#robert kennedy x reader

[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.

[fanficlolsblog]

MY MAIN MASTERLIST

(i write for mainly gxg sorry. i also take requests so let me know if you want anything written.)

female celebrities!

taylor swift

HEADCANONS! here

drunk (non smut version)

summary: you're drunk and your girlfriend, taylor wants to take you home, which you try to resist.

casual (REWRITING!)

summary:

good luck, babe

summary: Y/N is in a complicated relationship with taylor swift, where she wants more than just fun, but taylor isn't ready to commit. after a tough conversation, Y/N decides to end things, realizing they deserve more than casual affection. though it hurts, Y/N feels a sense of freedom and relief after walking away.

the fan

summary: y/n, a dedicated swiftie, runs a popular social media account showcasing her edits and paintings of taylor swift. after being noticed by taylor nation, she’s invited to the eras tour. throughout the concert, y/n repeatedly catches taylor’s eye, leaving her flustered. backstage, taylor compliments y/n’s art and admits she couldn’t stop looking at her during the show. as y/n leaves, taylor runs after her to ask for her phone number, making the night even more surreal.

we don’t talk anymore

summary: falling in love with taylor swift felt like a whirlwind, but when the pressure of fame and her struggle with coming out grew too much, you broke up. as she tried to move on with travis kelce, you both admitted to missing each other, but her jealousy over your friendship with shawn mendes created tension. despite the distance, you both realized that your love story wasn’t over and that there was still hope for a future together.

all too well

summary:

i miss you, i’m sorry

summary:

loathe you

summary:

dress

summary:

all i want for christmas is you (WRITING!)

summary:

jenna ortega

HEADCANONS! here

the co-star

summary: on the set of wednesday, Y/N and jenna ortega, who have an on-screen romance, face tension due to jenna's aversion to Y/N. during a heated kiss scene, jenna’s unexpected passion creates an awkward situation, leading her to avoid Y/N for the rest of the day. Y/N is left embarrassed and uncertain about their strained relationship.

the co-star part 2

summary: the day after a tense kiss scene, Y/N and jenna ortega face awkwardness on set. jenna's avoidance creates discomfort, but a heartfelt conversation helps clarify the situation. jenna reveals she's dealing with personal issues, easing the tension and allowing them to start rebuilding their professional rapport.

yandere!unhealthy obsession

summary: after a brief encounter with jenna ortega at a meet-and-greet, y/n is surprised to receive a follow request and a message from her. what starts as a seemingly innocent exchange soon spirals into a possessive obsession, with jenna constantly messaging, showing up unannounced, and isolating y/n from friends. as y/n tries to distance themselves, jenna’s behavior grows darker, her obsession tightening like a trap, until y/n realizes that escaping her hold might be impossible.

coachella

summary:

hot n cold (WRITING!)

summary:

flawless

summary:

it’s always been you

summary:

strangers

summary:

watching horror movies

summary:

billie eilish

HEADCANONS! here

guess?

summary:

i could eat that girl for lunch

summary:

wasn’t it obvious?

summary:

boyfriend

summary:

lana del rey

HEADCANONS! here

cinnamon girl

summary:

flirt

summary:

will you still love me?

summary:

kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor

summary:

gracie abrams

HEADCANONS! here

i love you, i’m sorry

summary:

us

summary:

sabrina carpenter

HEADCANONS! here

taste

summary: your favourite artist, sabrina carpenter asks you to be in her new music video, ‘taste’, which of course you couldn’t refuse…

it’s not christmas without you

summary:

red wine supernova

summary:

we never go out of style

summary: y/n is caught in a complicated relationship with singer sabrina carpenter, who picks her up for a late-night drive. despite knowing their connection often leads to heartbreak, y/n can’t resist sabrina's allure. they share a passionate encounter, but y/n realizes they're stuck in a cycle of returning to each other. after their intense moment, y/n chooses to leave, aware that they will likely reunite again despite the pain.

i’m not perfect

summary: y/n develops an intense obsession with singer sabrina carpenter, feeling both admiration and jealousy. after meeting her at a performance, y/n’s fixation deepens as sabrina acknowledges their presence, making the attraction even harder to ignore. despite sabrina’s kindness, y/n struggles with the emotional pain of unrequited feelings, caught between admiration and the torment of knowing sabrina is out of reach.

demitra kalogera

HEADCANONS! here

sunday kalogera

HEADCANONS! here

the heart wants what it wants (WRITING!)

summary:

jennifer lawernce

HEADCANONS! here

just good friends

summary:

the interviewer

summary:

coffee?

summary:

emma roberts

HEADCANONS!

the babysitter (WRITING!)

summary: Y/N, a 19-year-old college student, gets a job babysitting actress Emma Roberts’ 4-year-old son, Rhodes. As Y/N cares for him, she starts to feel a growing tension between her and Emma. They share small, intense moments, and Emma admits that Y/N feels “different” to her. Though their conversation is interrupted, the unspoken attraction between them is clear, leaving things unresolved.

never too old

summary:

male celebrities!

timothee chalamet

HEADCANONS! here

no strings attached

summary:

i hate you

summary:

matt sturniolo

HEADCANONS! here

again

summary: you and matt have been so called 'friends' for years even though there is something clearly there. matt is sick of being just friends and decides to do something about it…

teachers pet (REWRITING!)

summary: on the first day of school, Y/N encounters Mr. Sturniolo, a young, charismatic new english teacher who draws her attention with his engaging manner and attractive appearance. during a private discussion after class, his intense concern and personal focus create an underlying tension, leaving Y/N both intrigued and unsettled about their evolving relationship.

sick

summary:

the grudge

summary:

cardigan

summary:

chris sturniolo

HEADCANONS! here

idfc

summary: y/n is stuck in a toxic relationship with chris sturniolo, who often disappears and returns drunk. despite knowing he's not truthful or committed, y/n can’t let go. one night, after he comes back, they share an intimate moment, and she asks him to lie and say he loves her, even though she knows it’s fake. unable to break free from her feelings, y/n accepts the lies for the fleeting comfort they bring.

frat boy

summary:

i trusted you

summary:

invisible string

summary:

characters!

wednesday addams

HEADCANONS! here

just a little bite

summary: Y/N, a vampire, returns to wednesday addams' dorm after a day out, sensing her girlfriend's hidden frustration at being apart. as Y/N teases wednesday about her vampire nature, they share playful intimacy through biting. their connection deepens, revealing Wednesday’s vulnerability and desire, ultimately strengthening their bond in the shadows.

smoking

summary: you and wednesday addams, your stoic roommate, share an unspoken romantic tension. one night, she catches you smoking and warns you about the dangers, impulsively throwing your last cigarette out the window. angry, you confront her, but the confrontation reveals deeper feelings between you two, culminating in a tentative kiss that changes everything.

jealous girl (WRITING!)

summary:

mine

summary:

i despise you

summary:

the perfect girl

summary:

ethan landry

HEADCANONS! here

i did this for you, for us (WRITING!)

summary:

that boy is a monster

summary: y/n becomes dangerously infatuated with ethan landry, who hides a dark, monstrous side behind his charm. despite knowing he’s dangerous, y/n can’t resist the pull of his intense gaze and possessive nature. as ethan slowly consumes y/n’s heart and soul, y/n falls deeper into the twisted relationship, unable to escape the hold he has over them. in the end, y/n willingly lets ethan devour their heart, accepting the monster he truly is.

boyfriend

summary:

nerd

summary:

yknow i’ve always had a thing for you

summary:

kiss me

summary:

you belong to me

summary:

jill roberts

HEADCANONS! here

come here dressed in black

summary: Y/N discovers that her girlfriend, jill roberts, is ghostface. despite the horrifying truth, Y/N feels a strong attraction to jill, especially when she reveals herself in the ghostface costume. caught between fear and desire, Y/N struggles to leave the dangerous relationship, unable to resist jill's dark allure.

i won’t hurt you

summary:

you’re mine

summary:

can’t even

summary:

ghostface

HEADCANONS! here

pretty girl (WRITING!)

summary:

billy loomis

HEADCANONS!

nothing yet…

stu macher

HEADCANONS!

nothing yet…

tara carpenter

HEADCANONS!

caught

summary:

let’s ruin the friendship (WRITING!)

summary:

the roommate

summary:

my axe (WRITING!)

summary:

vada cavell

secret

summary:

astrid deetz

just friends

summary: you find yourself caught in a complicated relationship with astrid deetz, who is spending time with another guy named jeremy. as you navigate your feelings of jealousy and confusion, you confront astrid about her intentions, leading to an emotional struggle between love and heartbreak. despite your desire to be together, it becomes clear that the timing may not be right, leaving you to question what you truly mean to each other.

do i wanna know?

summary:

jackie taylor

HEADCANONS!

am i making you feel sick?

summary: y/n alone in the wilderness, applies lipstick to jackie's lifeless body and is visited by jackie's ghost. jackie hints that your true hunger is for her, not just for food. as jackie's spirit fades, y/n is overwhelmed by the realisation of jackie's death and her own deep grief.

katniss everdeen

HEADCANONS!

nothing yet…

finnick odair

HEADCANONS!

nothing yet…

tori vega

HEADCANONS!

nothing yet…

jade west

HEADCANONS!

leaving tonight

summary:

quinn fabray

HEADCANONS!

nothing yet…

rafe cameron

HEADCANONS!

ruin the friendship

summary:

max mayfield

HEADCANONS!

nothing yet…

eleven

HEADCANONS!

first kiss (WRITING!)

summary:

tate langdon

nothing yet…

madison montgomery

i insist

summary:

living dead girl

summary:

brooke thompson

nothing yet…

lee (bones and all)

nothing yet…

michael myers

sick love story

summary:

chop, chop, slide

summary:

leon kennedy

nothing yet…

bela dimitrescu

nothing yet…

debra morgan

nothing yet…

dexter morgan

nothing yet…

rick grimes

nothing yet…

daryl dixon

nothing yet…

vanessa afton

nothing yet…

pyramid head

nothing yet…

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

Characters/Ships I write for

If you have a request for a character/ship that isn't here but is a part of the fandoms listed here, send me an ask, and I'll see if I can write it! Masterlist . Rules Requests are Closed

(I do not support jkr, trans women are women)

Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid, Will LaMontagne Jr, Luke Alvez

Divergent: Peter Hayes, Tobias Eaton

Resident Evil: Leon Kennedy, Chris Redfield, Ethan Winters, Carlos Oliveira

Inheritance Games: Jameson Hawthrone, Grayson Hawthorne, Nash Hawthrone

Harry Potter: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, Newt Scamander, Cedric Diggory

Marvel: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Jack Thompson, Daniel Sousa

Maze Runner: Thomas, Newt, Minho, Aris

Hunger Games: Coriolanus Snow, Finnick Odair, Peeta Mellark

Riordanverse: Luke Castellan, Leo Valdez, Jason Grace, Percy Jackson

The Umbrella Academy: Ben Hargreeves, Five Hargreeves, Viktor Hargreeves

Others: Cardan Greenbriar(Folk of the Air), Jace Wayland(Shadowhunters), The Darkling(Shadow and Bone), Kaz Brekker(Six of Crows), Ravi Singh(AGGGTM), Peter Sutherland(The Night Agent), Donald Ressler(The Blacklist), Master Chief(Halo), Robert Chase(House MD)

I write ships too! These include Jily(james potter x lily evans), Hinny(harry potter x ginny weasley), Larkland(peter sutherland x rose larkin), Steggy(steve rogers x peggy carter), Wolfstar(sirius black x remus lupin), Percabeth(percy jackson x annabeth chase), Ronmione(ron weasley x hermione granger), Willifer(will lamontauge jr x jj), Malina(malyen oretsev x alina starkov), Remadora(remus lupin x andromeda tonks), Cleon(claire redfield x leon kennedy), Valveria(Jill Valentine x Carlos Oliveira), Thearoy(thea queen x roy harper), Newtmas(newt x thomas), SunWings(apollo x icarus), Eurymene(eurylochus x ctimene), OdyPen(odysseus x penelope)

[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

[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.”

[aliorsboxostuff]

MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS OPEN!

Come check out my works bellow!

I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)

RULES:

I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. Please be aware that i write based on my current fixations. Fixations may vary in how much i want to write them so i’ll be ranking from the MOST interested to the LEAST interested but will write. Please be patient in waiting for your fics as i, sadly, have IRL work to worry about too! 

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut 

Platonic or Romantic relationships

Kid!reader (ONLY platonic-parental relationships)

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST!

Current immediate fixation:

HOUSE MD (Up to s2)

Gregory House 

James Wilson

Robert Chase

Lisa Cuddy

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

MORTAL KOMBAT 1

Johnny Cage

Kenshi Takahashi

Tomas Vrbada

Syzoth

HONKAI STAR RAIL

Boothill

Welt

Sampo

Gallagher

Dr. Ratio

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

Less interested (but will write) Fixations:

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.

If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!

For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands. 

Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!

[ptrickbateman]

i need someone to put me in a cage fr

I HAVE TO FINISH MY LEON FIC BUT THE VOICES ARE FORCING ME TO CREATE A LORE FOR A HOUSE MD ORIGINAL CHARACTER. IT’S ALL JESSE SPENCER’S HAIR’S FAULT 😭😭

STAY IN THE BOX !! NOOO !! STAY IN THE BOX !! NOOOO !!!! GET OUT OF MY SKINNN !!!

[vintagedebutante]

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

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

I don’t judge

[sorchathered]

Let’s do IT for our country

Pairing- President!Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader

Warnings- smut smut and more smut, breeding kink, language, mentions of pregnancy, us politics, I think that’s it?

Summary- Robert Floyd had never wanted to be the president, but here in the Oval Office on inauguration night with his First Lady? He could get used to nights like this.

A/N- It’s that time again! Another IBFFM, but this time with an older version of our sexy WSO. Mr. President is about 45 here, his First Lady is in her mid 30’s.

Also it’s @bobgasm ‘s birthday present!! Happy birthday to my precious Steph, love you so much baby!!

For as long as he could remember, Robert Floyd had been told he would be great.

His family name was synonymous with the likes of Kennedy and Roosevelt, the Floyd’s were some of the most influential in political history, and with that came high expectations. You must go to a prestigious college, you must serve your country (whether that be as a civil servant or military member), and you must marry the right kind of person. They talked about it as if they were breeding horses, and it never made any sense to him, so long as he found someone kind and supportive all of the bullshit that his family expected mattered very little to him. He would tick off whatever boxes they wanted, but it would be on his own terms.

He went to the US Naval Academy after high school, refusing to hop onto the Ivy League lifestyle his grandfather so desperately cherished. Moving on to aviation as a WSO and then becoming one of the top 1% in the country in his field. It was a distinguished career to be sure, but he’d been adamant that he had no interest in pursuing a political career, and certainly not the presidency.

He still wasn’t sure what had brought him to this point, or how he’d somehow managed to bag his dream girl in the process. A feisty junior senator from Delaware, good family, strong morals and drop dead gorgeous to boot, you’d been his match in every way. Sure you had hated his guts, he was the golden boy and you had dealt with his kind your whole life. But after a particularly long day in the senate he’d asked you to dinner, and while you’d had half a mind to tell him no the prospect of a free meal wasn’t worth passing up. So in a dingy dive bar with greasy burgers and cheap beer, you took a chance on him and fell ridiculously in love.

Four years had passed since you’d both sat in the creeky wooden booths of that shitty bar, and it felt simultaneously like yesterday and a lifetime ago. His family had pushed him into politics and while he had been adamant in the beginning that he would never pursue the presidency, the world had changed dramatically since he first refused the mantle. He may have hated the pageantry of it all, but at his core he truly did want to help people, and they certainly took notice. He’d run a clean and honest campaign with his best girl by his side, and won in a landslide. Everything moved very quickly from Election Day to Inauguration Day, it almost felt like he had blinked and he was here, wandering the halls of the west wing after skipping out on the last two of 10 gaudy inaugural balls he’d been forced to attend. He’d been going since sunrise and still couldn’t seem to get the jitters under control so he could rest; he suspected it would be quite a while before that feeling went away. Shaky hands moved to open the door to the Oval Office, completely renovated and designed by his beautiful wife to fit his style and personality, you’d made sure he would want for nothing, he’d be spending so much time in this room and it seemed only logical to make it a calm and safe space for him and his thoughts. It felt so much like his office at home, even down to the worn leather chair and the soft scent of sandalwood and tobacco from the candles you bought because it reminded you of him. You had told him you’d be heading to change and wouldn’t be gone long, he had plans to unwind with a bottle of bourbon and maybe a game or three of checkers, but as you slipped into the spacious and hallowed room belonging to the commander in chief, he nearly jolted out of his skin. There you were, his First Lady, in a skimpy little silk robe, intricate updo long gone in favor of soft curls, and the adorable little fuzzy cat slippers that he’d bought you for Christmas.

“Good evening Mr. President” you said with a smirk as you locked the door and padded over to his desk. You’d chosen well, the beautiful mahogany writing table had belonged to Theodore Roosevelt, and while it hadn’t been used in many a president’s term, you had made sure it was painstakingly restored and ready for his first day. Now that you were here, all he could seem to think of is how much fun it might be to test the sturdiness of the surface, perhaps he did need to blow off a little steam after such a stressful day…

“Sweet girl, you do realize there’s cameras everywhere right?” He said as you pushed his chair back just enough to fit between his thighs, very gently sitting on the edge of the antique escritoire. This desk had seen many a scandal, so many historical events, and you were quite sure she should handle the weight of what you had planned next.

“Already got that covered, Phoenix is on surveillance right now, you can go ahead and go dark Nat!” You said in the general direction of where they’d mentioned cameras were placed, a notification on your phone let you know she’d confirmed that the two of you had thirty minutes all to yourselves and you broke out in a blinding grin as you leaned forward to press a kiss to Bob’s jawline. The sharp intake of breath and his hands immediately going to your hips let you know he’d need this just as much as you, it had been embarrassingly long since the two of you had been together, and you filed away the notion that you would need to make sure you had the right security in play to make quickies like this a regular occurrence, policy be damned.

You’d drawn his lips to yours as you untied his tie and began unbuttoning the front of his dress shirt, his hands had drifted to palming your ass as he licked the seam of your mouth, a gasp from you was all he needed to slide his tongue against yours, squeezing you a little more roughly and all but pulling you into the plush office chair.

“Fuck I missed you,” he breathed into your mouth, you’d nearly gotten his dress shirt removed when he slotted his knee between your legs, large hands gripping the back of your thighs as he placed you back on the desk, this time swiping whatever loose papers off the top and sending them cascading across the plush carpet that held the presidential seal. You squealed and giggled, watching with rapt attention as he removed his dress shirt and exposed the defined freckled skin of his arms, pulling his undershirt off with less finesse as it joined the pile of papers on the floor. “I’ve never found a president to be sexy until just this moment, I have to admit, you look damn good in this office, sir” you said as you leaned back on your palms and ogled him, heat crept up his cheeks and chest at your praise, but his eyes had darkened at the honorific, you knew exactly what you were doing to him, and he could feel his dress slacks getting uncomfortably tight as you ran your bare feet up and down the back of his legs.

“You wanna be a good girl for me Madame First Lady? Let me lay you out and devour you where anyone could walk in?” His voice grew impossibly deeper and you let out a whimper in response, shifting to try and get some relief. You did want that, you wanted it so badly you could scream, it was the very thought of being dirty and unladylike for the man you loved that had you so hot and bothered, and he trailed one long finger down your sternum to remove your robe, fire in his eyes as he opened the sash and found you completely bare for him.

“Goddamn it, should have known you’d do this, you know exactly how to wind me up don’t ya? Whole world wants to know how to bring me to my knees and all they’d have to do is weaponize you and this perfect pussy.” He was completely fixated on your arousal glistening between your legs, and while normally you’d let him take his time, you knew it wouldn’t be long before some aid or agent came by to make sure he had everything he needed for the evening. If they only knew.

“Bobby, please? Don’t have a lot of time baby” you said as you squirmed on the polished wood and searched for some kind of relief. He seemed to snap out of his haze as lust clouded eyes fixed on yours, letting his index finger trail down your stomach and through your folds, watching your head fall back and chest heave at his teasing.

“Need to hear you say it sweet girl, you know what I want.” You blushed in earnest, he loved how dirty you could get, but that had always been behind closed doors in the comfort of your own home, you’d be mortified if anyone heard some of the things you’d said in the throes of pleasure; but it was his big day after all. If he wanted it, you’d give him the moon.

“Need your mouth on me Daddy, want you to make me cum and then fuck me with your big dick. Please? Please give it to me, ‘s been too long, fuck - I-“ you babbled at him as he continued to rub that one long finger up and down, it was maddening and had you choking on your words, thankfully he didn’t make you wait, spreading you open and pressing two fingers into you as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your clit. The relief was immediate, you moaned out into the empty room as he went to work on your aching pussy, drawing tight circles with this tongue as he scissored his fingers inside you. It had been weeks and he knew he’d need to get you ready, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was going insane over the little noises you made and the iron grip you had on his hair, tugging at his scalp as you bucked up into his pretty face to search for your release.

It was startling how fast he got you there, you were certain you were dripping down onto the desk now, wet smacks and moans coming from between your thighs as you peeked down to look at his deep cerulean eyes. He was too damn good at this and he knew it, had the audacity to wink at you as he nibbled on your clit and with a gasp you came all over his face, watching as he wiped his mouth with his arm and smirking like the cocky bastard he was. He controlled the entire free world now, but he would still consider it his greatest accomplishment that he could render his pretty wife to a babbling needy mess with his tongue. Disheveled looked good on you, blush spread across your cheeks and chest, hair a mess, and your release all over your thighs from what he intended to be one of at least three mind blowing orgasms.

You looped your heavy arms around his neck and kissed him languidly, you didn’t seem to be as worried about the time anymore and for that he was thankful. He wanted to take his time, and if somebody walked in they would find out very quickly to knock, he couldn’t give a shit about anything other than getting his cock inside you.

You knew the rule all too well; no visible marks. It had been that way from the very beginning, which was unfortunate because you wanted so badly to mark his pretty neck up and make sure everyone knew he was yours, but the compromise was that you could leave them anywhere below the collarbone, so as he fished for the condom he’d stashed in his pocket (hoping to end the night just like this), you licked down his neck and began nibbling on the flesh of his pecks, sucking a nipple into your mouth and looking up at him as his jaw went slack. “Oh Christ, you gotta stop that baby or we’ll be finished before we even get started” he panted out and tried not to buck up into you, the hand gripping your thigh was sure to leave a mark but you couldn’t give a shit, there was something so powerful in being able to bring the most powerful man on earth to his knees, and even better knowing that he was insatiable for you.

“Then fuck me Mr. President, and you don’t need that condom either. I think you should put a baby in me, fill me up so good that I’m dripping with you all day tomorrow.” You grinned at him but he looked completely debauched, he ran a hand through his graying sandy locks and blinked down at you, almost at a loss for words.

“You little minx, you’ve been just waiting all day to drop that on me haven’t you? Need me to cum in that pretty pussy and get you good and knocked up? Fuck you’d think it was my birthday or something, I don’t know how I got it so good.” He said as he spread you out and ran his hands all over you, you were whimpering and grinding into him and he was sure he’d pass out if he was any harder, slipping himself out of his briefs and sliding his length through your slick. You were trying hard to be quiet, sure it was late but there was bound to be someone on watch, Bob gripped your chin as he slid into you and kissed you sloppily, all teeth and tongue and moans, shallow thrusts to get you ready turned rough when you sucked his bottom lip and pushed your hips up to take him to the hilt. You gripped the front of the desk behind your head and let him pound you into it, the need for quiet long forgotten as you alternated between crying out and calling him daddy.

It didn’t take him long before he was close, the aftershocks of your second orgasm seemed to keep him gripped so tight that he could barely think straight, he was furiously rubbing your clit to get you there again as he watched tears drip down your flushed cheeks, he’d never forget tonight for the rest of his life. Not all the fanfare, not even the immense weight of the mantle he was about to take, but this moment right here, wrapped up in his gorgeous wife as he fucked her silly in the Oval Office. You wailed out “I’m cumming” as you gripped him tight with your pulsing heat and he tumbled over the edge right along with you, warming you from the inside out as he filled you up.

You cradled his sweaty form in your arms as you both came down from your high, giggles erupting from him as it really set in what you two had done.

“Ah shit, well everyone’s gonna know that we can’t keep our hands to ourselves after this, I imagine the press will have a field day.” He kissed your nose as you grinned at him, both of you still joined together but neither of you ready to separate.

A loud ring came from his phone and it sent a jolt through both of you, wide eyes trained on his as he leaned forward and grabbed it off the hook. His eyes were full of mirth as he nodded his head once, twice and bid them goodnight, pinching your cheek with his free hand before hanging up.

“What was that all about?” You said, trying to push him up so you could get decent and off his desk.

“That was Nat, she said we need to hurry the hell up before me going MIA causes a national emergency.” He was joking of course, but the secret service agents at the door couldn’t look either of you in the eye as you shuffled down the hallway with Bob’s hand in yours, and it was no surprise to anyone when you turned up pregnant by the state of the union.

Tagging- @bobgasm @attapullman @bobfloydsbabe @floydsglasses @sebsxphia @roosterforme @sunsetsimpsblog @seitmai @auroralightsthesky @withahappyrefrain @hangmanapologist

[melancholicstation]

LONER!BOBBY AND POPULAR!READER HEADCANONS — modern! bobby f. kennedy ᥫ᭡

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

word count: 989

you meet during co-ed sailing at the college in which bobby, in all his clodhopping charm, accidentally capsizes the small sailing boat ( that, to his credit, looked about as sturdy as the remote controlled boats loaned out in central park )

expecting you to freak out bobby immediately moves to provide incessant apologies, looking and sounding like an about to be scolded boy, but is eventually dismantled by your acceptance and carefree attitude.

stupidly bobby had regarded your personality to match your exterior: heeled boots, glossy lips, hair misted by diptique’s ‘do son’ and a trusty gel lacquer of 151 pirate polish always freshly applied. in his un-frontal lobe developed brain he thought that the prissy nature of your appearance would influence your temperament when dealing with him.

he was quite shocked to find the polar opposite.

after co-ed sailing you hit it off, purely as friends at first but not without your friends constant teasing of your friendship. mostly because of your polar opposite demeanours

bobby’s being one shrewd in mystery and signposted by: his quiet affliction when dining in the cafeteria, shocked and startled by even the most casual expressions of noise. not heterogeneous to that of a undomesticated fawn.

to get to and fro the campus and the sixty-three acreage that was the schools athletic centre bobby would only carry the upmost essentials to his very being: saratoga tortoise shell reading glasses, an agamemnon by aeschylus first edition hardback, and his iPhone 6 plus encased in a intrecciato colorblocked leather briefcase that was comically big for his slender model-esk frame

being that bobby had no instagram account ( despite him being an anomaly in the chronically online classmates ) communication was tricky to say the least

after a series of misguided letters back and forth placed by bobby into your locker and vice versa, you eventually exchanged numbers

despite this, on occasion, bobby slips note cards in varying hues of lilac, honey orange, and taupe into your locker accompanied by hand-written quotes by your favourite writers: joan didion and virginia woolf alongside a clumsily taped blue-raspberry salt water taffy with such care that could only be achieved via a love-sick collegiate-aged boy

when invited to your house, you quickly excuse yourself and tell bobby to let himself into your bedroom. you find him awkwardly positioning himself on your bed, covered in pink floral print, half-sitting on the bed while looking comedically uncomfortable

it’s not until his fourth visit that he begins to perform comfort and seems at peace, finally finding a non-chaotic safe place to metaphorically rest his head, a place without the chaotic nature of his home situation with his 8 rambunctious siblings

when you and your popular cliche encourage him to come to one of your famous beach bashes he’s understandably hesitant but cannot resistant your batting eyelashes and soft assurances while scratching his head that you’ll be there the entire time right alongside him.

so he goes and gets completely trashed. like BLIND drunk due to his inexperienced tolerance to alcohol at about 10:00pm. the party started at only 8:30pm…

neither of you seem to mind: with yourself being smitten towards his loosening of ambitions and his platonic touchiness brought on by his intoxication, and bobby being interior too trashed to know right from left.

the party ends around 12pm with you slinging bobby’s pashmina cardigan over your right shoulder, and trying to gather bobby frame on your left to reach the uber

END OF SFW HC’s NSFW IS AFTER THIS POINT!

loves to have you sit on his face but your constantly making sure your not hurting him until he eventually shuts you up with an climax or seven what who said thatttt

you love to give bobby hickies just for the fun of seeing what creative ways he chooses to style his outfits in an effort to hide them. what you don’t love is your friends incessant teasing of both him and you as a result

popular!reader loves to put her fingers in bobby’s mouth during s*x just cause she finds it hot

your always giving him love bites

like he’s sometimes so cute in his button up and misplaced tie that you just want to bite his cute arms all over!

both of you are a big a fan of mutual masturbation over facetime

always making love raw, so much that it’s a miracle that you aren’t both parents by the age of 20

definitely pulls your hips back to him if he feels you squirming while eating you out

he definitely asks you to marry him two months into dating during a passionate sexual escapade

is a tits man through and through

will hold your boobs in his sleep

has a mysterious exterior with all your friends but is a total blob of sincerity whenever your alone together

loves to feed you honeycombs as an aftercare ritual, doesn’t matter the time or place

he loves to be pulled by the hair sorryyyyy

is very turned on when you get jealous of girls talking to bobby, now that he’s adjacent to the popular crowd

he adores dry humping sorry someone had to say it and i guess that person is me

you ab ride bobby when he’s all sweating from karate practice ( cause he’s a loser like that )

bobby likes that your the taller one in the relationship unresolved dominance kink that will never be explored

only time he feels undeniably confident and himself is when he’s in bed with you…

because you both still live with your parents you make it a game to see who can stay quiet the longest

you make brief, short home videos together but bobby’s too paranoid and you eventually delete all evidence of it’s existence to ease his mind.

[literary-motif]

Primal

Asirel Cain x Reader

Asirel's sister gets kidnapped.

Warnings: kidnapping, anxiety/panic attack

Asirel glanced at you, lounging on the couch in his study with some papers in your hand. They looked suspiciously like the files he had been searching for last night, but he chose not to comment on it. Yet. The tentative peace — and the silence you so readily broke in your boredom — made concentrating easier, and he still needed to finish revising the pages Isaac had sent him. 

The telephone rang, and he groaned, torn out of the words on the page once more. He picked it up without looking at the caller ID, keeping his eyes on the page before him and scribbling a question to clarify later with Isaac on the margin. “Yes?”

“Mr. Cain, how generous of you to pick up,” the deep voice cooed, Asirel tensing immediately as he recognized it to belong to William Kennedy, a rather unimportant player in the real estate business — unlike his father had been — and one he was entirely ready to forget after he had run the company to the ground. 

Markets shifted. It was not entirely Asirel’s fault, but he knew better than to think his father had not warned William, telling him to keep an eye out about the Collective — or perhaps Asirel, specifically — meddling in their affairs. William had seemed just arrogant enough to blame it all on him, and Asirel liked to keep tabs on his enemies. 

“Mr. Kennedy,” he said drily, putting down the pencil to give him his undivided attention. “How can I help you?”

William chuckled, making Asirel frown. Something about the sound made him weary, drawing his guard up further as he clicked through the security footage, a little voice warning him to tread carefully. 

“It’s not so much about helping me, as it is about helping yourself,” he said cryptically, and Asirel had to suppress a scoff despite the looming threat of something unspoken between them. 

“I don’t follow.”

“Let me put it this way,” William said. Shuffling came from the other end of the line, a low groan that made Asirel’s blood freeze. “Want to say hello to your brother, dear?” 

“Fuck you.” His sister’s unmistakable snarl cut through his heart like a shard of glass. His eyes widened, and despite his best efforts, his hands began to shake. 

You smelled his surge of fear, glancing up from some intricate real estate business to look at Asirel. His heart rate was elevated, and you clicked your tongue in distaste at the scent of his blinding panic. 

“So, Mr. Cain. What are we going to do about this little predicament, hm?”

Asirel fought hard to keep his voice steady, cold, and devoid of the emotion curling in his chest. Anyone else, he would have no problem keeping his cool. Anyone else, he would have informed his trusted circle to clean up this mess with as much damage as they saw fit, but this was family. The matter was personal, and he could not help trembling at the thought that his sister was in danger. “What do you want?”

“Ever the businessman, I see. Straight to the point. My father told me you were someone not to mess with after the whole business with Incessant Inc. Do you remember Robert Kennedy? He talked highly of you before you ran us into the ground.”

His voice sounded like it came from underwater, and Asirel blinked unseeing as his mind conjured up images of his sister, tied to a chair, chained to a wall, scared, terrified while she put up a brave facade and counted on him to get her out of this mess. “Yes.”

“Anyway. How about this: you pull a few strings and get us back to the market value of roughly a year ago, and I’ll send you back this little viper without a scratch? It sounds more than fair to me, Asirel.”

The agreement was on his tongue, but he bit his lip at the last second. Desperate. It would give him the upper hand. It would reveal just how scared he was. How could he not be? It felt like someone had cut open his ribcage, and held his fearfully beating heart in their hand — ready to crush it. 

“Don’t take too long to decide. It’s awfully boring here, you know. I get bored quite easily, and when I do, all I can assure you is that she will be in one piece. Unharmed, well. We shall see about that.”

“Fine,” Asirel bit out, pouring as much venom and disdain into the word as he could, despite the pleading tone wanting to crawl up his throat and beg him not to hurt her. “Fine. Agreed. I need the rest of the week.”

“You have until tonight,” William said, his tone leaving no room to argue as the line went dead. 

Asirel did not notice you get up from your place on the couch. He could not hear anything outside of the blood rushing in his ears, his heart hammering painfully hard in his chest while reality twisted into a cruel, dangerous nightmare. He knew he needed to act, needed to do something but sit here and panic. 

He could not move, the telephone tumbling from his grip as his body felt heavy and airily light at the same time. Gravity seemed to pull him under, crush him into the ground while he was suspended in water, weightlessly drifting away as waves of fear and guilt tore at him. 

He needed to snap out of it. He needed to snap out of it. 

There were pills in the top drawer, the anxiety medication he ignored for the better part of the year always stocked in case he needed it. His hand flailed around, dragging open the drawer gracelessly as he rummaged through it for the little bottle with hands shaking annoyingly hard. 

His chest burned, and for the life of him he could not figure out why his heart was burning so much until it spasmed painfully, and he realized his breath had lodged in his throat. He squeezed the bottle tighter, uselessly trying to pry it open. 

You took it from his unsteady hands, opening it effortlessly and shaking out two pills he dry-swallowed immediately. He held onto the desk with a white-knuckled grip, taking a deep breath. “My sister—” he began.

“I heard.”

“I have to—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

His gaze snapped up to look at you, impressively sharp for someone whose mind was clouded with panic not a minute ago. “There is— is no room for mistakes here. I’ll send a— a team with you.”

“I work alone.”

“No, no,” he breathed, shaking his head while his hand reached for the telephone. “Not this time, I can’t—”

You took hold of his wrist, stopping his movement while you glared at him. “You want her to be safe?” you asked, not missing how his heart rate picked up at the reminder of the peril his beloved sister was in. “Let me do what I do best, howI do it best. You know what I’m capable of.”

He considered this for a long moment, and you could see in the quiet resignation of his eyes that he agreed with you. “Fine,” he said finally, and you released his hand with a triumphant grin. “I’m coming with you.”

The disbelieving laugh tearing out of your throat made him shoot you a dark glance. “No, you won’t. You’ll drag me down.”

“I will, end of discussion,” he said, rising to his feet unsteadily. 

You suppressed a snarl. “End of discussion, yeah?” you asked, raising your shoulders in a shrug, mocking apathy as you walked over to the couch again. “Good luck fetching her by yourself, then. I go alone, or I don’t go at all.”

“Pet!” he said, his voice rough with anger. His fists were clenched at his sides, shaking in rage and fear. “This is not the time for your games. Now, come on. I command you—!”

“Oh, commanding me, are you?” you teased, flopping onto the couch again, nuzzling into the pillows as you lazily picked up the papers. “Good luck with that.”

Asirel’s eyes widened, distraught at your stubbornness. “Please,” he said, and you had to blink a few times to keep your head from spinning. He was all over the place, angry for an instant before his voice shook on the verge of tears. It was surprisingly easy to dissolve him. A few prods, a kidnapped sister and he stumbled over himself, entirely useless as he scurried around lost, like a helpless bird caught in a cage. “Don’t do this to me now, please.”

How hard you thought your heart might be, it melted at his anguished look, and you silently cursed yourself for allowing him to have this sway on you. “Fine, fine,” you said, getting up from the couch and tossing the papers aside carelessly. 

He perked up immediately, blinking away the tears in his vision. 

“I go alone,” you said. “I’m getting her back unscratched, trust me. Just sit tight, and we’ll be back before you know it.”

You saw he wanted to argue, but he bit his lip instead, giving a stiff nod. You were out the door the next second, and as the minutes ticked by and he sat uselessly in his office chair, checking security footage all around the city, the thought struck him that by all means, you should not even know where the hell it was they were keeping her. 

He did not doubt your abilities for a moment — could not allow himself to, else the panic curling in his chest like a sleeping beast would be awakened again full force — so he chose to trust you instead. Minutes ticked by, crawling into half an hour. 

Another handful of minutes, and you were gone for less than an hour that felt much too close to eternity to his restless mind, before the security cameras picked you up, strolling casually down the street with his sister on your arm, talking amicably. 

She did not look hurt. On the contrary, she seemed quite content, throwing her head back in laughter every once in a while at whatever it was you told her. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly through his mouth. She was safe. She was safe. 

Asirel leaned back in his chair, suddenly exhausted. The tension headache hit him like a train, and he winced as he massaged his temples. 

“I can’t believe he said that!” his sister’s amused laugh tore him out of his thoughts, and he rose from his seat again, opening the door into the hallway where your hand was poised, ready to knock. 

She was beside you, cheeks tainted a little red from laughter, and he let instinct take over, enveloping her in a crushing hug and squeezing her so tightly against him that he feared anyone seeing the scene would find his weakness spelled out painfully clear. 

“She’s charming,” you said, giving her a cheeky grin as she chuckled in amusement. 

Asirel only held her tighter. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice muffled against her shoulder. “Did they hurt you? Did—?”

“Asirel, relax,” she said, a hand reaching up to settle between his shoulder blades. “I’m fine. Nothing happened. It was a bit annoying — the guy sat me down on this hideous couch and would not shut up about some bartender disrespecting him. I wanted to punch him, but honestly, he didn’t seem worth it.”

“I tore out his heart if you’re wondering,” you said absentmindedly, frowning at the droplets of blood on your sleeves. 

“Yeah. That was metal of you. Not very demure.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, not missing Asirel’s quiet ‘thank you’ as he continued cradling her to his chest, assuring himself — and his racing heart — that she was safe, perfectly alright, and alive. 

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

Yes I have plenty to write- But I want moreee. Send me requests pleaseeeeeeeee

Of course read the rules for asks first!

Anddd look at the character I write for!(pstt you can even ask for ships ive listed)

Here's my Masterlist. It's not plentiful(minus the wolfstar-) but thats why im asking for requests so :3

So yeah. Think about it :]

[ellieslaces]

CAN’T CATCH ME NOW. three

presenting: umbrella’s hunger games

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: after spending your first few days drowning in Capitol grandeur, the training for the games begins. as you begin to prepare for the fight of your life in the arena, you realize that maybe the fight isn’t just for your life, but your dignity. the introduction to the other tributes makes you realize the reality of having to fight them, and possibly kill them. for what is the point of winning and living at the cost of others’ lives?

content warnings: harsh language; strong violence; slight misogyny; class discrimination; slight sexualization; heavy violence themes in this chapter

notes: this chapter contains heavy themes of violence; there are themes of sexualization of the reader by other Tributes and Capitol citizens; some more misogynistic themes; also, I am so sorry this took so long, life has been insane lately

chloe talks: um… hi. wow, it’s been a second. but, yeah, reader and Leon finally meet! the games start next chapter and so does the drama! enjoy! <3

word count: 4.91k

now playing: hypnotic ; zella day

can’t catch me now playlist

previous chapter ; next chapter

There was something overly malicious about this year’s pool of Tributes. The way even the youngest and smallest of the twenty four carried themselves emitted an energy that radiated that they wanted - no, needed - to win. Something about them all made you uneasy — even ones you knew stood absolutely no chance of winning.

And you wished you’d stayed in bed that morning as you stood beside Piers in the entryway of the Training Center. Despite the fact that everyone was just standing around due to the training not having officially begun yet, they all had a violent aura about them.

Your eyes scanned the room, gauging each Tribute. Trying to find ones who were set on being your opponent. However, you knew the other Career Tributes — such as the ones from Two and Three — would want to team up with you. And then betray you at the final moment. Your mind weighed your options as you and Piers walked toward where the group was standing. Until your eyes landed on the Tributes from Twelve.

This was the first time you’d seen either one of them in person. Things at the Tribute Parade had been far too hectic for you to try and see Leon Kennedy or his fellow female Tribute. But here they were. His blond hair stood out in the crowd — despite not being the only blond in the room. There was a certain feeling that seemed to emit from him. Not fear but more apprehension. And it drew you in like a magnet.

“Hey,” Piers mumbled to you as you’d paused in your tracks, eyes wide and set on Leon and Helena. “C’mon.”

You knew Piers was only trying to help you, trying to keep anyone from noticing your immediate attraction to the Tributes from Twelve. It could land you — and Piers — in deep shit in the arena. So, you snapped yourself out of your trance and followed him, standing at his side and trying not to look at Leon or Helena.

This proved difficult however, not giving your attention to memorize each minute detail of him because he was a manner of feet away from you. But, Piers was right. Focus was necessary and essential right now if you wanted to succeed.

The training leader — a man named Robert Kendo who was rumored to be a somewhat guarded and melancholic man who was harsh on Tributes since a few years ago a Victor had lost their mind and murdered his daughter — stepped forward, his eyes dark and set on everyone in the room.

“In a matter of weeks, twenty-three of you will be dead. One of you will be alive.” He started with a gruff voice, the rawness of his statement causing you to grimace. “All of that depends on how well you pay attention over the next three days, particularly to what I am about to say.”

Your brows pulled together at the roughness and seemingly overly honest tone of Kendo’s voice. He had no sympathy, no kindness. But, a part of you appreciated that, he wasn’t one to sugarcoat, and there wasn’t any way to make these events seem less than they were.

“First, no fighting with the other Tributes, you’ll have plenty of time for that in the arena.” Kendo announced, his voice droning as if he was used to seeing people breaking this rule. “There are four compulsory exercises, the rest will be individual training.”

Individual training — something not many Tributes took enough of an advantage of, according to Claire. It was a chance to be trained in private by your mentor, they would give advice and teach you techniques of how to survive once in the arena. It was something you planned to take full advantage of.

“My advice is, don’t ignore the survival skills.” Kendo instructed, his voice becoming harder as he said this, as if it were a warning. “Everybody wants to grab a sword, but most of you will die of natural causes.”

Your eyes tracked over to Piers, seeing a grimace on his face. This wasn’t something you were expecting to be told. Yes, you knew it was true that most Tributes died of natural causes or their own stupidity in the arena. But, to have Kendo warn you, it made it more of a real threat.

“Ten percent from infection, twenty percent from dehydration. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife.” His voice was warning, and the gruffness of his words made your eyes scan over through the faces of each Tribute.

Most of the careers didn’t care enough to pay attention to this bit of Kendo’s lecture, but you saw the wide eyes of a few of the kids from lesser Districts. This was the harsh reality of the games — not only the brutality and bloodlust of each Tribute fighting to get out alive, but the fact that the gamemakers craft each arena to be a killer as well.

But what Kendo hadn’t mentioned — and it was likely purposeful that he hadn’t — was the percentage of Tributes which would die by this year’s Mutts crafted for the arena. Every year, around ten percent of the Tributes died via Umbrella’s newest and gruesome creation of Mutts. There was no telling what they would be this year, just as the arena was a mystery.

While the entire prospect of the games, the arena in which you’d be dropped into, and the other Tribute’s you’d be pinned against scared you, the Mutts terrified you more. There was always something about the Mutts Umbrella created, something otherworldly, something gruesome and terrifying that made your skin crawl to simply think about them.

What horrors would you be subjected to? What creatures would chase you through the arena whilst you fought for your life against twenty-three other children, as fought off infection, and dehydration, and starvation? Why would it be fair to present such monsters to make the children who were already terrified more at risk for their life? It wasn’t, and that was what scared you more than twenty-three bloodthirsty people.

“Look at them, they’re itching to get their hands on weapons.” You mumbled as you stood at a screen, testing your knowledge of poisonous plants with Piers beside you.

“Weapons protect you.” He shrugged, watching with wonder as you got each prompt correct, never missing a plant that could kill despite a no lethal one looking the same.

“Knowledge protects as well as a sword, Piers.” You rolled your eyes, tapping the last plant with your finger and the program presented a picture of a S. You’d passed, all thanks to Claire’s training in wisdom.

“I know it’s tempting to use your combat in here,” you started, folding your arms over your chest as you turned to face Piers. “But, you need to brush up on your survival skills too. We don’t know what arena we’ll be put in.”

Piers let out a sigh, his eyes rolling as he stepped forward to the screen as you stepped back, motioning for his turn. His strong suit was far from survival skills. But, he acknowledged that he needed to know these things.

You gave a soft smile, seeing Piers get a few right before he got one wrong. “Just practice. I’ll see you at the apartment.”

Piers let out a grunt of acknowledgment as you smiled a bit before you walked away, leaving him fully concentrated on the task at hand. Your eyes scanned the training center, gauging where to go next. You knew you had an upper hand in this situation, you’d spent the better part of your life being trained by Chris and Claire. But, that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything for you to become better at.

Until you spotted the knife stand and the dummies. You smiled a bit — knives were your specialty. You didn’t know why, but you were best at knives versus any other weapon. Swords were too heavy, lances too long, axes too much work. Knives were small, easy, better for close encounters. Some could be thrown at a distance, and they were silent.

However, your smile dropped as you approached the knife stand, seeing a mop of dirty blond hair studying the knives. It did not take much for you to recognize who this was exactly. Your heart launched up into your throat, eyes going wide as you froze and frowned.

Oh this poor boy, he had no chance. At least, not with the way he was handling the knife in his hand and haphazardly swinging it at one of the dummies. You stood back for a moment before you walked over to the display of combat knives — really there were so many, combat knives, throwing knives, really any type you could even imagine — and picked one of a style you favored before your eyes tracked to the boy again.

“Your stance is wrong,” you spoke suddenly before you could even stop yourself.

The boy turned, the blue of his eyes causing a shock to run through you for a moment before his confused frown brought you back to the present. You stepped forward.

“Your feet are too close together. Someone could easily come at you and you’d fall backward.” You explained, coming to stand closer to him.

“More like this,” you pressed on, showing him how to properly stand with your own feet. Knees bent, feet a little more than shoulder width apart. “See?”

“Like this?” He finally spoke, mimicking your stance. His eyes found yours again, searching for encouragement or some sign that he’d done it right.

“Like that,” you nodded, raising your arms to guard yourself. “Your arm position is important too. Keep your right arm close to your side, and your left up to protect your face and chest.”

Leon slowly nodded, eyes tracking your stance before copying it himself. You stifled a smile as he did it wrong. You straightened, walking over and setting your own knife aside.

“Mm, more like this,” you mumbled, hands gently on his wrist as you guided his right arm closer to his side and then his left slightly more up. “Then sort of hunch your shoulders and lean forward. Good, that’s good.”

Leon’s eyes lit up a bit as you encouraged him. You took a step back, hands at your sides as you looked at him. His eyes followed your movement, brows pulled together. “Why’re you helping me?”

You shrugged, picking your own knife back up and resuming your stance in front of a dummy. “‘Cause you were gonna get yourself killed standing like that.”

“No, I mean why help me. We’re going to fight each other in the arena.” He reiterated, starting to stand straight.

“You deserve a chance.” You offered, before you shot him a look from the corner of your eye and he stopped moving, going back into the stance again. “You have a hammer grip on your knife right now, it’s best for blocking and chopping. It’s a strong grip.”

Leon frowned again, his eyes darting to how he was holding his own knife. It did not go amiss to you how his eyes - icy blue, yet holding a modem of warmth that made your soul want to melt - tracked over your every movement. Hell, it really was all you could think about, all you wanted to focus on.

"If you flip it over," you continued, flipping the knife in your hand in a quick, precise, and well practiced movement. "You have a reverse knife grip. Edge in or out, they both have advantages."

Leon's eyes lingered on your grip on the knife, flicking between it and his own to flip his knife over and mimic your grip. You nodded in encouragement. "Good, like that." Your eyes ticked to the dummy in front of you before you nodded back at Leon, motioning for him to step back. "Stand back a second."

He obeyed, straightening and taking a long stride backward. His eyes left your figure for only a moment to check behind him before latching onto you again. This was when you did something stupid. With your stance corrected and eyes narrowed on the dummy, you rolled out your neck before pressing the button on the stand beside you, the dummy on the stand jerking to life.

Mechanic dummies - costly and overly showy, but useful in training. This one was more ferocious than the ones you used in District One, its arm swinging at you with a blunt knife. You leaned back, dodging before leaping forward in a swift motion, slicing the edge of your knife against the mechanic arm.

The back and forth between you and the dummy did not last long, your moves instinctual and well practiced until the dummy shut down with your boot connecting to its side, as well as your knife lodged into its chest. You yanked out the knife with a grunt, standing straight. Your eyes went wide as you realized multiple of the Tributes had taken notice of your very stupid display of talent. You brushed it off though, remaining blase as you turned around to look at Leon.

The look on his face, the amazement in his eyes, it snatched the breath from your lungs. He made no effort to hide his shock - he looked absolutely mesmerized by the show you'd just put on. Social cues had never been your strong suit, so you just stood there, staring back at him.

"That was," Leon trailed off, almost as if he was unsure of whether or not he wanted to say the words that rested on the tip of his tongue. "Where'd you learn that?"

"My mentor." You shrugged, the words spilling out casually before you could stop them. Heat coursed through your cheeks as you saw the look on Leon's face. You knew you had advantages, being Chris and Claire's charge, having grown up being trained in things Leon only had a matter of days to learn.

"I could, um, teach you." You offered lamely, your words meek and awkward as you said it. Not the wisest offer, but you didn't really know what else to say. Leon shook his head.

"You don't have to do that." He responded, the words sounding harsher to you than he'd probably meant them. The warmth in your cheeks grew, from rejection and embarrassment now. You knew he was saying that because it was true, a nicer way of phrasing the harsh reality - you really didn't have anything to offer him. No amount of training from you or his mentor could save him. Could give him a better chance of survival.

“I don’t mind,” you pushed gently, your shoulders shrugging up as you tried to reassure the boy that it was not as big of a deal to you. But really, it was. Allies were made in the arena in haste. Allies were a falsehood here. No one actually cared about anyone else. In the end, it was an ally who betrayed, not an enemy.

“I know, I just,” Leon hesitated, his body langue taking back that guarded sort of look as he looked away from you. His voice was soft, hesitant, like he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Or make an enemy of you by pissing you off. “My mentor probably wouldn’t like that.”

Right. His mentor — Krauser. He really got the bad draw here. It was said Jack Krauser was ruthless as he was damaged. Both increasingly so. He’d experienced horrors in the games no one quite knew what to make of. In a way, you pitied Leon’s mentor. On the other hand, you hated him because he had a reputation for overexerting and overwhelming his Tributes to the breaking point.

You looked at the boy, studying his face for a moment as a sadness and sting of rejection seeped into your chest. It didn’t show though. No weaknesses, just as Claire taught you. “That is probably true. We are enemies, huh?”

Voice light and playful, you smiled at Leon. Your way of letting him know his rejection hadn’t angered you. It saddened you, however he didn’t need to know that. You placed the knife in your hand back on the stand, head tilted as you turned to smile at him again.

“Yeah, yeah we are.” Leon nodded, recovering startlingly fast with his own playful smile on his lips. A peace offering, a silent and mutual understanding of each other. You decided you liked his smile. Warm and friendly and it made your chest feel fuzzy. Your eyes dropped, hands folded behind your back.

“Good luck, twelve.” You mused, eyes looking back up at Leon with one last smile. The heel of your boot spun on the training floor, your footsteps thumping away from the knife stand. Leaving the boy of your greatest weakness and desires behind.

“Fuck, Chris! Ow!” You screeched, your brows pulled together as you twisted around suddenly, eyes narrowed and hot on your mentor as he walked into the apartment. His hand clapped on your shoulder harshly, a grin on his lips.

“Show off, aren’t we?” Chris grinned, his voice lilting as he came to sit across from you at the dinner table in the apartment. Claire shook her head — but her face betrayed her as she smiled as well. So, someone had spilled about your impromptu lesson to a certain Tribute.

Your eyes cut to Piers who sat to your left, his gaze avoiding yours. Little shit. You shook your head, fork moving around the delicate food on your plate. You offered a one shouldered shrug.

“I didn’t show off, I was just training.” You offered weakly, unbelievingly as you took a bite of the small pasta pearls on your plate. Your eyes tracked over the siblings who sat across from you. They shared a glance. Fucking Piers. Oh you’d kick his little tattle tale ass later.

“Sure thing, kiddo.” Chris nodded, playfully agreeing with your claim as he cut into the meat on his plate. Capitol food was too much for you, too delicate and gourmet. You liked Claire’s simple, home cooking. Your mentor’s eyes looked up at you again, brows raised. “Any particular reason you showed off to one of Krauser’s Tributes?”

“No,” you answered a little too quickly. Great job, good way to hide it. You shrunk into yourself ever so slightly, but it was extremely noticeable to the pair of siblings who raised you. They shared yet another glance. That made you feel as if you needed to defend yourself further. “I just saw him. He was gonna get himself killed if he went into the arena with what he knew.”

“That’s the point.” Claire said, brows raised as her voice was soft, but holding a certain modicum of a reprimanding tone. It made you want to crawl into yourself.

“No, the point is an equal fight to the death. Not sending in someone who can’t hold their own to die execution style.” You retorted, though you kept your words casual with a shrug as if you didn’t feel as passionately as you did for the subject. For Leon Kennedy.

“Actually, sunshine, it is.” Chris rebutted, not without gentle display though. You bristled slightly at the nickname he’d bestowed on you when you were young. He sighed, setting his fork and knife down on the edge of the porcelain plates of which the Capitol chose to serve their extravagant food on.

“The whole point of the Games aren’t a reminder anymore. It’s not a power play, it’s not a political statement anymore. It’s entertainment.” Chris explained, his words cutting through the air and hitting you where it hurt with the weight of their truth. “And sending kids like the ones from Twelve in against kids like you and Piers, it’s just more entertaining that way.”

“I know,” you grumbled, slinking lower into the velvet cushioned dining chair you sat in, dominant hand using your fork to push around the food on your plate. All appetite was lost on you. You’d rather starve than consume the food provided by the people who plotted your death.

And the thing that really hurt about Chris’s words — he was right. He was fucking right. Kids like Leon Kennedy and Helena Harper didn’t stand a chance in that arena. No matter how much preparation, how much optimism. Even the training you offered, nothing gave them a chance. They either had to be very lucky, smart, or have help. And help was unlikely. Very few bet on kids from lesser Districts.

But, as you studied the food on your plate and conversation quickly faded from your dramatic display of kindness in the training room to talk of upcoming interviews, you realized something. Maybe kids like Leon didn’t need external betting on their side. You couldn’t bet, you were a tribute. Mentors and stylists couldn’t bet because it was an unfair advantage. But, you could bet in other ways. You could rig the Games from the inside.

And that fact was more dangerous than any weapon you could wield in that arena.

Despite what you had previously believed, individual training had not been what you woke up and craved for every morning prior to the Games. You loved your one-on-one time with Chris and Claire, yes. It was not just for bettering your skills and knowledge to survive the arena, but a way to see them and spend time with them before your possible demise.

However, it was not what you looked forward to most. It was the group training. Going to the Tribute Center every morning from ten to dinner at five in the evening. Every morning you’d find yourself waking up just after sunrise, tossing and turning until you got tired and bored of laying in the plush bed and would sit up. You’d scroll on the screen on the wall, looking through all the different scenery options, music lists, short films on the history of Panem and the Umbrella Corporation, highlight clips from past Games.

That is, until you’d actually get up and dressed at nine and trudge out into the main apartment. You’d join Chris, Claire, and Piers at the dining table and have breakfast. Something small but nutritious. Enough to keep you going until break at noon in the Tribute Center for a small lunch. Three meals a day — not something most Tributes were used to. Even you some days.

But, for some reason, you adored the group training. Going to the Tribute Center and taking your pick of what to focus on. The options were endless — programs to test your survival skills, crafting stations, gymnastic training, video lectors on hunting and gathering. And of course the all favored and overused weapon choices. There were plenty of weapons to use. Some even you were unfamiliar with.

There were many different types of swords, knives of a wide and endless variety, axes, machetes, spears, tridents, scythes, maces, clubs, sickles, pikes, and even melee’s you couldn’t name. Of course there were no guns. Firearms were one of the few banned subjects and weapons. There were no set rules save for the presence of firearms. And the possibility of cannibalism. Not a subject the Capitol favored. Or anyone really for that matter.

Maybe it was the fact that you could size up each member of your competition that made you love group training so much. Or the ability to spar with live dummies. Or just the simple fact that you got to observe the Tributes from Twelve from afar. Or up close, in your stupider moments.

Piers had taken to endlessly and mercilessly teasing you. He proclaimed the morning of your second training that you must be in love with Leon Kennedy. He claimed that you had heart shaped pupils any time Leon entered your field of vision. A rather dramatic take on things.

You didn’t think what you harbored for Leon was love. No, it couldn’t be because you didn’t know him. You’d exchanged a few words with him, one knife combat demonstration, and an awkward goodbye. Glances were shared across training mats, or smile exchanged at the end of the day. But that was as far as your interactions with him went. So, in your mind, Piers was dramatic.

Except he wasn’t. Claire saw it, the observant cunt. She noticed everything. Even though she wasn’t present for group training, she just knew. She had to be fucking telepathic or something. Anytime District Twelve, its Mentor, or its Tributes were mentioned and you were in earshot, your eyes lit up. You perked up in a way that only meant obsession and adoration. She picked up on your cues, the way you paid extra attention for any breadcrumb of information on the Tributes from the poorest District in the country. And it reached a boiling point the night before the Games.

In private training, you worked not only on combat and survival knowledge, but on how to ace the Tribute Interviews set to air the night before the Games. Your final day in the Capitol was spent with a three hour group training, a lunch break, and working one-on-one with Mentors until the interviews. Which meant upwards of five hours practicing interview questions of a personal variety.

You spent a few hours doing some final knife and combat training with Chris before he sat you down to talk about your strong social points. Something you didn’t think you possessed.

“You’re witty, sunshine. Play on it.” Chris encouraged over a small dinner. It was two hours before the interview. Your stylist team was almost ready to start picking at you until you were a glittery piece of meat.

“No m’not. Claire says my wit is mean.” You said, rebutting Chris’s claims around a mouthful of stew.

Thank God Claire wasn’t there to see the offensively dramatic eye roll Chris gave in response to your claim. “No, it’s not. It’s charming. Just, don’t call the interviewer a pompous asshole and you’ll be fine.”

Easier said than done. That had been the extent of Chris’s advice. Claire’s however, was much more detailed and bossy.

“Smile, a lot. They fucking love it when you smile. Act like this is the biggest opportunity of your life.” Claire instructed, sitting at the edge of your temporary bed, watching as you stood on a pedestal, arms wide out as your stylist team dressed you.

You were done up in another one of Ingrid’s designs. She really liked to play on the peacock theme. This time, it was a long, trailing gown composed of jewels and peacock feathers. It looked more like stained glass in the color palette of a peacock. You actually kind of liked it. Except for the obvious avant garde of it all.

“I don’t wanna smile. Smiling is supposed to be happy.” You bit back, your brows pulled together in a deep frown. For the thousandth time that hour, one of your stylists pressed a thumb between your brows, making you stop frowning and smoothing out the wrinkle. You sighed, they cared too damn much about creased makeup.

“Okay, I know. I know.” Claire nodded, doing damage control, hands held up in a calming manner. She stood, walking over and wordlessly shooing away the team. They all took a step back.

“It not fun, I know. But, act happy. You need sponsors. You need all the help you can get. These kids, they’re vicious this year. I need you to try.” Claire said, voice taking on a softer tone. So, it was dawning on her.

In less than twelve hours, you would be in an arena full of twenty three blood thirsty kids. All out to kill you and take the Victor’s Crown. All merciless. You’d be dropped into God knows what kind of place, filled with horrors you couldn’t even imagine. And it seemed Claire was finally realizing it.

“Just… smile. Be your witty self and fucking dazzle ‘em. Chris and I believe in you.” She smiled softly, her eyes tracking over your face. Her hand came up to cup your cheek. Claire, your ever-mothering Mentor. Your older sister for all intents and purposes. She loved you. And you loved her.

“Dazzle ‘em.” You nodded, smiling at her. You were quick to hug her, arms wrapping around her shoulders and her head tucked under your chin due to the height difference of your shoes and the platform you stood on.

For her, you’d try and dazzle them. Make them love you. Get sponsors. You’d survive. And you’d play your game right. You’d make sure the one who deserved to win would. At any cost.

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taglist! @zamorazz ; @irenic-0kk (want to be added? just ask!)

[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

[esmestarz]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ INTRO ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

about me ─ ★

she/her

infp

bisexual

i can play on the electric guitar and piano !!

i used to do ballet but now i do belly dancing

i love listening to music esp rap, metal (any type tbfr) and rock, my fav animal is a cat and I'm pretty sure that's it

stuff ─ ★

if you want me to write for a character that isn't on the list feel free to ask me and I'll write for them if possible <3

i will write smut, fem reader, gn reader, platonic and romantic relationships

i will not write rape, incest, gore, gang bang, male reader, gn reader, character x character, character x oc, poly relationships, specified race reader, trans reader since idk how to portray them

what and who i write for ─ 𐙚⋅˚₊‧

MOVIES ─ ★

black swan

- nina sayers

- lily

harry potter

- hermione granger

- harry potter

- draco malfoy

- luna lovegod

- ron weasley

- theodore nott

- tom riddle

scream

- tatum riley

- sidney prescott

- billy loomis

- stu marcher

- samantha carpenter

- tara carpenter

- amber freeman

- anika kayko

- ethan landry

- gale weathers

- jill roberts

- kirby reed

- chad meeks-martin

- mindy meeks-martin

SERIES ─ ★

pretty little liars

- emily fields

- alison dilaurentis

- hanna marin

- spencer hastings

outerbanks

- rafe cameron

- sarah cameron

- jj maybanks

- kiara carrera

- pope heyward

- john b routledge

the babysitters club

- sam thomas

- kristy thomas

- stacey mcgill

- claudia kishi

- dawn schafer

malcolm in the middle

- malcolm wilkerson

- reese wilkerson

- francis wilkerson

KDRAMA ─ ★

all of us are dead

- choi nam-ra

- lee su-hyeok

- lee cheong-san

- lee na-yeon

- nam on-jo

sweet home

- yoon ji-su

- lee eun-yoo

- cha hyun-soo

KPOP ─ ★

aespa

- karina

- winter

- ningning

- giselle

twice

- nayeon

- chaeyoung

- momo

- mina

- sana

- jihyo

- dahyun

- jeongyeon

- tzuyu

le sserafim

- sakura

- yunjin

- chaewon

- kazuha

- eunchae

gidle

- soyeon

- minnie

- shuhua

- miyeon

- yuqi

nmixx

- sullyoon

- lily

- kyujin

- haewon

- jiwoo

- bae

new jeans

- danielle

- haerin

- minji

- hyein

- hanni

GAMES ─ ★

the last of us

- ellie williams

fatal frame

- yuri kozukata

- rui kagamiya

cry of fear

- simon henriksson

resident evil

- leon s kennedy

- jill valentine

- ada wong

- claire redfield

- bela dimitrescu

genshin impact

- kinich

- xiao

- aether

- kazuha

- scaramouche

- cyno

- heizou

- thoma

honkai star rail

- argenti

- aventurine

- blade

- dan heng

- gepard

- sunday

ANIME ─ ★

jujutsu kaisen

- megumi fushiguro

- gojo satoru

- yuji itadori

- ryomen sukuna

- inumaki toge

- yuuta okkotsu

- choso kamo

[pasukiyo]

wizarding world characters;

— SEBASTIAN SALLOW

— TOM RIDDLE

— CEDRIC DIGGORY

— OMINIS GAUNT

— REMUS LUPIN

top gun characters;

— BRADLEY “ROOSTER” BRADSHAW

stranger things characters;

— STEVE HARRINGTON

— EDDIE MUNSON

— STEDDIE X READER

star wars characters;

— DIN DJARIN

— KYLO REN/BEN SOLO

— ANAKIN SKYWALKER

pedro pascal characters;

— DIN DJARIN

— JAVIER PEÑA

— JOEL MILLER

— FRANKIE MORALES

marvel characters;

— TASM PETER PARKER

— STEVEN GRANT

— MARC SPECTOR

joe keery characters;

— STEVE HARRINGTON

— KURT KUNKLE

joseph quinn characters;

— EDDIE MUNSON

— ERIC (A QUIET PLACE)

robert pattinson characters;

— BRUCE WAYNE

— CEDRIC DIGGORY

tom holland characters;

— ARVIN RUSSELL

video game characters;

— JOEL MILLER

— LEON KENNEDY

fnaf characters;

— MIKE SCHMIDT

the hunger games characters;

— CORIOLANUS SNOW

glen powell characters;

— TYLER OWENS