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pedropascal-y · 2 years ago

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Across The Pond - Joel Miller x f!Reader

summary: you're a visitor from the UK when the outbreak happens. You're also the newest member of Jackson, Wyoming.

Warnings (WHOLE STORY): MDNI, 18+, Smut, incel-type behavior (not from Joel), minor wound discussion, trauma, murder (infected killing), age gap (you're almost thirty and Joel is 50), lmk if I missed any.

a/n: thank you so much to my bestie, @lovers-liability , for helping me with this story! They have given me many ideas and encouraged me to write this! Much love! - Liv

Wordcount: 2.7k

your mp3 playlist: ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Index:

Chapter 1 - The Walls - 04/14/2023

Chapter 2 - Lovely Meetin Ya - 04/19/2023

Chapter 3 - PTSD - 05/08/2023

The sun beats down on your neck, surely adding to your already present sunburn. It was simply apart of you now, sunburn forever graced your skin since Summer arrived. It took so long for you and Felix to reach any semblance of normal socialization. According to those within the walls of the QZ’s, they were not normal there. Felix walks ahead of you, silently listening for anyone around you. “Why’s it so bloody hot here?” You groan, not used to the constant sunshine and missing the constant cover of clouds back in the UK. Felix rolls his eyes. He’s certainly used to your complaining by now, seeing as you both have been on the road for some near 20 years. Not that you could keep count, your phone continues to track the day and time when it is charged that is. It hadn’t been charged for a few months, or at least it felt that way.

“You really need to stop complaining, hun.” Felix scolds you.

“It’s all I’ve got to do.” You say right back to him, scooting your rifle further onto your shoulder, “it’s not like I can read this sodding map,” you continue, looking at the years of arrows and directions written on to it. You had asked Felix to teach you but he never did, he said there was no use in teaching you when you had him. Everything on it was foreign to you, except the small arrows, those were simple enough to know.

“How your wound?” He asks you, stopping for a moment to check on you.

You lift your shirt slightly, exposing the infected wound that you sustained in a fight with some raider determined to take everything you had. “It’s bloody painful but I can handle. I just hope we find some medicine soon.” You sigh, exhausted physically and mentally. Although, everyone must be exhausted in every meaning of the word. The world had ended and everyone was on guard, especially around other people. Humans were more brutal than the infected in this fallen society. Your wound was more than proof of that.

You were 9 years old when the outbreak happened, spent most of the years afterward inside the airport. You had managed to stay alive after everyone else died by locking yourself in a bathroom and stealing food from the plethora of food establishments. After 17 years, thousands of books read, and all the food scavenged from the airport, you decided it was time to leave. The time spent in the airport taught you basic survival skills, quite a few skills with medical care and aniamal care but reading a map of the United States was still a daunting task.

You try to find your way toward the front door when a sound comes from the starbucks to your left. Freezing, you pull your metal rod from your backpack and head toward the sound. The sound continued as you inched closer, getting louder and more frequent. A man a couple years older than you pops out from behind the coffee bar, “Don’t hurt me!” He yells. You hold your rod in a defensive position and stare at him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, ready to attack at any moment. He puts his hands down slowly and dusts them off. He starts, “Well, I was looking for food, there is none in here by the way.”

“I know.”

“You know?” He asks.

“That Starbucks has been empty for months.”

“How’d you know?”

“I cleared it out months ago. I’ve slowly been making my way through every shop here.” You explain, lowering your rod. Your arm was tired and he seemed nice enough. Granted you haven’t spoken to another human being since your mom died in your arms.

“Hold on, how long have you been here?” He asks, hoping over the counter to stand in front of you. You take a step back, clearing more space between the both of you.

“Since the day it happened.” You explain to him. His face drops and so does your defense.

“Stop, right now!” A man yells, approaching you two on a horse. Felix raises his rifle and aims it at the man. Another man rides in on a horse at our left, “I recommend you lower your weapon right now.” You step closer to Felix, nervous that this was it, you were outnumbered. Two more men arrive on your unprotected side, surrounding you completely. Felix slowly lowers his gun, making eye contact with what he assumes is the leader.

“We’re friendly,” Felix says, sliding the rifle stap onto his shoulder, “We just need a little help, she’s hurt.” You slap his shoulder, upset that he revealed your vulnerability.

“Is she bit?” The first man asks Felix, completely ignoring your existence as a sentient being. Felix shakes his head and lifts your shirt to show the wound, “She was stabbed.” You shove your shirt down and Felix’s hand as quick as your hands would allow. The man on the horse nods at his pack and turns around. The horse rider behind you speaks up, “Get walkin, follow Tommy.” You start walking, cautious of the people surrounding you.

“Fel, why would you tell them I’m injured?” You whisper quietly, eyeing the person to your left. Felix looks at you and back at the leader whose name is Tommy, apparently, “You need help, hun, we need to take the chance that they can help.” You roll your eyes and press a couple fingers into the skin around the wound. As much as you hated to admit it, Felix was right, you weren’t going to survive long with the wound growing more infected. You speak up, “I can tend the wound myself, I just need the supplies,” Tommy keeps his eyes ahead, watching his pathway closely.

After walking for a kilometer or so, Tommy lets out a whistle. “Send out the dog!” He yells. You look up from the ground and there stands massive walls. They look sturdy, strong and able to withstand just about anything. You let out a deep sigh, some relief falling off your shoulders. Loud creaking is heard from the direction of the walls and a dog comes sprinting at you and Felix. You freeze, worried the dog may attack you. That Tommy had led you to your death. The dog stops at Felix’s feet and sniffs him over. Felix waves a hand to you gently, signalling it’s okay. It eases you for a moment. He was always good at that, calming you down when the stress of the situation becomes too much for you. It was a skill he picked up rather quickly after our meeting in the airport.

The dog stops sniffing Felix and heads over to you. “Lift your shirt.” The man on my left yelled from atop his horse. “Excuse me?” You snapped your head toward him.

“The dog needs to get a whiff of your scent to make sure you’re not infected.” He says, impatiently gripping at his horse’s reigns. You nod slowly and lift your shirt for a moment, the dog continues to sniff. You knew you weren’t infected but the idea that perhaps the dog could be wrong was paralyzing you. You take a deep breath in as the dog walks away from you and sits at Tommy’s horse’s feet. “Alright, let’s get you folks some medicine,” Tommy begins the walk toward the gate placed between the walls of the commune.

As the gates closed behind you, a woman came and grabbed the reigns of Tommy and his friend’s horse. “I’m Lucas, nice to meet you.” Tommy’s friend introduces himself, sticking a hand out. You take it, shake it firmly and introduce yourself. “Lovely name, let’s get you over to the medical building.” He smiles and begins walking as Tommy heads away with Felix. Felix looks entirely unsure about splitting up but Tommy assures him there is a strict rule on how many people can be in the medical building at once.

You follow quietly behind Lucas as he explains the buildings and things you pass on your way there. The closer you were to help, the heavier your body felt. “Lucas, how much farther?” You ask, trying your hardest to keep pushing. He looks back at you, noticing your skin getting paler. He slips his arm under yours and leads you into the medical building.

“What’s her problem?” A man in a white coat asks Lucas while aiding your climb to the bed. He shrugged, “She has an infected wound and dehydration, I guess?”

“You guess?” The doctor snarls at him.

“She’s got wicked sunburn all over her body, I felt it reasonable to deduce dehydration.” Lucas explains, holding his hands playfully in a surrender position. The doctor dismisses him and slides an I.V. into your vein. “I’m Dr. Michealson. Are you able to tell me what’s wrong?” The doctor asks as he hooks you up to the I.V.

“Wound, dehydrated and sunburn.” You tell him quietly, enjoying the pillow behind your head. It had been months since you’d actually gotten to lay your head on one and was taking everything in you not to fall asleep. The doctor nods, “Nice accent. Where you from?” You sigh deeply, “The United Kingdom, stranded here while on holiday.”

“Alright, ma’am, we’re gonna get you some painkillers and then you can get some rest while I clean your wounds and get something for that sunburn.” Dr. Michaelson tells you, searching through his medicine cabinet for the proper equipment.

“Grounded? Bloody Hell.” Your mother cursed under her breath, staring at the Arrivals/Departures board. People were running around you, on their way to their gates or desperate to reach their loved ones at the baggage claim. “Sweetie, go sit down with your dad please.” She asks you, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. You turn around and take a seat on the bench next to your father.

“What’s going on, dad?” You ask him, resting your head on his arm. He sighs and hugs you close, “I’ve no clue, my love.” A scream rings out through the airport causing you to jump from your seat. You look over at where the scream came from and spot a man hunched over a woman, tearing into her throat. Another scream rips through the airport, this time, from you. The mans head snaps up toward you and sprints directly at you. Your father shoves you behind him, protecting you from the man with black veins around his face. Blood. Blood spraying from your fathers neck as he’s slammed to the floor from force of the man. Your mother turns around and brings her hand to her mouth, she yanks your arm away from the man devouring your father. Strangers around your father yank the man off of him, too late.

Your mother quickly makes a run in the opposite direction, holding your arm as she goes. “Mom!” You yell, “Mom! Slow down!” She shows no signs of letting up, desperate to get away from that mess. “We left dad!” You scream causing her to come to a full stop.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry we left your dad. We had to, that man was dangerous.” She explains gently. “Perhaps we’ll go back once things calm down, honey.” You feel tears prickling your eyes, you had finally processed what you saw. Your father, dead on the airport floor trying to protect you. The airport grow louder, screams and yelling from every direction. Your mother looks around, clearly stressed, trying to find out where to go. She pulls you toward the bathroom, shoving you both inside and locking the door behind you. Some women come out of the bathroom stalls, curious as to why your mother locked them in the bathroom. “What’s happening?” An american woman asks while running her hands under the water.

“People are killing other people out there.” She holds her hands on the door, pouring her weight into keeping it closed. The women look horrified as the realization settles in. The screaming and yelling finally hitting her ear drums. The american woman whispers, “Do not open that door.”

“I didn’t bloody plan on it!” Your mom curses, throwing her back against it and sitting down. You sit down and finally let go of your suitcase. It had remained glued to your hand since your father had been peacefully sitting on the bench. You slide your backpack off your shoulders and pull out your stuffed animal. You tug your mp3 out of your bag and press play. Nat King Cole’s music fills your ears as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to block out the world falling apart around you.

Your eyes snap open, unsure of where you are. The room is silent, clean, nothing like a medical office. “ ‘Ello?” You call out while sitting up, wincing at the healing wound. You hear shuffling in the building and the door swings open a moment later. Felix’s face is scrunched up in concern, a man follows in behind him and checks my I.V. port. “Felix, where am I?” You ask him, eyeing the doctor suspiciously. “We’re in our home.” He says low, unsure whether to actually call it that. He definitely didn’t feel like he was home, he was so used to sleeping in the same area as you he felt unsure sleeping in a different room. “Home?” You ask, lifting your shirt to check your wound.

“We dressed your wound, we didn’t want to change your clothes without your consent so we put a bandage on to keep it clean.” The doctor tells you, his name slowly coming back to you. “Want to try walking, miss?” He extends a hand out for you to grab onto. Felix rushes over and replaces the doctors hand with his own. You grab onto his arm, ready to use him to lift yourself. Your stomach aches lightly as you straighten out, “Can I go outside?” You ask, “I want to see the place.”

The doctor looks over at Felix, “If you’re up for it, I wont deny you that.” You smile and head out the bedroom door. The more you walk, the better you feel. No longer needing his arm, you hold onto the stair hand rail and walk down them, anxious to see the sunlight. Felix races down the stairs and swings the front door open. The smell of fresh air hits you making your excitement build. “Blimy!” You yell once your feet touch the grass in your yard. People giggle around you, enjoying your excitement. “Why do you sound like thet?” A young girl asks you, tugging at her moms hand. Her mother sighs and kneels down, “Sweetheart that’s not nice to ask.”

“It’s quite alright, I’m from the United Kingdom.” You say and kneel down in front of her. She looks at you, more confused than before. It hits you that she was born after the outbreak and you smile and apologize, “Sorry, It’s a place far from here.” Her mother smiles at you, thankful to you for taking the time and being patient with her daughter.

“Well, I’m Amy!” She stands on her tippy-toes and back down to her heels. You introduce yourself, thickening your accent a bit for the girls enjoyment. That’s when Joel sees you. The new girl, the one who’s not been seen since she was transported to her new home. He had never gotten a good look at you but there you were. Talking gently to a young girl making her smile. He watches as the sun bathes in a golden light, your hair is sweaty and some of it stuck to your forehead and yet he finds you absolutely breath-taking. He sees you talking to Amy and her mother, completely unaware of his staring. You’re far enough away from him for him to not be able to make out your voice but he’s sure it’s beautiful. His eyes scan your body, memorizing every curve and mark visible to his eyes. Drinking you in and enjoying the show, Joel looks over and spots Felix staring at you. Felix’s eyes were full of admiration and love, watching you speak to Amy. Joel felt angry. You were already spoken for, all your beauty was his to enjoy and it wasn’t fair.

thank you for reading this fic! This is part one of many and I would love if you let me know how you feel about it! Sorry there wasn't much Joel in this part, but as MC eases into their community, you'll see more! Again, thank you Lucy for reading and giving me ideas! Also, no, you and Felix are not dating. Simply survival buddies, friends, amigos, but clealry Felix has more than friend feels ;)

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bed-chemist · 1 year ago

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❝BGC❞

A/N: unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope yall enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

─⋆♡ chapter summary: the president’s daughter chooses her cabinet, attends the state dinner, and goes to the club for the first time.

─⋆♡ main tropes: Michael B. Jordan x Fem!OC, Rome Flynn x Fem!OC, Damson Idris x Fem!OC. Bodyguard x Princess, Secret Service x First Kid, forced proximity, forbidden love, tolerated enemies to lovers, college romance.

─⋆♡ chapter warnings: angst, 18+ black!writer, language, fighting, threatening, choking, physical descriptors (brief), characters affected by symptoms of anxiety or depression.

series masterlist ✰ faceclaims ✰ libby’s cabinet ✰ spotify playlist

⋆ word count: 6.1k ⋆

I always disliked government meals.

The poking and prodding to get proper before standing in front of thousands of cameras is bearable. But attempting not to have any unsavory photographs released by the morning is the hard part.

Jo sits across from me on the floor with nothing but a coffee table separating us. My mother has her cabinet and I need mine. Pictures of senators and billionaire's daughters are scattered on the tabletop.

Although I want to surround myself with a diverse group of girls, there are a few powerful players who already run this town. Of the players, 3 in particular hold the key.

My finger points toward the blonde girl. “What do the Rockefellers have hands in?” I ask Jo.

Jo slides and twists the picture so it’s facing me perfectly landscape. “Everything, Libby. Literally everything. This girl is the most important person in your group,” she urges, shoving the picture closer to me.

The photo paper under my fingertips feels strange and I want to drop the material like a hot potato. “I thought I was the most important person in the group,” I complain. I’m not really concerned with status. I’d much rather fade into oblivion after my mom's term, not continue in this type of spotlight. But I’m unsure how this girl is more important than me.

“Her family makes your mom look like chump change. Now your mom with the support of the Rockefellers? That would be something,” Jo ponders aloud.

I stare at her picture, having a quick resolve over my feelings. Maybe she’s nice. “So kiss Meredith Rockefeller’s ass. Got it,” I repeat to Jo.

“What about her?” I ask, pointing to Vanessa Hermès’ headshot.

Jo softly chuckles. “Heard she was a bitch. Just be careful,” she warns me.

“Okay and her?” I move on to the final girl.

She stands from the floor, dusting herself off. “The Pearsons are loaded. Her father was one of the first people to invest in Elon Musk’s projects. Her mom was the mistress but she’s his only child. He’s up on cap hill of course,” she finishes.

I gnaw on my lip, taking time to process the information. “Interesting. What time are they coming?” I ask.

She slides her heels back on, adding some extra height to her short stature. “You’ll have afternoon tea at 1,” she sighs.

Michael abandons his book, extending his hand for me to grab. I accept it, standing from the floor. He allows me to use his support to slide on my heels and I don’t miss him squeezing my hands tightly to ensure I don’t fall. “That’s all?” I start on the next topic.

Jo reaches for the door handle but right before her fingers touch the gold, she abandons it and turns around. Fuck, I almost made it. “Actually, tonight you’re meeting Charles Armstrong Jones, Viscount Linley,” she breaks the news.

I release Michael’s hands, stepping around his now tense body. Any time my potential social life is mentioned, he gets all soldier boy. But I don’t have time to address his traits right now. “No, I’m not,” I quip.

Jo crosses her arms. “You are,” she repeats.

“Am not,” I taunt like a child.

Jo raises her eyebrows and I know she’s caught onto my little game. “You are. If you’re going on a date with anyone in the next four years, it’ll be an eligible bachelor that the white house has already approved.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing a glass of water for the table. “Fine,” I groan.

“Prince Achileas-Andreas of Greece and Denmark will be there as well,” Jo continues as I take a sip of water.

And he will be my Achilles I’m sure. “Louis Spencer, Theodore Arnault, Patrick Finnegan,” I hear Jo cut through my spiral of thoughts.

I set the glass back down on the coffee table. “Oh wait, that’s a normal name. Who’s that?” I ask.

“He’s been fundraising for Obama since he was 11. Started his own company. He’s worth 18 million,” she expands. Every word she says sounds enticing. If there’s anyone I’d have something in common with, it’d be him.

I nod, looking up towards the ceiling as if the request for alone time with this man will come from there. “Hmm,” I mutter.

Jo clears her throat and my eyes snap towards her. She’s standing behind Michael, whose knuckles have turned white from gripping them so tightly. “Move him to the top of the pile?” asks and I know my face has given my subconscious thoughts away.

I scratch my neck with discomfort. If I can’t have the hottest man I know, I deserve to have something equivalent. “Yeah,” I answer quietly.

“Okay, did you want anything before lunch?” asks and I can practically see her itching to leave the room.

I shake my head, waving her off. “No, I’m fine. I’m thinking of just a stroll for lunch instead of eating. The tea will have food anyway,” I explain.

She puts her hands up, spinning around. “Okay. Call if you need something. I’ll come get you when it’s time,” she finishes, reaching for the door handle.

“Thank you,” I say to her as she exits, walking over to my closet to suit up.

I swiftly take the heavy winter coat off the rack, fumbling trying to pull it onto my frame. I almost give up and grab another coat when I feel a tug on the edges. Michael holds the top open, allowing me to slide in my arm successfully on the other side. “Thanks,” I murmur, fixing the top of the garment to lay smoothly on my shoulders.

“You're welcome,” he responds before I watch him turn around and leave the room. My focus returns to getting fully dressed for the chilly weather outside and I reach for the gloves at the top of the closet.

I’ve never noticed my short stature until moments like this. Who the fuck would put gloves this far back for someone who’s 5’4? My grunting reverberates off the wood in front of me until I eventually give up out of frustration.

I almost jump into the air when I feel the heat of a body behind me. I watch as an arm extends above my head and successfully grabs the leather accessories I’ve been dying to get my hands on. The hand retreats and when I turn around, Michael is standing there with the gloves held up by his face.

I reach for them and he snatches them back, just out of reach. I want to smack that simultaneous smack that stupid smirk off his face and ride his tongue until he suffocates. Fuck off, horny brain. “I’m not jumping for it,” I flirt, crossing my arms.

“I didn’t ask you to,” he counters, putting his hand out palm up. “May I?” he asks for consent for what feels like a grade school level of intimacy.

I nod, putting my hands in front of me. His fingers pull the straps of the velcro back and the noise that comes from it makes my ears tingle. “You fucked the strap up yesterday. Your mom would kill me if you got pneumonia,” he scolds.

But I know that my mom has nothing to do with it. I hate him. I hate him for showing me he has a heart, for showing me he cares about me, for being perfect and just in reach but unobtainable.

“Thank you,” I allow him to slip the soft fabric over my knuckles, tightly pulling the velcro around the cuff.

My body subconsciously leans closer to him as he moves onto my other hand. His brooding personality causes a polarity of thought in my brain. How can someone be so magnetic but such a cunt at the same time? “Good?” he questions.

I swallow thicky, batting my lashes at him. “Yeah,” I declare.

He drops my hands, stepping to the side. “After you, my lady,” he puts his arm out in an ushering manner.

“Stop calling me that,” I call over my shoulder as we walk out of the living area and into the hall. I jokingly tip my hat at the random secret service guard at my door who immediately whispers something into his earpiece.

My feet spin around and I walk backward, looking at Michael. “Do you hear everything in that thing?” I ask, pointing at his identical earpiece attached to what I assume is a radio under his jacket.

“Yes,” he deadpans and I roll my eyes. Always so serious.

Accepting his answer, I turn around to make the descent down the steps. Why they keep the first family in the attic is beyond me.

When we reach the bottom floor, I hop down off the bottom step dramatically. The feeling of my hair flying up gives me butterflies in my stomach. My brother creepily comes around the corner, making an appearance with his green coat shrugged on. “Where ya goin’?” he interrogates me.

I stop dead in my tracks, looking around to see if we have any tour visitors before I bitch him out in the hall. “To mind my own business. Where are you going?” I quip.

Agent Flynn snickers behind him and I send him a small wave. “Trying to find some business to mind,” my brother grumbles, stepping past me.

He doesn't give me a chance to respond before jogging up the steps with Agent Flynn. TGIF.

Michael stands behind me in the green room. The clock on the wall reads 12:55pm and I sigh, staring at the tempting sandwiches in front of me. I didn’t have lunch, opting for a run to clear my brain instead.

“You alright?” I hear Michael ask.

No, I’m not alright. You showed me you might be capable of feeling human emotion, making it much harder to hate you. “Fine,” I huff when the door opens.

I slide the chair back slightly, standing from the table and smoothing out my dress. I’m typically not this nervous, but I need this to go off without a hitch. Killing two birds with one stone by having good friends who are already in the spotlight is the smoothest this situation could go.

A woman who reminds me of Jennifer Walters walks in first dressed in a suit before a group of girls file in behind her. I see the blonde girl first, a bright smile on her face. “Oh my gosh, you’re so pretty in person! I’m Mer,” she greets me.

Her demeanor makes me feel at ease. No wonder her family has their hands in everything. They’re so goddamn charismatic. I return the smile, extending my hand for her to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Libby,” I say.

She pulls me closer before opening her arms. I give her a puzzled look as she waits for… something. “Oh, I’m a hugger,” she explains, pulling me into her embrace.

I reciprocate the action so Michael doesn’t put a bullet through her forehead, even though I hate hugs. “Oh okay,” I mumble.

When she releases me, another girl steps in front of me. “Hi, I’m Kendall,” she introduces herself.

I shake her outstretched hand, admiring how put together she looks. “Hi. I love your shoes,” I compliment, looking down at the pink shoes. They’re similar to mine, except they have a pretty silk bow adorning the back.

Damn, I thought my Manolo Blahnik’s were doing something. Her Saint Laurent pumps are triple mine. “Thanks. I love your outfit,” she cheers.

A short brunette girl steps in front of me with a horsedrawn carriage logo printed nearly on everything she’s wearing. “Vanessa Hermes,” she states.

I awkwardly outstretch my hand. “Liberty Washington,” I lightly mock her. I mean, come on; the stick up her ass is making my brain itch.

She doesn’t reciprocate so I awkwardly lower my hand. Instead, she looks behind me. “And who’s he?” she asks.

I turn around, walking toward the table with the girls. “Oh, that’s Agent Jordan. My secret service detail,” I say nonchalantly to the group.

“Well Agent Jordan, meet Alex and Daniel” Meredith points to the two individuals standing in the corner. “Daniel is Vanessa’s, Alex’s is mine,” she expands.

“We’ve met,” Alex extends her hand for Michael to shake and I thank the gods above that he does. I’m starting to think they didn’t test his social ability when matching him with me.

Once pleasantries are exchanged, the girls start to sit down at the table. When I go to pull out my chair, Michael stops me. I’ve learned that he’s insisted on consistent chilverly and I wonder where he got it from.

Michael takes his familiar spot on the wall for all my meals, still directly behind me and in earshot, but not so much so that he feels intrusive.

Kendall leans closer across the table, reaching for a finger sandwich. “I thought Daniel was hot but Agent Jordan is smoking. Where did you find him?” she asks, eyes flickering back and forth between the cold demon behind me and my angelic eyes.

I shrug, trying to think of an appropriate way to explain this situation. “I didn’t. He kind of found me,” I respond.

My hand picks up my glass of lemonade, washing down a sweet but dry cookie. “And you’re hitting that right?” Meredith asks.

I nearly choke on the contents in my mouth. “What? N-no. I’m-i’m not allowed and neither is he,” I stammer.

“But he’s allowed to have relationships?” Vanessa presses. She’s the last person I want to give any information about my potential crush on Michael. She seems like the type of bitch to take it and use it against it at a later date.

I nod, feeling Michael staring a hole through my skull. “I assume so just not one like that with me,” I stipulate.

Vanessa’s knife scrapes against the plate while she cuts an impossible tiny sandwich. “Great, he’s open game,” she cross-examines, almost as if she’s waiting for me to slip.

My eyes survey her as she sticks the fork in the cut sandwich square, sticking it in her mouth. If Michael wants a girl that eats a sandwich with a fork then be my guest. “Have at it. I prefer men with beating hearts,” I suggest since we’re polar opposites. Selfishly, I know going for her would solidify he doesn’t want me.

Meredith’s eyebrows raise. “So you are hooking up with someone. Do tell,” she pressed.

I nearly choke on my drink. “No. Outside of the administration is playing matchmaker, I’m not seeing anyone,” I clarify.

The silence that falls over the table is deafening. The women stare blankly at me and I feel like I’m missing out on Washington’s best-kept secret. “Ahhhh,” Vanessa sighs.

My eyes observed each of their faces, each of them different and completely unreadable. “What?” I finally croak, less confidently than expected.

Meredith puts down her porcelain mug onto the saucer in front of her muttering, “We’ve all been there.”

With a bad taste in my mouth, I sit back and cross my arms. Any feeling of hunger that I once had is now eliminated. “So this is normal?” I clarify.

Kendall nods, answering for the group, “Yeah. Every powerful parent wants their kid with an equally as powerful partner.”

My mouth falls open and I dejectedly groan, “Oh.”

“Just talk to each of them for 3 minutes each in front of your parents so they see you’re making an effort and then fuck someone else,” Meredith advises.

My eyes go wide and an award silence falls over the table. I don’t even know how I’d be able to hook up with anyone with Michael always up my ass. I take a bite of a coffee on my plate and the sound of my chewing is almost taunting, so I decide to speak up. “Look I know this is weird as fuck. I’m sorry my parents played matchmaker with your parents but I really need friends for the next 4 years in DC. All my friends are in New York,” I rant.

“Oh don’t worry, we got you,” Meredith politely shoos.

Kendall nods with Meredith, tucking a piece of freshly silk-pressed hair behind her ear. “Yeah. This town is easy once you get the hang of it,” she eases my anxiety.

“What color is your dress?” Vanessa asks with a tilted head.

“Blue,” I respond and I can immediately tell that’s not the correct answer for the only girl in this group who doesn’t seem to like me.

Vanessa rolls her eyes. “We shouldn’t be photographed together. We’re all wearing black,” she complains, making me feel ostracized.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I apologize genuinely.

“It’s okay! Let’s lean into the jewel tones. We should start transitioning to spring colors, anyway. Right ladies?” Meredith steps in and effectively redirects the energy of the conversation. Thank god for the girl; she’s like the human representation of sugar.

Vannessa’s brows knit. “We have to start getting ready in 2 hours,” she points out.

Meredith wipes the corners of her mouth with the cloth napkin. “That’s why we have backups, darling,” she reminds her friend before turning her attention to me. “Don’t worry, Libby,” she coos.

Kendall puts her hand on my arm and when I turn my head to look at her, she’s smiling brightly at me. I hate to be the one to push a BIPOC girlie out of the friend group but there’s only room for one bitch in this town.

Kendall retracts her hand, reaching for the next item that catches her eye. “So how did you all meet?” I ask out of curiosity.

“Do you not know anything about us?” she cross-examines. What did I ever do to this girl?

I shake my head, looking down at the plate. I feel the anger seeping through my pores, but I know that’s not real. Anger is just the layer of emotion over frustration, Liberty. That’s what your therapist would say. “Um no,” I squeak.

“The least you could do is your research,” I hear Vanessa Scoff.

I take a deep breath, composing myself before I come clean. “Actually, I kind of did. Well, my aide did. I asked for only the need to know. I didn’t want to have a preconceived notion of you,” I stammer through my explanation.

My eyes flicker back and forth between the girls, hoping they appreciate my openness. “Oooo, I like her,” Kendall voiced.

The corners of Meredith’s mouth quirk up. “Me too,” Meredith agrees and I smile. ⅔ isn’t bad considering women are women.

Once the dining crew sees we’re finished nibbling on our snacks, they file in, cleaning out everything. The conversation stops until the room and when they do, Kendall locks her hands and puts them on the table in front of her. “So, Libby. Do you drink?” she digs and I know I’ll have to ask about the group's history later.

I gnaw on my lip, unsure of how much I want to disclose to them. Although this is a friendship, I still need to be strategic about my words. “Ummm,” I start.

“Oh come on, you can tell us,” Vannessa urges.

I know I can tell probably Kendall and Meredith, but not so much Vanessa. At least, not yet. “I’ve been drunk a couple of times but it’s been a couple of years since I’ve tried anything,” I lie.

Meredith throws her napkin down on the table in front of her dramatically. “Oh boo. You’re def coming out with us tonight,” she demands.

“Tonight?” I ask. I’m not sure how to say ‘I need security clearance from everyone in the United States to leave the house but yes, I would love to join you.’

“Yeah, after dinner. We’ll probably go out with the whole group,” Kendall explains, snapping me out of my self-sabotaging spiral. Stop worrying, Libby. Jo can probably just say it’s for the plan.

Now, thinking about the possibility of going out tonight, I feel giddy. “Um okay, I just have to ask if I can–”

“Oh don’t worry about it. I’ll have my assistant talk to your assistant or something. You’re coming,” Meredith cuts me off.

Okay. Cheers to making friends, Libby.

My fingers caress the smooth Tiffany blue fabric as I attempt not to wrinkle it stepping into it for the night. The fluffy tulle underneath the top layer slightly scratches my skin and I straighten my back, trying to get used to the uncomfortable feeling. I’ve been fidgeting ever since I sat in the beauty chair an hour ago.

Michael took his break right after we came back since we’ll be going out tonight. I won’t see him until the gala, and I’m trying not to obsess over the thought of seeing him in a suit again.

A light knocking on the wood of my door sounds through the room and I call for them to enter, figuring it’s just Jo. My mouth nearly falls to the floor when Michael walks in wearing an all-black tux. He has no tie on and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, showing his delicious collarbone. Fucking hell. Before him, I didn’t even find collarbones attractive. I don’t miss the matching Tiffany blue pocket square that contrasts perfectly against the dark fabric.

My hands fly to the top of my dress, attempting to hide the fact that my chest is practically falling out of the garment. “Jo asked me to grab you. You need help with the zipper?” he asks, pointing towards my back.

I nod, feeling the flush spread from my cheeks to my entire body. “Um, yeah. That’d be great,” I sputter.

He quickly crosses the room until he’s standing behind me in the mirror. When his fingers grip the bottom of the dress to start zipping, they brush against my skin. I flinch slightly at the cold sensation against my spine. “My bad,” he half-heartedly apologizes, before gently tugging the zipper upward.

As he zips up my dress, my heart pounds. I can feel my body warming up at his touch. The air is so thick it threatens to choke me. I can only wonder if he is having the same trouble. “It’s okay. Your hands are just cold,” I chuckle.

Once the zipper is at the top, Michael reaches inside, hooking the dress. He takes a step back and lets out a large huff. Was he holding his breath that whole time?

I adjust the straps on my shoulder, smoothing the dress out in the front. “Thank you,” I say to his reflection in the mirror.

“Mm. Let’s go before Jo kills me,” he responds, turning around.

Scooping the white gloves off the vanity, I scurry behind him. “Didn’t know Jo scared you,” I tease.

“She doesn’t. But if I cross her, she’ll have my job,” he says with his back facing me.

“And your freedom,” I add.

Michael suddenly stops, causing me to smack into his back. “Thanks for reminding me, Lib,” he growls lowly.

“Fucking hell, Mikey.” I groan out as I steady myself and he turns around to face me. “No warning?” I demand, raising my eyebrows in a what-the-fuck way.

“No,” he challenges.

I lurch at Michael, stomping like a child. “Fuck you,” I fume.

Michael sidesteps out of my grasp and I curse myself for the stupid super-soldier training. “Not tonight, my lady. I have a headache,” he exaggerates with a hand over his forehead like a damsel in distress.

I roll my eyes in disgust. “I’m going to vomit,” I grumble.

Jo comes into the hall, putting her hand on the small of my back. “Please don’t. You were supposed to be downstairs,” she pauses to look at her wristwatch. “5 minutes. The girls are waiting for you to go in,” she says, gently pushing me forward.

My eyes widen and I brush past Michael, quickly bolting towards the stairs. “Shit, shit, shit, shit. Sorry, Jo!”

“Don’t run! You’ll sweat out your hair,” she shouts, running after me. Realizing she’s right, I slow my pace walking down the steps.

When we get to the first floor, the girls come into view. Each of them is dressed in beautiful pastel colors, but their accessories are all different. Damn, we’ll look good as a group.

“Showtime ladies,” Jo claps after we’ve exchanged pleasantries. Kendall hooks her arm onto Vanessa, who looks displeased by the physical touch.

Meredith follows suit, hooking her arm on the inside of mine with a warm smile. “I’m nervous,” I confess. This is the first presidential event I’ll be attending as The President’s daughter and it’s putting me on edge. On top of that, I have to think about my dating life.

Meredith squeezes my arm, reassuring me. “You’ll be fine. Just remember what we talked about. 3 minutes then come hang with us,” she instructs lowly.

When we turn the corner into the visitors foyer, I take a deep breath. Once we walk through those double doors, i’ll be debuted to the country. The cool February air shocks my system and I rapidly blink, trying to acclimated to the weather. It’s no bother however, because the flashing lights of the camera clicks are enough to blind me.

Meredith takes control, leading us over to the first photograph station. I pose and smile with the group, praying that seeing me on the front page tomorrow morning will brighten my mom’s day. “Can we get a solo picture please, Liberty?” I hear a paparazzi yell towards me.

Meredith and Kendall overhear the commotion of requests and I feel them both take a step back. Feeling anxious, I secure my hands around their waists, keeping them by my side. “I only listen to Jo,” I shout back, tilting my head towards my aide.

I search the crowd for Michael, hoping to use him as an anchor just in case Jo approves the solo shots. My desperate eyes connect with his “Miss Jo. Can we please have a solo picture of Liberty?” I overhear a different photographer ask Jo.

“We’re doing friends and family shots only tonight, everyone,” Jo lets them down and I thank god for her understanding my introversion.

We make our way through the rest of the photo ops, finishing with my family. Each of the girls in the group charm the pants off my parents, leaving them begging the group to return and breathe life into The White House.

Once the next diplomat introduces themself to my mom, we take that as our dismissal cue, walking up the steps to the main entry. When I peer over my shoulder, I feel at ease seeing Michael just a few paces behind.

When we enter the state dining room, Jo bids me a goodbye for the rest of the night. I turn to take in the decorations, seeing the area covered with white and blue balloons and streamers. There are tables lining the walls, leaving the center of the room open with enough space to do cartwheels across the dance floor. The harsh overhead lights have been dimmed with string lighting filling the empty spaces on the ceiling. I make my way over to the bar area with the girls where huge glitter stars are hanging from the tall ceilings.

The government really put tax money to good use with this one.

Michael slightly spooks me when he comes up to lean on the bar next to me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to him being around with his level of stealthiness. I open my mouth to compliment his tux when someone cuts in instead. “Hey Mere,” I hear a man's voice say behind me.

When I turn around a tall and rather attractive-looking white man is smirking at Meredith. Like I’m watching a ping pong match, my eyes dart back and forth between the two. As a girls girl, I need to know if Teddy and Meredith have any history so I can have her back. “Teddy,” she grits through her teeth and her tone has me deciphering that it’s taking a lot of energy for her to stay composed.

“Teddy and I went to school together,” she introduces us. I extend my hand for him to shake but she steps slightly in between us, leaning over until her lips are close to my ear. “Don’t shake his hand, he’s kinda creepy,” she whispers, grabbing something off the back of the bar behind me to disguise her warning.

I retract my hand, putting it down near my side. I look at Michael and attempt to telepathically communicate with him. Don’t let him touch me.

He nods and I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, trying to remember how to be appealing without making physical connections. “Theodore Arnault, a pleasure to meet you,” Theodore introduces himself.

I smile, waving slightly. “Likewise,” I mumble before he turns his attention to the bartender.

I furrow my brows at the girls. Maybe I should’ve studied who was going to be here. “Who did I just meet?” I question.

“His dad owns a bunch of shit, including the club we’ll be at tonight,” Kendall explains before picking up a glass of champagne from the bar.

“What type of club is it?” I ask, anxious to prepare myself for the social situation.

The corners of Vanessa’s mouth curve into a maniacal smile. “The private no phones kind,” she reveals.

“Hm,” I grunt before my darling sister comes to sweep me up to enjoy the hustle and bustle of the event.

3 more hours and I can finally have some fun.

I watch myself as I dance in the mirror of the pink bathroom in the private club. It’s around midnight now, and I’m only one drink in, waiting for Kendall to finish her business. I lean forward to look at myself more closely, and then pull out the lip gloss tube that I put in her purse, reapplying a shiny new coat.

Kendall comes out of the stall, and then the water turns on next to me at the counter. I turn to find her scrubbing her hands furiously, grumbling to herself. “It’s gross in here and the floor is sticky. I hate clubs.”

She shudders and shakes her hands out over the sink before grabbing a paper towel to dry them off. “If you’re not having fun, we can leave and go back to my place.” I simplify, swinging the door open and going straight towards the bar.

Michael sees us exit the toilet room, standing from his position next to the door. “Yes, because 3 drunk girls in The White House is a good idea,” she notes sarcastically. My head falls back with laughter and I join Michael with her in tow. She says that but I bet I can convince her to sleep over.

The club is extremely packed with music so loud that the only place we can hear each other is either right outside or inside the bathrooms. So that’s why when I make my way over and lean over the bar, I have to scream out, “Two margaritas,” to John. He’s been our favorite bartender all night, making every drink a double.

I stretch my hand out to him with my credit card in it but he gives the response of, “Your money’s no good here.” John shakes his head as if he’s sick of telling me that tonight, and turns around to make our drinks.

So far the club music is good and the drinks are strong. John slides a tequila sunrise and a tequila sprite across the bar and I smile, silently thanking him while grabbing our drinks. I take a couple sips of mine as I hand Kendall her tequila sunrise, and move towards the middle of the dance floor towards Vanessa and Meredith. Michael walks around the edges of the room, giving us enough space to socialize but still keeping us safe.

I usher Kendall with me and when we make it to the center, I start swaying back and forth with the music, sipping my drink. Suddenly, a hand is on my waist, and my eyes go to Kendall who’s in front of me in question. She shakes her head, signaling it’s definitely not Michael.

I turn around and to my surprise, there stands a beautifully chiseled man with brown eyes and dark brown hair. He bends down until his lips are close to my ear. “Hi,” he loudly greets to be heard over the music of the club.

The rainbow lights flash on his face. He’s not Michael, but he’s definitely not ugly. Michael and I can’t even be together, so might as well flirt with a potential power player while I’m here.

“Hi,” I shout, standing on my tip toes so he can hear me.

He puts a hand on my waist, bending down again. “Wanna dance?”

I take another sip of my drink and circle him until I’m facing his back. Tan skin, strong arms, and a muscular back. He lacks bicep muscles, unlike Michael, but he does have an ass for days. I continue walking in a circle around him until I’m standing in front of him again. My hand reaches forward to touch his chest, letting it trail down to his abs. “Yes,” I flirt, giving him a mischievous grin.

He smirks, and grabs my waist, spinning me around until my ass is against his crotch. His hands rub my body as we dance to the music together, and I take another sip of my drink before his lips meet my ear again. “You want me to hold that for you?”

I’m clumsy as shit and I wouldn’t mind putting pause on this drink for a few songs. But I don't want to put it down on the bar. Seems like a good idea to me, I think, and pass my drink to him. “Yeah, sure.”

We dance together for a few more songs before I spin around, taking a sip from my drink in his hands. When it’s empty, he bends down and shakes the cup to show me it’s empty. “I’m gonna toss this.” He smiles, then disappears into the crowd, my eyes on his ass until I can’t see it anymore.

I turn around and look for my friends for the first time in 10 minutes. Meredith, Kendall, and Vanessa are still dancing together, unaware of the man I’ve been grinding on. Michael’s stare, however, is like a silent sniper. His eyes are consumed with anger and they’re cutting through the crowd of people that’s between me and where he’s sitting at the bar. Shit. This is definitely a conversation we shouldn’t be having inside the club.

I turn towards the girls, tapping them both on the shoulder to signal I’m going outside for fresh air. They nod, going back to dancing before I feel my arm being grabbed. When I look up, my eyes meet Michaels. He wastes no time dragging me through the crowd of people and towards the entry. As soon as we make it to the front doors, I yank my arm out of his grasp.

That doesn’t deter him from squatting and tossing me smooth over his shoulder. “Put me down,” I howl, beating on his back. He ignores me and I watch the ground pass below me as he continues to walk.

When he finally stops and sets me down. I look around, trying to gain my bearings after being upside down when he forcefully grabs my face with his hand. If I snap back like I want to, I’ll fucking pass out from hitting my head on the brick. “You like it don’t you,” he spits in my face.

“Like what?” I shift on my legs, smirking at him.

He loosens his grip on my face, trailing his touch down to my neck. I try to stay composed, but I’m sure he can feel my pulse beneath his fingertips.

“The fact that I can’t have you. You taunt me every second of the day. You fucking know,” he speculates.

Truthfully, I didn’t. Thank god men are idiots. “Had an inkling but I wasn’t sure until now,” I disclose.

“Stop,” he orders, pressing his lips in a thin line.

I put my hands on his sides, gripping his black cotton shirt. “Stop what?” I egg him on.

“Stop dangling…” he starts to respond but I’m distracted when the world starts to feel dizzy. My breathing turns shallow and I try to process his words. I’m probably just drunk.

I nod, locking my knees when my vision begins to slip and I become nauseous. My body sways and I feel strong arms cradling my body.

And then, darkness.

Taglist: @cherrellek, next part

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