covered in tiny hole marks from the pins of the buttons you so religiously adorned your bag with. Many—who were you kidding, all were of John F. Kennedy and his running mate Lyndon B. Johnson. Now you weren't so much of a fan of Johnson as you were of Kennedy but you were seldom able to find ones of Jack by himself. That's why the ones of jack stayed front and centre, with the ones of Johnson meandering in the background, wrapping around the sides of the leather.

It had been a couple hours of your shift before you granted yourself the masochistic reflex of checking the time: counting down the length of time until you were free.

Checking the clock you realise it had not in fact been hours, in reality it had only been an hour and three minutes. Boy time really just flies by when you're serving up cheesesteak melt has brown bowls at five-thirty in the morning: I mean seriously what kind of sicko does that?, and getting hit on by men who look like they could've been your father.

That was until you hear that disntict clink of the door chin: alerting you to a new customer. Exasperated with, well—life, you look up already annoyed. Annoyed until you meet the hilarious sight of a strange man crouched under a comically small umbrella, surrounding by some very self-important all dressed in suit and tie: a stark contrast to the typical male style expected of in Oregon.

Before you can catch a glimpse of the man he's herded into a booth far out of your range of sight. Despite being interested your attention is called for when a woman orders a hot coffee to-go. Y'know, it did always suck when you had to do your actual job and not just people watch for a living.

Out of nowhere two voices come within your earshot,

"No, Tim—I can do it myself. God damn it! You people treat me like a child, I can order my own food." a voice expressed that somehow towed that line between being intrinsically feminine and masculine at the same time.

The other voice begrudgingly backs off but continues,

"I know you're not a child Bob, but I'm trying to help you. Y'know that's kind of my job as advisor, to advise you on shit."

"Fine. You go do it, i'll wait over here like a dog." ,the voice says expressing a particular strain of annoyance you had yet to hear vocalised until that moment.

This man has an advisor? What the he—

"Hey-Uh, could I get a pecan waffle and a dark roast coffee."

Surprised for a moment, you compose yourself and reply "Sure, coming right up."

Shuffling into the back with the intention to tell the cook the order, and then maybe take a cheeky smoke from your bag in the meantime. Maybe.

After telling the cook, you find yourself b-lining for your bag. Getting to your bag, you start fiddling for a lighter that was until you hear a peculiar set of shuffling feet suspiciously close to you.

That's when you realise that you completely missed, on your mission for your bag, a real human man leaning his back against the bag rack.

"Oh-Mary and Joseph—you nearly gave me a heart attack."

The figure, and the face comes into your range of sight and your semi totally mortified. The president-to-be's brother had just seen you try to go for a smoke.

"Oh I'm sorry I just don't like the noises. Forks scraping on plates gives me the chills." the man chuckles.

In politeness you chuckle back, in order to get the elephant out of the room you say,

"Now you're Robert Kennedy aren't you?"

"In the flesh" he says with a quite sassy display of his hands, patting himself on the chest in an act to display his human quality.

"Well I have to say I'm enamoured by your brother's campaign, he's doing so wonderfully."

"Thank you, well I happen to think so too. But I'm a bit biased—y'know it's kind of in my job description. I pegged you for a jack supporter."

"How so?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe the pins on that bag of yours gave me a bit of a clue."

Mortified you look away that was, until, he redirects your head movements with his hand turning your chin back to his with the divine authority of a man much older than you. Though you're not repulsed by that fact, in all reality it's quite the opposite.

"Hey-Hey hey don't be embarrassed. I think it's awfully cute of you, though I wish you didn't have so many of that Johnson and maybe one of me." ,he says in a tone that carries the passion of a thousand un-spoken grievances, peeking your curiosity.

Lifting his hand off your chin, he lightly pets your hair: much like you assume he would do to perhaps a Boston terrier or a bengal kitten. With that same tenderness.

"I better let you get back to work. I'm sure you don't want some old man like me keeping you from your job"

Bashfully you smile, subtly shaking your head in retort. However he does raise a good point, such a good point in fact that it has you turning your heels back in the direction of the front counter. But not before turning your head slightly back—subtly saying goodbye with a smile and a slight wave of the fingertips, to which he mirrors with a sheepish, smug grin.

By the time your shift ends your exhausted and love sick over that man, whom you had only had in your presence for a bijou length of time but had been pondering about for hours.

Reaching for your bag before officially clocking out, you notice a new edition to your bag. A bright white and navy blue pin labelled 'Robert F. Kennedy for Vice President' surprised enough already, you're positively baffled to find a small engraving of a number etched into the backside of the pin.

What was on it, you may ask? Well, Robert F. Kennedy's phone number no less,

And that's how it started.

*End of flashback*

There were moments when you were faced with the awkward societal magnifying glass put on your relationship, and increased ten fold because of your scandalous age gap. I mean come on, it was only twelve years. It wasn't that bad. Though there were times you were reminded every now and then of the twelve year generational divide between you two, like in the instance of when he found that pesky little shoe-box underneath your bed.

*Start of flashback*

"Look at me"

"No I simply cannot bear it, Bobby!" you muffle out, the sound muddled due to your mousy blonde curls interference.

"C'mon, sweetie. It's nothing to be ashamed about, you're a grown young woman. I expected this from you, I'd be weirded out if you didn't partake in this sort of stuff. It's endearing, I promise." ,bobby teases, making a big show of his "promise" by dramatically holding out his arms in a prayer motion.

An action you find less than funny: ending with Bobby getting a pillow through straight towards his head, to which he dodges with ease.

What had caused this whole mess was that you'd tasked Bobby with the mission of finding that cotton camisole he'd so recklessly strewn across your bedroom in the throws of your shared passion. It was your belief that if he did it he should fix it.

However that adventure had led to bobby finding a particularly embarrassing set of erotic books hidden in a shoebox. Each with a more embarrassingly brazen title than it's former.

You had never seen him laugh so much than that day.

"Honey, I'm not laughing at you. It's just-y'know back in my day we never had this. We had to use our imagination, oh how times are changing. It's exciting really" he says adopting a semi sarcastic tone that borders on mocking.

His comments cause you to sulk even more, retreating into yourself perched at the foot of the bed, "Bobby don't be mad, I don't even read that stuff now! not with you. I was so in-experienced back then , I had no idea about anything."

"Oh baby, c'mere" he motions you to him, eventually gathering you up into a bundle and takes you into his lap.

Combing through your hair he explains "Baby of course I'm not made at you. How could I be? with such a pretty face like this. Y'know I'm glad you had those books, though I do like keeping you all to my self. And I certainly don't want to share you with any fictional man." he says in an order to lighten up the room, while dabbing slightly at your cheeks

"Don't cry pretty girl, I hate to see you cry, it hurts me, hurts me real bad. I know you don't wanna hurt me now do ya? Huh?"

Nodding, you compose yourself slightly and lay your head timidly on his chest: slightly hairy and stunk of an addictive sort of musk.

Your slightly moved when he moves his body trying to get something out of his pocket

"Princess, look what I found!"

And there it was your favourite cotton camisole, back in your possession. Sometimes you didn't know how he did it, he just did.

*End of flashback*

And that's how your relationship went for six months. Though it was hard to maintain a relationship being that he was in such a different life stage than you, and coupled with the fact that he was on a gruelling campaign trail with his brother. To be honest most days he would come and see you, you'd just lay in bed soaking up each other's presence. On the days you would venture outside as a couple you got more than a couple looks, and you had your fair share of unfavourable coverage in the media being that you were the controversially young girlfriend by the side of the man who's brother was on track to become president of the United States. But you both brush it off, you knew your truths.

You hadn't seen bobby in two whole weeks and you were beginning to get desperate. Though it wasn't like he was depriving you, he stuck to a strict schedule of calling you every day at seven in the evening: no matter rain or shine. Some times he would catch you eating a late dinner, for which he would scold you about adopting the tone he used in those senate meetings. And others where he would catch you in bed early, and one thing would lead to another. Thank god that you both had been smart enough to check for wiretapping, or else it would've made you two more of social piranhas than you already were...

And sure enough at seven pm, your phone rang off the hook,

"Hey baby, how are ya? Tell me all about what a sweet girl like you was doing all day? I wanna hear it all, leave no detail out." he says in a tone that reveals his true earnest nature that you've come to so cherish in your relationship.

So, you indulge him, "Honey, I got up so early, and then, I got into the shower"

He hums attentively down the line, encouraging you to tell him what you did next: to which you inform him that you took a nap mid-day, "I was just able to go back to sleep for a hour and a half. So that rocked, um, anyway."

"Did ya dream of anything special?" he says while shifting in his leather chaise seat: you assumed he was halted up in his hotel in some nameless city along the trail.

"I had this dream where, um, I don't know-" you trail off sharing some half-baked dream that you weren't sure you comprehend yourself. Apologising you ask about his day,

"Oh sweetie, don't apologise I asked, I wanted to know. I did want to talk about something with you though. Y'know how Jack is coming back to Oregon before the primary. Well, I thought what better a time to introduce you to my family. They'll just adore you baby, I promise just like I do."

Blushing and taken by surprise you bashfully reply, of course agreeing.

"That's great, you'll do amazing. Though, I do have to warn you about their line of questioning. They have a penchant for sort of quizzing girls that I take home about world events, it's like a sport to them-my parents I mean, my siblings will be just fine to handle. I just want you to be prepared."

"Okay, well what kind of events. Like events in your times?" you say sarcastically.

"Okay, Miss Attitude. I'm not from the 1890s, y'know we're only a decade apart. But I'll quiz you when I visit you in a couple days. I'll make it real easy for you, put in some recent events that you know: though you're a smart cookie you'll get it in no time baby."

"Bob, you're making me very nervous. They're not going to go too hard on me right?"

"Oh my sweet, you'll get used to them. They make a big fuss but they're relatively harmless, they'll see how happy you make me and that'll be the end of it. Promise."

After his assurances, you were left unbridled with happiness after you hung up the phone. I mean how hard could it be to charm a family like the Kennedys, they seemed nice enough? You charmed one of their sons so how troublesome could it really be? Jackie looked warm and open in the newspaper, Joan looked a delight and Jack well I'm sure you could bate your eye at him and he would be sufficiently pleased at your presence. Though that left out the parents, which were often the hardest of the bunch when fulfilling the daunting duty of meeting the family, you were sure it would be Bobby assured you so.

And why would he ever need to lie to you?

signing off: bang, bang xx

[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]

⊱ 𝑆���𝑎𝑦 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

[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

[theverystrangegirl27]

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