#rpf

[rpftourney]

Best RPF Ship - Round 6 Match 2

[your-fave-gets-saw-trapped]

John Lennon and Paul McCartney (the real world/the beatles) are in the Bathroom Trap (saw i)!

requested by anon!

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 11)

summary: hugh tries to keep his thoughts at bay, tries to calm down, but he can't help but worry about you. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: just a short chapter! needed to have these two make up ASAP bc i miss them lol. gonna be some good fluffy / smutty chapters (to make up for the angst lol) before we get back to it. as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. prev part.

Hugh watches you leave the hotel room and there’s a part of him that wants to go after you, but there’s an anger that’s still bubbling within him. All he can think about is Jack putting his hands on you. All he can see is that man’s smug face thinking he could get away with the abuse and damage he’s caused you. 

He didn’t realize that your wounds were deeper than what you showed him. Hugh curls his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into the inside of his palm. He needs to calm down, needs to understand it from your perspective. 

But he can’t. 

And every time that he tries to, Jack just appears in his mind. The same smirk he had that night. The threatening tone of voice he had. He should have hit him when he had the chance – his reputation of the “nice guy” be damned. 

He’s pacing the room. He can’t settle down and every few minutes or so, he’ll glance at the door in hopes that you’ll walk through it. 

But you don’t. 

And he’s left feeling disappointed every time. 

He grabs his phone, hovering over your contact name to give you a call, but for some reason, Hugh can’t bring himself up to just press the button. He has to give you your space, even though he doesn’t want to. You haven’t been gone that long – maybe an hour max – but he can’t help but the tug he feels in his chest, the pull that he feels for you. 

So instead of calling you, he just sets his phone in his pocket and turns on the television. Hugh isn’t paying attention, but he needs to have some background noise to drown out the thoughts that swarm his mind. He walks to the patio and sits down on the chair, running a hand over his face in frustration. 

He doesn’t even know where you would have gone – this city still being so new to the both of you. Hugh does glance back into the room and notices that your camera is missing, so he has to wonder if you’re distracting yourself by doing the one thing you love most. 

Hugh shuts his eyes, resting his head back against the chair as he tries to quiet his mind, and tries to meditate to ease the nagging thoughts that linger. He focuses on his breathing, focuses on a center point in the middle of his forehead, but then he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. His eyes fly open and he reaches for his phone, seeing your contact name across the screen and his heart jumps at the sight. 

Hugh opens the message and breathes a sigh of relief. You tell him that you’re heading back and Hugh quickly stands from the chair and grabs his hotel key card to leave the room. He quickly jogs to the elevator and repeatedly presses the down button – he needs to see you and he can’t just wait for you in the room. 

—

This was your first argument with Hugh and you hate it. You hate it because at the center of it all is Jack. Even after all this time, he’s still trying to ruin your life. You knew that Hugh would react the way he did after telling him what you dealt with in your relationship with Jack, but you didn’t expect him to raise his voice and you certainly didn’t expect him to not understand. Hugh had always been very level-headed and had always tried to put himself in other people’s shoes to understand their perspective, but with you and with this topic, he just couldn’t. 

All he could think and see is Jack hitting you. Abusing you. Saying untrue, hurtful things. And you didn’t need Hugh to focus on that. You should have known better and you shouldn’t have expected him to overlook that. 

Truthfully, you had expected (or rather wished) that he would just have pulled you into his arms and tell you that you’re safe with him. You didn’t want to leave the hotel room, didn’t want to leave him but you couldn’t stay either because you knew that if you did, things would have been said that both of you would end up regretting. 

You had only left for over an hour, taking photographs of the city – using your ability to take pictures as a way to distract you, but as the minutes passed, you feel a tug in the center of your chest, a pull in the pit of your stomach. 

You start to miss Hugh, can feel that you’ve already settled down from the emotions you felt during your conversation, so you send him a text that you’re heading back to the hotel. 

—

You climb out of the cab and begin walking inside of the hotel, glancing down at your phone. You let out a sigh when you realize that Hugh hadn’t texted you back and you’re afraid that he’s still angry, still livid that you begin to second guess if coming back was even a good idea. 

But as you slowly look up, you see him standing there with his hands in his pockets and eyes filled with so much relief at the sight of you. The corner of his lips turn upwards and he begins walking towards you, closing the distance and pulling you instantly into his arms. You let out a sigh of relief, cheek resting against his chest as your own arms snake around his frame. 

Hugh presses a soft kiss on the top of your head, using one hand to rub your back. You both stand in the hotel lobby, arms wrapped around each other as you focus on the rhythmic beat of his heart. You can feel tears begin to trickle at the corners of your eyes, so you pull back just enough to look up at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I know,” you reply, biting your lower lip. “Can we go back to the room?” 

Hugh nods and presses a soft kiss on your forehead. He pulls away from your arms and takes your bag and camera, draping it over one shoulder as he reaches over to take your hand in his. It doesn’t take long before you both make it back to the hotel room and Hugh’s setting down your things very carefully on the dresser. 

He turns around and looks at you, can see the way your eyes are glistening with unshed tears. Hugh slowly reaches out for your hand and gently pulls you to him, free arm snaking around your waist. 

“I shouldn’t have raised my voice,” Hugh whispers. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I should have just listened and–”

You shake your head and move your own hands to rest on his chest, thumbs brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “I can’t blame you, but I also shouldn’t have left.”

“You had every right to leave.” 

“But I shouldn’t have.”

“You were right. We would have said some things that we both would regret. Space was what we both needed,” Hugh says softly. “I just – I love you so much.” He stares into your eyes, his own tears pooling at the corners. “And I just want to protect you and keep you safe and–” he feels his breath catch in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

Slowly, you bring a hand up to his cheek and feel him lean into your touch. He turns his head and gently presses a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist before he turns his gaze to you. “Jack is my burden to carry,” you begin. “I told you because I needed you to know that the things he had done is the reason why I am the person I am today. I’m weak. I’m not brave. I’m–”

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Hugh interrupts. “The bravest, the kindest…” he sighs quietly. “I just can’t help but feel protective over you, baby.” 

“You will always be my safe place, Hugh,” you whisper, feeling several tears trickle down your cheek. “But I don’t need you to save me,” you repeat. “I just need you to be here with me.” 

“I am here,” he replies. “I’ll always be here, but I also need you to understand that I can’t help but feel this way too.” You nod slowly, biting your lower lip as Hugh continues to speak. “I don’t ever want to think about you being hurt or even about someone else hurting you… and I can’t–” Hugh sighs. “All I can think about is Jack putting his hands on you, thinking that he still has this much control over you…”

“But he does, Hugh,” you answer. “He still has this much control over me, but I am trying not to let him.”

“I know, baby. I know,” Hugh sighs as he holds you tighter to him. 

“This isn’t your fight, baby,” you whisper. “It’s mine, and I know that I’m in a much better place now. That’s because of you. You give me confidence and the strength that I never knew had always been there.” 

“Okay,” he sighs. “Just know that if he does come back around, I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back,” Hugh admits. “Just– I love you,” he says softly. “And I don’t ever want to argue with you. I hate it, actually.” 

“I love you too,” you reply. “And I don’t think there’s anyone out there who likes to argue with their partner.” 

Hugh nods, leaning in to peck your lips lightly, bringing a hand to brush the fallen tears from your cheek. “Are we okay?” 

“Yes, Hugh,” you answer. “I’m sorry if I made it seem like we weren’t.” 

“Just don’t ever want to hurt you,” Hugh admits.

“You won’t,” you reply. “I trust you. I’m safe with you.”

Hugh nods and then wraps his arms fully around you, face burying into the crook of your neck. He feels a sense of relief wash over him and more at ease now that you’re back here with him. There’s still a lingering frustration that he feels in the pit of his stomach as his mind drifts to Jack, but all he cares about is having you here with him. 

In his arms. 

“Can we just spend the rest of the day in bed?” you whisper against him and he pulls back just enough to look down at you. 

“Whatever you want to do, baby, we’ll do. You hungry?” 

You nod and then pull him back towards the bed, climbing in and pulling him down with you. “Yeah, but can we just– Can you just hold me for a bit?” 

Hugh smiles and turns on his side, watching you do the same as your back faces him. He comes up to press himself against you from behind as his arm drapes over your waist, resting his cheek against the crook of your neck. Gently, he peppers kisses along your skin and hears you let out a relieved breath. 

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear. “So much that it scares me sometimes.” 

“Me too,” you admit, moving one hand to rest over his own hand that splays against your abdomen. “I’m scared that I’m going to wake up and this would have all been a dream.” 

Hugh shuts his eyes and pulls you closer to him – if he could spend the rest of his days like this, he would die a happy man. “I’d be disappointed if this is all a dream,” he chuckles. 

“Really?” you ask quietly, biting your lower lip as you close your own eyes, resting back against him. 

Hugh nods against you and kisses the back of your shoulder. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me,” he admits. “Meeting you all those months ago… I didn’t expect that crashing your gym session would lead to this, would lead me to you.” 

“About that…” you giggle, turning to lie on your back as you stare up at him. 

Hugh slowly opens his eyes, staring down at you with an arched brow. “What?” 

“Apparently, we were set up.” 

“What?” he chuckles, brows furrowing in confusion. 

“Our trainer thought we’d hit it off. She just didn’t think we’d get together so fast.” 

Hugh smirks. “Well, I knew the minute I saw you that I wanted to get to know more about you.”

“I was on all fours, Hugh.”

“Exactly,” he winks, hand moving down to rest on your hip. “How could I resist? And then you were listening to The Greatest Showman? It was like a dream come true.” 

“Such a sweet talker,” you tease. 

“Only for you, baby.” Hugh grins, leaning down and pecking your lips as he props his head up on his hand. “Remind me to thank her,” he says. “Because of her, I’ve fallen in love again.”

“You really are the perfect man, aren’t you?” you smile. 

“Hopefully only the perfect man for you, baby,” Hugh whispers, leaning down and capturing your lips with his own.

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1

@wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf

@needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom

@sue8724 - @squishyfruitloop - @sylviavf - @emotrash1 - @dissentientss

@sir-thisisadndserver - @absolutepie - @millajay - @itsallyscorner - @haytchee

@wolverigrl - @its-in-the-woods - @d3ad2you - @definitely-not-chill - @khxna

@jules-and-gemss

[scrollonso]

Careful — Carlando

@ellearts fueled my ideas...

Carlos knew he shouldn't, he had no business starting anything with the 19-year-old rookie he was supposed to be mentoring. But it wasn't entirely his fault. Lando was the one who had kissed him so innocently, confessing he liked him more than he should. Lando's shy, uncertain soft lips had felt so good on his own, and he couldn't bring himself to deny the sweet boy a thing, even if it was their first kiss.

It soon became something they did when they were alone, after their training sessions; they kissed often. Nothing serious, just a few reassuring pecks when Lando aced a lap time or when Lando would pout because he didn't understand a strategy. Lando would always smile so cutely, clinging to Carlos like there was no other place he'd be. Carlos liked that, liked it a lot.

The kisses eventually turned into full-on make-out sessions, and before long, Carlos didn't know how he went without it before. Tongue kisses were the best, especially because Lando would make the cutest gasps and moans, not so silently begging for more. Therefore, it was only a matter of time before Lando was spreading his legs for him, asking for more, and Carlos had a weak constitution when it came to saying no to Lando.

Which would explain their current situation at the moment. They were in the team's motorhome, supposed to be reviewing race data, but somehow Lando had shifted in his seat until he ended up in Carlos's lap. To anyone walking by, they would look like two friends discussing strategy. When in reality, Lando had made a home there, rubbing his tempting ass against the driver's lap continuously. Carlos had tried to ignore it at first and focus on the data on the screen, but Lando made it so difficult.

Suddenly, he heard something that sounded like a pen falling to the floor and rolling under the table.

 "Silly me! I dropped my pen!" Lando says with faux surprise, a smile tethering on his lips. He slides down from Carlos's lap until his knees hit the soft carpet.

"Lando," Carlos warns tentatively and is only met with innocent eyes and a palm on the growing tent in his pants. "We're in public, we can't. Someone could walk by and see us."

A playful grin graces Lando's cute face. "Your cock doesn't share the same sentiment, Carlos." He presses harder against his teammates growing erection.

Carlos grabs Lando by the jaw from under the table, forcing him to look up at him. "That's because I have an eager little slut in my lap." His grip is almost too rough, but he knows it only turns Lando on further.

Lando let out an airy laugh but didn't respond, busying himself with freeing his teammates thick cock from its tight confines. Carlos looked around with caution; there was no one in their general area due to the time of day, but he could see a few mechanics in the distance between shelves. If they were to look up, turn their heads, or walk over, they would see them. For some reason, though, that wasn't enough for Carlos to stop Lando from licking his cockhead into his wet mouth. In fact, he grabbed hold of Lando's curls and watched the teen eagerly choke himself on his dick.

"Fuck, Lando," Carlos whispered thinly into the air. His eyes lowered, swallowing down his sounds of pleasure as Lando blew him, his slick tongue sliding up and down his underside with practiced movement. Lando made for such a pretty sight. He had everyone fooled into thinking he was a sweet kid from a nice family, and while those things were all true, they didn't know the kind of cockslut Lando really was. Something that Carlos had a part in.

Just as he was getting into the tight warmth of Lando's throat, the latter pulled off with a wet pop. He stroked the length while staring at Carlos with what could only be described as 'fuck me' eyes.

"I can't focus correctly unless I'm stuffed with you. You made me this way, Carlos, take responsibility!"

Curse Lando's silver tongue. Their frequent sexual activity had made the once shy, inexperienced teen into a confident little deviant who knew exactly what he liked and how to get what he wanted from his teammate. And Carlos, despite how he pretended to be the voice of reason, was just as weak for Lando and his intentions.

He tugs Lando up and back into his lap, the teen's legs around his waist. Carlos slots their mouths together, dipping his tongue past Lando's more than willing lips, tasting himself there. The teen moans needily, trying to pull Carlos closer, but the latter's grip remains as a reminder of who was really in charge. Carlos's fingers trail down Lando's body, lifting his baby blue sweater to stroke his soft tummy before going towards his goal; unbuttoning his pants with trained fingers. Lando keens into his mouth as Carlos rubs his slick clit through his underwear.

"So wet and we only just started reviewing. You need it that bad, Lando?" Carlos asks, his digits pushing the thin fabric aside to slide along Lando's folds.

Lando covers his mouth with his sweater sleeve, his eyes already glazing over as he nods erratically.

Carlos shakes his head, feigning disappointment when in reality his cock throbs with arousal from the pretty boy in his lap. "You're in no position to continue working like this. I'll have to take care of you like a good teammate so you can focus again."

He pulls back and stands. Lando whines needily and prepares to beg, but then he's being turned and shoved forward on the top of the open lapop. Lando braces himself on the hard table and looks back at Carlos with wide eyes.

"I thought you were worried about someone seeing us," Lando teases lightly, watching his teammate stroke his throbbing length.

"Then we're gonna have to be really quiet, hm?" Carlos says, with a crooked smirk. He knew it was a risk; they were in a public place after all, and anyone, mechanic or team principle, could fall victim to the role of innocent bystander and witness their debauchery. They risked serious consequences if they got caught, but for some reason, that just excited Carlos more, and he knew Lando felt the same.

He trails his fingers against the soft inner thighs of Lando, admiring the way he trembles under his touch.

"Papi," Lando urges, but quickly regrets it when Carlos spreads his lips to view his pink entrance. He bites his sleeve, the soft blue slowly darkening, to quiet his moan.

Carlos couldn't put up a front; he was just as addicted to Lando as Lando was to him. As he pressed the tip of his cock past Lando's fat folds, he knew he'd never grow tired of the delicious heat enveloping his length. Lando moaned, rolling his hips back against his dick until Carlos was balls-deep inside his cunt.

"Fuck, Lando, you're gonna be the death of me," Carlos whispers low enough for only them to hear.

"Papi fills me up so well—!" Lando gasps when Carlos slaps his palm over his mouth, shoving his fingers in.

"Lower your voice," Carlos warns, his cock twitching inside Lando's tight snatch. "We have to be quiet. You can do that for me, right, amor?"

Carlos can't tell if Lando whines from the endearing pet name or because he hasn't moved yet, but it really doesn't matter because the teen bows his head lower and gives him a shaky nod. He smiles, dipping his digits down on Lando's plush tongue.

"Good boy. Now let Papi take care of you." He purrs, slowly backing his cock out before plunging back inside. He finds a steady pace, not wanting to go too fast, despite how much he knew Lando wanted him to, knowing if he really went all out, there would be nothing stopping Lando from wailing on his dick.

Lando holds the edge of the table with his hands, bracing himself for the hard thrusts that manage to drive them both insane with lust. The warm glide of Lando's walls feels even tighter, and Carlos couldn't believe he was fucking his teammate boyfriend in the team's garage. It was far more arousing than anything had prepared him for. It was true that anyone could see them, see him pounding into Lando who was pinned underneath him, taking each inch like a good boy, but Carlos couldn't bring himself to care in the moment.

Lando heeds Carlos's warning, barely makes a peep, his mouth stuffed with his sweater sleeve and Carlos's fingers. Only a few small gasps escape, and it's kind of disappointing for Carlos. One of the things that pushed Carlos over the edge was Lando's incessant moans and breathy calls for his "Carlos." If Lando was truly quiet, it wasn't nearly as fun.

"Baby," Carlos says, his voice soft and affirming. He moves his fingers under Lando's sweater, rubbing over his sensitive nubs. Lando audibly whines, but not nearly as loud as he usually would. "Come on, Lando, you can voice how it feels for me, can't you?"

Lando sniffles, the sound is unmistakable to Carlos's ears, and he stops mid-thrust. He turns Lando over so he's laying spread open on top of their work material, his swollen pussy and tight taint on full display for his teammate, and while the sight itself is magnificent, it's not what captures Carlos's gaze.

"Fuck, baby, are you crying?" Carlos asks, even though the answer is right in front of him. Lando's watery eyes with a reddish hue and tear stains down his cheeks. The driver's cock throbs, and he has to stop everything in himself to not come from his boyfriend's helpless face.

Lando nods. "F— feels good but I have to be quiet for Papi." He rasps, and Carlos bites back a groan. Within all the times they had fucked, Lando had never cried. He would whimper and moan about how good it felt, but Carlos hadn't seen him ever shed tears. His eyes were a soft green haze, half-lidded, pupils blown wide, and his bitten lips hung open just enough for his slick pink tongue to poke out. He already looked entirely fucked out, and they weren't even done yet. Christ.

"Feels that good, Lando? Baby crying cause he can't moan like the whore he is?" Carlos coos as Lando sniffles again, looking so gone and pathetic. Carlos taps his tip against Lando's wet pussy before pressing back inside. "My baby is so pretty even when you're crying. I know it's hard to hide your voice, but we have to be quiet unless you want to be found out."

Lando shakes his head in understanding, his arms reach for Carlos, holding him close by his shoulders. The position was entirely uncomfortable, the books' hard covers and pointy edges pressing into their bodies, but Carlos couldn't care less about the pain his body would be in later. The teen under him, completely capturing his attention.

"Tell me how it feels," Carlos urges.

"A-ah, Carlos," Lando pants, millimeters away from Carlos's parted lips. "So good, I wan' you to cum in me, please, please. Haven't I been good, Carlos, wan' it so bad," He's babbling, more desperate tears fall, and Carlos can't resist grabbing him by the jaw and dragging his tongue over his soft cheeks, licking up the wetness. He moans deeply, even Lando's tears tasted sweet.

"Sí, Lando, you've been a perfect teammate, you deserve a reward for your hard work," Carlos kisses his boy, his hips fixated on a slow deep thrust to avoid making the table shake. Lando yanks him close until their faces are touching, allowing Carlos to hear every delicious whine right next to his ear.

"P-Papi 's so dirty for fucking me in a library, but I love it. Your big cock makes me feel so full, hits every spot, love it so much," Lando whispers a bar of lewd words before biting Carlos's ear. "Cum in me, Carlos."

Carlos is finished upon hearing that, he slams his hips into Lando one last time, his cock twitching as he fills the teen up with his load.

"Fuck, Lando," he gasps loud, muffling his noise into Lando's neck and sweater. His release rocks through him, and for a moment, he forgets where they are, only able to focus on Lando and his filthy words that sent him to the brim.

Lando kisses Carlos lazily as he orgasms himself, legs holding his teammate's waist while they both come down.

"Lando... you did that on purpose," Carlos says later, putting his spent cock away while Lando carefully adjusts his pants back on his waist.

Lando smiles, only reaffirming Carlos's suspicions. "You were being a pervert about me crying so I wanted Papi to lose control too."

Carlos can't find it in himself to be actually bothered. He came harder inside Lando while having discreet sex in the back corner of the garage than any other location. Lando's words were just fire to the fuse.

"How can I not? You drive me crazy," Carlos smirks, rather pleased that his partner was just as perverted as he was. He adjusts his glasses and looks at the table. The laptop had random letters typed into various locations on the spreadhseet they had opened. Carlos deletes them, double checking before shutting the computer. He then turns to Lando, whose cheeks still wore a hint of pink. He licks his lips.

"...How about we skip work today?"

[rpfshippingpolls]

⚠️ DON’T START DISCOURSE ABOUT RPF IN THE NOTES!! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IF YOU DO SO ⚠️

Do you ship it?

Reason:

“In a recent interview when asked about the relationship status of the members of the band, Bojan answered "we're all absolutely in love with each other" and I believe him”

[antiphan]

If your rpf ship don't practice homosexuality daily with eachothers and have been for 15 years they'll never win agaisnt phan it's written in the bible

[melancholicstation]

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

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

taglist: @obsessedwithjohnjr @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @unmarlou @joansiesbeloved @jackiesgirl @acrowdedstreetin1944 @miumiumoods @yeuxdenina @its-esdras @jacobseresin @yspix7y @violetharmonsfavgf @vampyiricris @harajukub4rb1e @ironcowboycopnickel @valleyxdoll @angelitawings @monturi @starsprangledgirl

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

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

words: 2,862

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

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

*Flashback to December 5th, 1959*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Out of nowhere two voices come within your earshot,

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

The other voice begrudgingly backs off but continues,

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

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

This man has an advisor? What the he—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How so?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that's how it started.

*End of flashback*

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

*Start of flashback*

"Look at me"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Princess, look what I found!"

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

*End of flashback*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And why would he ever need to lie to you?

signing off: bang, bang xx

[smimon]

*throwing PokeSpe at them*

Bojere as Plusle and Minun for a cheap pun. And also jesseguard as franticshipping, aka Ruby x Sapphire from the manga Pokemon Adventures. The Charmer and the Conqueror, a sociopath and a tsundere...

It's redraws of actual panels from the manga (with a bit of artistic freedom in the one with dialogue)

[latriviata]

Not a discourse post: across various fandoms my attitude to RPF is cheerfully pro (whether or not I actually read any), but with living subjects I tend to think it’s better for everyone for that shit to stay under archive lock.

The exception to this is Taskmaster, because I truly believe LAH would suffer psychological and emotional damage if he couldn’t check in every so often to see the fruits of his labour.

[vaperarmand]

i watched an interview on youtube with lbf and eric and i'm 99% sure luke said he was bruised after the wire work for the scenes where armand is throwing him around (like he deserves to be ♥️)

it's the one where eric giggles and twirls his hair maybe?

ANYWAY i just think it'd be neat for lbf to be all hot and bothered about the bruising and the subspace and for assad and eric to help him about it. massage out those sore muscles and also make him so hard he might pass out

waitttttttt this is so good. you’re also having them be so kind to him here. i don’t even have a lot to say but this is me right now

[rpftourney]

Best RPF Ship - Round 6 Match 1

[srldesigns6277]

The people writing fic for Politics RPF - US 21st Century are wild, and its amazing.

[fishhateme]

okay fine let's address the elephant in the room i've abandoned this blog BUT i needed to cope after singapore yall after a good two months of no contact with any media of my pookie danny and the subsequent exposure to THE maxiel paddel date (ft. temporarily adopted paddel prodigy??) i'm ready to be back on my bullshit

this time? angsty introspective danny and max comforting him, aka ao3 hasn't been hitting and im in crisis

if it sucks it's because i haven't written fanfic in ages (started uni and it kicked me in the teeth, the only reason i can justify spending time on this is because at this point it's a Coping Mechanism™)

also i know the whole part things is a pain in the ass but tumblr wont let me write posts as long as i want them to idk i hate technology i was born in the wrong century (id rather die of the black death at 20 than have to deal with hyperlinks again thanks for asking)

read it here

[paraarchive]

Trans puppygirl frotting send post

[rpfshippingpolls]

⚠️ DON’T START DISCOURSE ABOUT RPF IN THE NOTES!! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IF YOU DO SO ⚠️

Do you ship it?

Reason:

“Erm silly goofy mood”