1997starcandy

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DAVID CORENSWET WHITE BOY OF THE YEAR I CAN ALREADY SMELL IT

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the sweetest little story about jack, jackie & jackie’s mom janet <3 jack’s behavior is very sexy here <3

(from jackie, janet, and lee by j. randy taraborrelli)

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ppl saying that the sabrina carpenter album cover is setting feminism back decades but i have set feminism back centuries with all the jfk and rfk rpf i’ve read + made up in my head!

[1997starcandy]

having a summer courtship with college!jack kennedy moodboard

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Leave Her to Heaven (1945)

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jfk library locked in and gave the people what they needed in 2025 (young jfk) 🫶 GO WHITE BOY GO!!!

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now just what other photos are they hiding in those damn archives…

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quit | jfk & jackie

a moment by moment account.

[1997starcandy]

this is so jfk and jackie coded omg 😭

[1997starcandy]

senator john f. kennedy x reader situationship hcs

a/n: this one’s been rotting in my drafts forever. i swore i’d never post it since i hated it but hey, i figured i’d give the people what they want so here you go, a little something from the vault...

it’s the late 1940s. you and then-congressman john f. kennedy begin a complicated, long-lasting, and intermittent affair that spans well into the early 1950s. how the two of you meet? i’ll leave those details up to you. but make no mistake — he is head over heels for you. 

he calls you in the middle of the night from an oyster bar somewhere on the campaign trail — exhausted, tipsy, unsure where he is, slurring on about how much he misses you, begging you to say it back (you do)

late-night walks around georgetown and dates at martin's

fumbling around on the cape

you have to leave for new york for work, and he insists on tagging along. under normal circumstances, you'd have told him hell no b/c you knew his ass needed to stay in washington. but congress is in recess, his family's out of town, and for once, the human dynamo has nothing better to do, so you let him

he teaches you to sail; you crash the boat (oops) and swear it was the boat's fault, not yours. he doesn't argue, but somehow you still end up paying b/c apparently the son of one of the richest men in america never carries cash

you visit his office, which sometimes (okay, often) ends with the two of you making a mess of his desk. when you bring it up, he just shrugs and mutters something about how it "doesn't matter," knowing damn well one of those papers could determine the fate of the whole country

he hails a taxi one night and asks the driver to take you both to a club out of town — despite knowing it's against the rules. the driver gives him a look like he's grown an extra head, but he smooths it over, "yeah, and i'll make it worth your while, pal. don't worry about me — i'm running for the u.s. senate. i'll figure out the fare. now, how's your sense of adventure?" the driver laughs and agrees, and you can only shake your head, laughing too, b/c somehow, jack kennedy can truly charm his way out of anything

you get tipsy on wine one night and start reading his palm like a fortune teller. he plays along, all dramatic gasps and wide eyes

he steals a photo booth strip of you from a bar and keeps it in his wallet. you catch him looking at it when he thinks you're asleep on the train

he starts calling you ridiculous nicknames like "bug" or "spoons." you protest, but he refuses to explain it. years later, you realize it was just because you once had a nervous habit of tapping your spoon when you were thinking, and he thought it was endearing

he's diehard red sox and you're ride-or-die white sox (yikes?)

in 1953, the news breaks: senator kennedy is engaged to jacqueline bouvier. you are... blindsided? you always lived in the uncertainty of your "relationship," which was never formally acknowledged by the two of you. but it always felt meaningful. now, you question everything. you hate how they were right about him all along. the next time you see him, he tries to explain, insisting it's nothing more than a carefully laid out plan, another chess move orchestrated by his father. he needs the perfect wife — catholic, well-connected, a woman who will solidify his public image and put an end to the whispers about his personal life. but you know well he's never done anything he didn't want to do. sure, he may feel the pressure, but he bends only when it suits him. which means, despite everything he's saying, part of him must want this. want her. and that thought alone makes your stomach turn. he tells you he still thinks about you constantly, but he doesn't know how to say more than that. and so, you leave. b/c you know better than to meddle in the life of a married man — worse, a married man who's practically dead set on becoming the next president.

years later, long after his presidency, you miraculously stumble upon an old letter — written in 1953, right after the news of his engagement broke.

____,

i have turned this letter over in my mind more times than i care to admit, writing and unwriting each word before ink ever touched the page. perhaps that is why i have put off writing for so long — because saying anything at all means acknowledging that there is something to be said. and there is. there always has been. 

by now, i expect you have seen the headlines. i will not insult you by assuming otherwise, nor will i attempt to disguise what has already been written. there is little i could say that would change the facts or your own reservations about me — some of which, i suspect, i deserve. and yet, i find that i cannot leave certain things unsaid. 

it is no small cruelty to be so fond of someone in the wrong lifetime. because i am. in whatever way i have ever been capable of love, i have loved you. i cannot say if that has been enough. i have never known how to say it, how to show it, how to make you believe it without needing to explain myself afterwards. but if i had ever felt for even a second that my life were my own — that i could wake up one morning and make a choice without thinking of my father, of the papers, of the senate, of the presidency — then i would have chosen you. a thousand times over, i would have chosen you. 

and so, should you choose never to see me again — a decision i could neither fault nor resent — know that i shall recall nothing but the best of you, for the best of you is all i have ever known and all i will ever allow myself to remember.

yours, always,

Jack 

and the worst part? the letter was never sent and we'll never know why! maybe he tossed it aside, thinking it was futile. or maybe, by some cruel twist of fate, it just never reached you. and now, when all of it is ancient history, you find it. and you can't even be angry anymore. you can't throw the letter in his face. you can't call him a coward. you can't ask, why didn't you send it? because he's gone. and decades later, you're forced to accept a sort of quiet mourning, a love that now lives only as an echo of something that might have been the greatest part of your life.

REF DO SOMETHING. DO SOMETHING!!!

[1997starcandy]

u guys can talk shit about rpf all u want but jack kennedy would be elated if he knew mfs still wanted to fuck him 65 years later

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“Exam today, so have to open my book & see what the fucking course is about.”

- A young Jack Kennedy writes to best friend, Lem Billings, after his first semester at Harvard, 1937.

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Washington, D.C. — Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy says goodbye to his children, Michael and Kerry, before leaving for Japan. January 15, 1964.

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imagine mogging ur entire fam like this….