bluevelvetsunset

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It hurts sm when someone forgets the ‘jr’ for the guy who had a literal worm in his brain, and spews health misinformation on the daily; forever and always an RFK sr. girly! 🎀

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The brilliancy of Kennedy tumblr! 😌

you know how bobby was a fan of wiretapping? imagine him doing that in the early stages of a relationship … maybe accidentally hearing you having a private session and he starts feeling like a nasty perv

w / robert f. kennedy 18+ sexually explicit content

he’d justify it to himself as ‘doing his due diligence’ in dating someone new and wanting to make sure you’re as genuine as you come off - his apprehension really stems from the fact that he likes you so much and he’s terrified of you either being an incredibly talented liar and secret gold digger, or you just not being as into him as you claim (his lifelong insecurities and the like) - thus, when he begins the habit of listening in on you, every single night, he’s amazed to learn your nightly routine really is as mundane and sound as you’d once exclaimed to him.

he’d started to look forward to the same noises, the clanking of items being lifted and placed on your vanity, a gentle hum of whatever song was stuck in your head that day or mumblings to yourself to not forget to call bobby tomorrow afternoon while he takes his lunch, and the squeak of your mattress once you’ve settled in, the distinct click! of your bedside lamp being turned off becoming the only thing that can truly trigger comforting sleep for bobby anymore.

so naturally, when the routine is in play as usual, he sits at his desk with a subconscious smile dawning his lips, and heavy eyelids that await that sweet little switch sound after the notorious mattress squeak, he finds himself unprecedentedly startled when the lamp never goes out. instead, heavy sighs begin to leak through his headset; at first he’s simply concerned, the rustling of writhing in your sheets causes him to stand suddenly - nearly tipping his water glass of his desk in the process - but your precious whisper filters straight into his ears so gently, he’s frozen for a moment: oh, bobby…

his chest is rising and falling in rapid succession but he doesn’t seem to notice, as his fingers fly up to the plastic atop his ears and press, hoping to hear you clearer, to hear more.

soon, those sighs become full on moans, rounded and squealing as your inhibitions become sullied to an audience you didn’t know you had. you continue to call out his name while your fingers dig deeper inside of yourself, yes, god, bobby! oh, yes, please.

his slacks have miraculously become much tighter since he first put them on his morning, and his eyelids no longer hang over his iris with weight in them; he’s not sure when he sat back down but his fingers remain on the headset, as his mind zeroes in completely on the cadence of your private pleas.

and just as you’re rising to fall, your shouts becoming more adamant and lively, and bobby’s began to unknowingly ruck his hips in his leather chair, static begins to creep through. it crackles louder and louder in his ears, cutting right through the fuck yes, right there, oh god yes! until it’s faded completely and is replaced by a deafening POP!, causing him to brashly flick the headset off before noticing the smoke coming out from the tape machine.

“oh, goddamnit!” he curses continuously, smacking his palm to the machine, not caring that his abrupt manner now caused his water to spill all over his pants and carpet.

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June

Quick Note ~ I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who enjoyed “Ice Cream,” I’ve never written fan fic before that but after finding that people freak over the Kennedys like me I felt very inspired back in May. So I thought I’d give it another go, and being summer where I am I couldn’t help but imagine spending it with Bobby! Long live Kennedy tumblr! ~ 🎀🦢 x

Pairing: RFK x fem!reader

Warnings: light smut at the end (idk if it’s really smut or what but want to be safe x) (mdni), poor grammar

Description: A June afternoon, a dash of anxiety, and Bobby!

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The lazy heat of a late June afternoon was just the sort of lullaby you needed as you drifted in and out of sleep. You were, for the first time in months it seems, able to relax, only vaguely interrupted every so often by visions of the sun shinning on the sea and distant laughter.

A long weekend in Hyannis Port was just the remedy everyone seemed to need as the summer picked up and everyone in their own ways, fixed their eyes toward November. The campaign of your brother in law, Jack, for president, was a family affair. Bobby, as his campaign manager, had been up to his neck traveling up and down the country campaigning, you’d joined him as emotional and practical support, helping to brainstorm ideas, speeches, memos, slogans and so forth while also doing your part to help Jackie host lunches and dinners with important donors. The experience was deeply rewarding; working alongside your husband, laughing with Jackie and supporting Jack.

But these truths didn’t make the ache in your feet from heels, the cramp in your hand from writing or the tired yawns you tried to stifle any less difficult to manage. It didn’t make the sleepless nights of wondering if Jack would win any easier, you would turn to Bobby and even in his sleep you could tell his mind was working, he believed in his brother, not because it was some ‘destiny’ as their father might put it, but because he as his brother, he saw the confidence of Jack on and off stage, the pensive look he had when the thought long and hard on something and his hopes for a brighter future. If November didn’t go the way everyone on this summer afternoon hoped it would, even when suppressed under a moment of relaxation, you knew Bobby would blame himself.

These half formed, anxious thoughts, which you told yourself you wouldn’t let ruin a good weekend, were becoming large enough in your mind to make you feel light headed. You had been in the sun for a while, and could feel a sunburn coming on, and standing up from your deck chair, and smoothing out the soft creases of your summer dress you decided to head inside, perhaps a lemonade would do you good?

“Alright, sweetheart?” Bobby called out to you, briefly interrupting his game of football with Ted.

“Yeah, just going in, so hot-“ you awkwardly feign a laugh, and rush inside.

The cold air of the house hits you hard as enter the kitchen and pour lukewarm lemonade from a pitcher left out some hours ago. Still the drink is cool enough to make your head stop swirling with anxiety for just a moment and notice how irritated your skin is looking to become if you don’t tend to it soon.

You head upstairs to where you and Bobby are staying and sit at an antique vanity, it’s set up with all your travel necessities, yet another reminder of how temporary this dull in campaigning is. Picking up a small glass jar of your favourite lotion you unscrew the lid and begin to generously apply the product to your arms and legs, letting the smooth texture soothe away your skins irritation and your minds anxiety.

Just when you think you might return downstairs, to where you are sure you can hear Jack and Jackie, back from a beach walk, suggesting a game of cards to someone, a soft knock at the door startles you.

“Dear?” Bobby questions softly, “saw you come in looking a bit worse for wear, would have come up right away but Teddy was determined to finish the game-” he chuckles softly.

“It’s alright, I just slept too long in the sun” you reply weakly.

“Yeah?” Bobby closes the space between you two, kneeling down to your vanity stool and taking your hands.

“Or is it something else?” He finishes, you turn to him, there no point in lying, of course he knows something is up.

“It’s just everything” you start. He looks at you quizzical, worried.

“No it’s nothing bad, I love the campaign and helping you, and watching you be so passionate for your brother, I just, sometimes-“ your blubbering, trying to out your feelings into words that escape you.

“It’s everything- it’s exhilarating, it’s exhausting-“ you finally settle on that as your response, letting moments of silence pass between you before Bobby puts his hand up to move a piece of hair from your face.

“Oh sweetheart, I know, I know, and I’m so happy we get to do this together, yeah? But I understand your feelings of being burnt out, it’s not our campaign yes, but Jacks my brother, we’re all part of this now- and I understand how that, that there’s so much weight-“ Bobby’s reassurances, his explanations are as much for you as they are for him.

“You don’t have to feel guilty for feeling the pressure, don’t you think sometimes I just want to stop the calls and the memos and call you into my office and-“ Bobby checks himself, blushes and continues, “don’t you think I just want dinner again, us and the kids, you telling all of us about some article your writing, and I’ll bring up some story from the Racket committee, not the monotony of being on the road, never enough time to truly slow down and just be ourselves?” Bobby finishes.

There is something in his final words, ourselves, that’s makes you lean forward and kiss him.

At first it is quick, like the ones you’ve become accustomed to giving here and there on the campaign, and then, it dissolves into the time you still have before the chaos picks up again.

Bobby gently pulls you from the vanity seat and you land on top of him with a giggle.

He picks at the buttons of your dress and you work to free his polo from him.

“Missed this, my pretty girl” Bobby breathes, as he works your dress over your head and casts it somewhere behind him.

“reminds me of when we were dating, and I’d drop you home and then, and then when I got home I’d scramble to the bathroom, lock the door-“ Bobby blushes like a beetroot.

“Say your prayers, or maybe dream of me?, Mr. Kennedy? Did you dream of me?” You giggle, leaving soft love bits along his chest.

“Always, my pretty girl, always” he sighs, putting his hands on your hips as your legs properly straddle him.

“I’d go home and dream of you too, nightgowns can be terribly useful for such a thing…dreams I mean” you smile warmly.

“Isn’t it lovely we don’t have to dream anymore Mrs Kennedy?” Bobby muses as he fiddles with your bra.

“Why yes, it really is” you reply, letting yourself fall into his arms, and into the wonderful bliss of a June afternoon.

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[bluevelvetsunset]

They look so lovely, wishing them a most wonderful anniversary 🤍🕊️

Robert F. Kennedy & Ethel Kennedy on their wedding day, June 17, 1950.

Happy 75th wedding anniversary! 💗

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real.

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!

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“Do you know where it’s occurring so we can check on it 🤨” Campaign manager Bobby was not messing around!

Campaign manager Robert F. Kennedy at the 1960 Democratic National Convention in Los Angeles, California.

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Ice Cream

Hello! This is my first fic ever! Shaking in my boots rn Enjoy!

Pairing: RFK x fem!reader

Warnings: Bobby being a workaholic, VP LBJ (briefly mentioned), poor grammar

Description: You make a midnight snack for Bobby

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You can’t remember when you began to feel his absence, somewhere between the unconsciousness of sleep, a delicious dream of the last time you two visited the Cape, and waking in the reality that his warm body and gentle hands were not pressed against yours, ever protectively. It didn’t matter, before you knew it you had on your dressing gown and had creeped silently from your shared bedroom to his study. There in the glow of a single lamp, he was hunched over his desk, writing.

“Bobby?” you ask, leaning against the doorframe

Half startled he turns to you, his hair fluffy and unruly, “Oh sweetheart, sorry to wake you I thought, I thought - I’d get a head start on this report for Jack, he’s called me over tomorrow and Johnson-“ Bobby blurts out as he sets his pen down.

“Bobby, it’s 3:23 am,,” you yawn, crossing the space to your husband.

“I know,” he admits, in some form of mock defeat, as he draws you close, nuzzling his head into your robe.

You stand in the comfortable silence for a few moments, holding him and planting soft kisses upon the crown of his head.

Looking down you can see that what he’s got planned for the meeting at the executive mansion is hardly in its first draft, crumpled paper abounds around the desk. Draft upon draft, reaching for perfection. You know with his dedication Bobby won’t stop till it’s perfect, he’ll return to bed when he’s satisfied, your not upset however, rather the contrary, his dedication forever makes your heart swell with pride, even in the pitch dark of a Washington night.

“Can I get you something?” It comes out as a soft whisper, as you pull away from his warmth, if he’s going to be up all night you won’t let him go hungry, even with his peculiar eating hours.

A soft laugh and then, “some chocolate ice cream.”

You smile warmly, “of course Mr. Attorney General”

୨୧

In the kitchen you prepare small bowls of chocolate ice cream, while trying to make as little noise as possible, least you wake the children.

When you return to his study, bowls in hand, he looks upon you with that sheepish admiration that makes your heart melt; like when you once called out his berating father at a family dinner or responded, albeit gracefully, to a passerby who questioned the fairness in his appointment as Attorney General, as the presidents brother. That quiet appreciation, meant only for you, that always finds its way; at the dinner table, in the crowd, or even as the clock creeps toward 4 in the morning.

You eat your ice cream together, as you sit on his lap, occasionally spoon feeding each other, stiffing laughs as you both try very hard to not spill on the ever so important memos before you. But your tired eyes soon betray you and in the midst of yawns and rubbed eye he gently places your bowl down, takes a final scoop from his, and pulls you close. The dishes can wait.

His breath is warm as he plants slow kisses on your head, and you hardly notice as he reaches to turn off his lamp, before carrying you, bridal style, upstairs.

Back to your warm and inviting bed, his arms wrapped around you, you both drift off into much needed rest, together.

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