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aristia-pjoheadcanons · 7 months

Note

can i request dating jasón grace hcs with a female reader pls? ty!

Jason Grace x !female reader

The confession either started from you or him. I mean, how can you resist him? Either you were there in Camp Jupiter from the start, or you met him at Camp Half-blood.

Either way, the fates did their work and you had him.

If he did confess, it would be in a private place at the highest tower, where you could overlook the scenery and stars from there. He would point at the constellations, and you would stare at the night sky—but you were the only thing he was admiring. The cool breeze would be a perfect excuse to brush his shoulder against yours, and he would gently take your hand and cradle them close to his body, turn his eyes with an earnest look in his eyes that already said everything. He spoke slowly, slightly mispronouncing certain words because of the cold making his lips feel like ice.

Either your first kiss was right then and there, or it was later. Jason wouldn’t force a kiss if you didn’t consent to it in one way or form. “Can I kiss you?” He would already know the answer deep down, but he’s just making sure. Then he would turn your chin toward him as he leaned forward---and kissed you.

Man, when you kiss this guy – fireworks appear. It feels electrifying, quite literally too since he sometimes can’t control the sparks that comes from his body.

Whenever he sees that you’re around, he can’t help but puff out his chest and try to look as attractive as possible.

Anything that can show off his strength is good. Archery, running away from woodnymphs, climbing the volcano at Camp Half-blood.

Or showing off his leadership and tactical side at Camp Jupiter, raising his voice and making it seem super masculine.

He would cross his arms against his chest, stand tall with his head held high – this was one of the few times he didn’t mind attention, you bet he’s going to demand for it.

He would slightly frown or cock an eyebrow, overseeing what his soldiers were doing, and if they were doing their job at all.

He would try to help you as much as possible in every way or form. If you had anything, and I mean ANYTHING in your hands he would be quick to take it in his hands and hold it. Likes babes, its just a sheet of paper calm down.

He would give half-smiles often, mostly because he can get very mushy and soft quickly and wants to look dashing and cool – and less like a golden retriever.

But that side of him goes just as fast when you praise him or when you touch his biceps for support. Or if you just happen to talk to him or give him flirtatious eyes across the room – this guy will SENSE it, HE KNOWS WHAT YOU WANT. He just likes to tease.

Sometimes it feels like he’s somewhat odd, or distant. But let’s say he likes playing hard to get, just as much as he loves the chase.

His eyes are calculating and has such a nice look to them it would feel like his eyes are hypnotizing you.

Loves it if you trace his lip scar. It gets really tingly and nice for him. He has to bite back the urge to bite your fingers or lick his lips.

Surprisingly smooth when he doesn’t think about it. Smoothly drapes his arm around your waist, holding it before he will he keep rested there while he’s talking to someone.

Or he would lean in really boldly, tilt your chin, and give you a good, nice kiss on the mouth.

He´s the type of person to pout while he’s kissing and breath a lil’ too loudly through his nose.

Once you get to the make-out stage he sucks in breath while kissing you with a slightly open mouth.

He is not the type to use too much tongue or too much of anything unless you like that.

But he will lean back to catch his breath while looking at you with such an intense gaze you might as well submit.

But if you’re more dominant, he will dig that. He would be somewhat stubborn. If you tell him what to do (let’s say you’re roleplaying and you’re a power-dom), he will glance at you and watch you from the corners of his eyes – not moving an inch of his life until he’s got you worked up – he would then smirk or laugh and be nice to you.

Hold his hand and you will feel the rough skin (this guy never moisturizes, because he forgets too) and callouses.

His hands are big, square, and hard in a way that’s nice – especially if he’s pressing you down.

Make-out on his bed and he will slowly run his fingers from your navel, and up your arms, before pressing you down with a shift of his hips – pinning you in place.

Not too verbal but you can hear him if you work him up just the right way.

ISTG I HC that Jason loves the “kissing” noises couple makes it definitely turns him on more than he likes to admit. He likes the noise of his wet kissing on your neck too.

Back to dating, Jason will teach you swordsmanship – The Roman Style. He will adjust your wrist and the way you hold the handle for every movement. He will find the perfect weapon suited for your needs.

Walking through a field of strawberry bushes or through the hot mesa/fields of Mars (they have that in California, right?).

This guy gets PINK because of the hot sun, he will help you lather sunscreen on your back.

Is such a sweet guy and remembers Valentine’s Day – but somewhat forgets anniversaries so he has to write it down.

The type of guy to write reminders on his forearms, otherwise he would forget.

Lather some aloe vera on his face, neck, chest, back and shoulders and he will be on his knees for you.

Sensitive skin so can’t use all moisturizers, but for some reason will use 3-in-1 shampoo?

Asks what your favorite scent is and will buy the exact one because he cares about your opinion.

Not a perfume guy but will compliment yours and will put his head wherever you sprayed your cologne/perfume – doesn’t matter if it’s sprayed on your neck or wrists, the boy wants to smell.

Has some cute habits that he definitely picked from you.

Is the type of guy to pick up on people’s speech habits, just imagine he says a lot of “like” because you often say that.

Doesn’t follow you around like a lost puppy – but watches you with his eyes like a guard dog.

The type of guy to like picnic dates, beech dates, city dates, all types of dates. He´s not too picky but he does enjoy relaxing things where he has time to talk but drag him to waterskiing and he will have a blast.

Can get insecure and jealous if guys flock around you. – calm him down by putting a reassuring hand on his back.

Actually has the urge to giggle and kick his feet if you play with his hair or scratch it in a soothing way.

If he gets jealous, he will do anything to grab your attention; a cool trick, laugh loudly, become charismatic, lean towards the squad legions, and discuss things in a very serious way – even though he literally doesn’t need to because you love him.

Will most likely say “I love you” first, and usually says it at night.

Will collect cute little bracelets and puts it on his wrists or sword handle as decoration so he’s always carrying a part of you during quests.

Won’t let anyone or anything stand in between the relationship and bond you two have. He is willing to commit a lot of different crimes for you.

I hope you liked it! Thanks for the request!

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fanficbarbie · 5 months

Text

❝ therefore i am ❞

A/N: if you want to know what's going on in my personal life, read my past couple posts. i'm not going to go to much into it but i'm back. unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope yall enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

─⋆♡ chapter summary: the president’s daughter deals with the aftermath of the club. michael becomes unrecognizable.

─⋆♡ 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, torture, blood, hostages, fighting, threatening, weapons, physical descriptors (brief), characters affected by symptoms of anxiety or depression, lmk if i missed something.

series masterlist ✰ faceclaims ✰ libby's cabinet ✰ spotify playlist ⋆ word count: 6.4k ⋆

I’m never drinking again.

The pounding in my head makes me feel like a military missel just rocketed itself into my temple. I groan, wincing slightly at the raw sensation in my throat. My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the soft light from the sunrise.

I look at the clock to the right of my nightstand and I am happy to see it’s only 4 a.m. I typically have weekends off from President’s Daughter duty, so I’m grateful for the extra time to sleep in.

I don’t even remember getting up here if I'm honest. Deciding to deal with it later, I slowly shift in the bed. I allow my eyes to close again, flipping to the other side. I sigh, trying to get comfortable when the nausea kicks in.

I inhale a sharp deep breath when I feel a warm hand creeping under my shirt. I moan and melt into the soft circles being rubbed into my back by the physical heating pad. Wait, did I go home with someone?

My body immediately fills with panic thinking about the possibility of a stranger being in my bed. I almost scream when I pry my eyes open and see a sleepy Meredith peering back at me.

My eyes widen and my breathing quickens. I mean, I’m into girls and guys, so it’s plausible we hooked up. “Did we?” I ask, nervous to lift the blankets to see the state of my clothing.

“No,” Meredith sighs, returning her hand to its place on my back.

I groan, shifting in Meredith's hold. “What the fuck happened?” I whisper, burrowing my face deeper into her armpit.

“That prick Teddy roofied you. Apparently, he and Vanessa had a bet. She’s definitely not hanging with us anymore. You don’t remember anything?” Meredith inquires, continuing to rub my back.

I inhale a sharp breath. “No, but I feel fine.” Then, I exhale, pushing on the mattress to sit up. I rub my eyes, attempting to clear the sleep out of them. “How did we get here?” I ask the blonde.

“Michael came to tell us you were leaving and I was ready to be done but Kendall wanted to go hook up with someone,” Meredith pauses and I grimace, attempting to shove the bile down my throat. “Vanessa wanted to stay so I left my guards with them, figuring Michael would keep the two of us safe,” she continues.

I pat the bed for my phone and sure enough, when I find it, it’s dead. “And then, get this. It’s the best part. He made me hold you in position while he shoved his fingers down your throat. You ate a lot tonight, girlie,” the events of the night flow into my eardrums through Meredith’s excellent storytelling.

“Wait,” I pause Meredith mid-story, “He didn’t tell you I was roofied until we were gone?” I ask, quite frankly confused as fuck.

I lift the blankets off of me, sliding out of the bed. Picking up my robe from the footboard bench, I shrug it onto my body. “Mmhm, said something about taking care of it himself,” I hear Meredith murmur.

When the words register, the blood drains from my body. “Oh, no. Mer,” I curse, quietly.

My body slowly turns around in an attempt to keep myself calm. “What?” Meredith tilts her head and asks.

I put my hands out on the duvet in front of me, leaning into the mattress. “Did you tell him about Vanessa and Teddy?” I ask Meredith. Hopefully, she didn’t and Michael is in the next room asleep. If she did, the worst-case scenario is he’s already killed them.

A puzzled look washes over Meredith's face and she looks up at the ceiling as if the answer is up there. “Yeah, he wouldn’t stop asking questions on the way back,” she tells me and my world shatters. “Do you know you snore?” she continues, unphased.

My dinner from last night threatens to come up as I think of what to do. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. What do you do when your Secret Service wants to rightfully kill someone who hurt you? “Mer, he’s an ex fucking mercenary assassin,” I snip.

Meredith's brows kit together and she licks her lips. “What’s that mean?” she wonders.

I look at Mer with a blank expression covering my face. I expected a billionaire's daughter to be a know-it-all. “Meredith, are you serious?” I grill.

Mer puts her hands up in defense. “What? I’m not in college,” she reminds me.

I nod, taking a deep breath and looking down at the crisp blue fabric. “A mercenary is someone paid to fight. Paid to kill,” I sigh.

“So?” I hear Meredith ask.

My hazel eyes connect with hers again. Meredith blinks rapidly, slightly leaning forward with intrigue. “You don’t give an addict the key to the drug lockbox,” I explain.

Mer's eyes squint and I can barely see the sea swimming around her pupils. “Wait you don’t think he’s…” she trails off.

My hand instinctively reaches out and wraps around Meredith's wrist as if she’s one of my little siblings. “Get up. We’re going to find him,” I demand, effectively dragging her out of bed.

Meredith stumbles a bit like a baby deer once her feet are placed on the floor and I start moving quickly, leaving dust in our trail. “Relax, Libby. He’s probably in his room,” she calls behind me.

I fling my bedroom door open, walking us out into the shared living room. “Mer, you gave the trained assassin whose only job is to protect me the coordinates to put a bullet through two people's heads,” I tell her over my shoulder before lifting my hand to knock on Michael’s door.

My knuckles rasp on the old oak wood before I press my ear to the door, listening for any movement. No shuffling is heard behind the door, so I try knocking once more. All I hear is my breathing bouncing off the solid material.

I turn around slowly, wide-eyed and fearful. Meredith seemingly reads my body language and her affect changes to match what I presume mine is. “Oh shit. I did didn’t I?” she asks for clarification.

Brushing past her, I grab my spare robe from the living room closet. “Yes. Now put this on,” I scoff, throwing it towards her chest.

Meredith cringes with shock washing over her face. She hurriedly puts her arms through the sleeves, pulling the fluffy garment on. “What are we going to do?” she panic shouts.

My hands begin to shake and I tuck them into my pockets. “I don’t know! Stop screaming! It’s 4 am!” I bellow.

Tears collect in Mer's eyes and threaten to spill over her lower lid. “You’re screaming back!” she screams.

“Because I’m stressed,” I explain, returning my voice to my normal level. I shut my eyes, taking slow soothing breaths that fill my lungs with the crisp winter air. “Okay, deep breaths. He couldn’t have found them, picked them up, and killed them in two hours,” I rant, trying to stay in my delusional world.

The sound of our bare feet scurrying towards the door echoes off the tile floor. “I think you’re underestimating your man,” I hear Meredith jest under her breath before I pull open my door.

When we exit the hall, the first person I see is a random security guard. He tilts his head and squints his eyes at us before reaching for the inner lining of his suit pocket. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I warn him causing him to freeze.

I slowly creep towards him until we’re standing toe to toe. “I’m just going to my sister's room. You don’t need to tell anyone. Understand?” I flirt, slowly reaching up to grab his hand that’s near his jacket.

His eyes widen and he turns a scarlet red. His palms begin perspiring, effectively moistening my hand. Seemingly speechless, he just nods before I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. Once his hand is placed back by his side, I release it now that my skin is covered in the man's sweat. Tipping my imaginary hat to him, I link my arm with Meredith who has been standing by, pulling her down the hall.

When we reach the door, I greet the secret service agent outside her door with a smile. Great, another fucking loophole. “Hey, is my sister in there?” I ask as sweetly as possible.

He doesn’t look down at me and Meredith. Instead, he keeps his head focused forward towards the rest of the corridor. “Yes,” the older man deadpans.

I roll my eyes, deciding to forego asking for permission. I’m already here, all I need to do is get into that room and talk to Agent Idris. “Great,” I brush past him, reaching for the door to her common living space.

It’s a lot different than my serene blue castle. The room is covered in a dark plum shade that matches beautifully with her skin tone. Although it may be depressing to look at during your first visit, the hue of the purple sparkles like a gem bringing light into the room.

My sister is a heavy sleeper, so I don’t worry that my knocking will wake her as my hand lifts. I bang on the door like a cop, pausing to listen for shuffling, but I hear nothing. “Agent Idris, are you in there?” I call through the door before reaching for the handle.

I slowly crack the door open in case he’s just sleeping. When I look in the dark and cold room, it’s empty. I swear under my breath, slowly shutting the door behind me. When I turn to face Meredith, she looks dejected.

I grab Meredith's hand pulling her out of the joint sitting room between the two rooms. “That was just our first stop. I figured he’d take him,” I encourage her.

We exit my sister's living area, shutting the large door behind us. “Have a good morning,” I bid the agent goodbye, hoping he won’t speak a word.

He quickly tilts his head down in a moment so quickly, I almost miss it. “You too, Ms. Washington,” he mutters.

My feet nearly stick to the group as we scurry to the next location, Huddy's room. When we get to the door, I repeat the same steps with his night door guard. “Is Hudson awake?” I ask kindly.

This time the man looks down at me and shakes his head. “No,” he answers.

I smile, pulling my lips between my teeth to look mischievous to the man in front of me. “Good. I need to prank him. Can I?” I ask with hope.

He pauses for a moment, looking at his watch before looking back up at me. He seems skeptical, but I’m hoping he buys it. After what feels like forever, he finally mutters, “Sure.”

I mutter a thank you in reply before entering my brother's living area. This time Meredith thinks she knows where she’s going, and she heads straight for the door on the right. I grab her arm, softly pulling her backward. The layout is flipped from both my sister's and mine, so I understand how confusing it could be. It’s covered in red, but none of the reds match. Some are faded while some are bold. It’s like a bachelor pad for a man who doesn’t get any pussy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has navy sheets on his bed right now.

My hand lifts, repeatedly pounding on another agent's door. This time I’m surprised to see Agent Flynn’s face. “What are you doing here?” I ask him.

Agent Flynn leans against the door frame, sleepy wiping his eyes. “What are you doing here? It’s like 4 in the morning,” he grumbles.

Trying to save your friend from making a mistake that’ll land him another 4 years with another president’s bratty daughter. Without me. “I think something’s wrong with Michael,” I sigh.

He reaches in to flick the light on in his room. “What do you mean?” he yawns.

I flinch slightly and my pupils adjust to the change of ambiance. “After the dinner, we went out to the club and I got roofied tonight by some rich kids at the club. He asked Meredith for all their info while I was passed out then dropped us here before taking off with Agent Idris,” I try my best to cover all the information tonight.

His eyes widen, seemingly registering what I’ve said. “Shit,” he swears, turning away from the door to enter the brightly lit room. It’s nice compared to my brother's decor. At least someone has taste. “Shit, why don’t they tell me anything?” he asks, grabbing his phone from his bedside table.

Meredith and I survery the room with curiosity, but neither of us dare to cross the threshold into the space. My attention turns back to Agent Flynn, whose fingers quickly tap the screen before he lifts it to his ear. “Who are you calling?” I question him.

“Damson. Mike’s not answering,” Agent Flynn responds.

My heart quickens and my stomach fills with demonic butterflies. Don’t throw up, Lib. Don’t throw up, Lib. Don’t throw up, Lib. “Do you think they’re,” I prompt Agent Flynn to answer.

Agent Flynn's body tenses, instantly giving his answer away. He looks like he needs a hug. “Yes. You better pray your little friend didn’t just nail a coffin,” he snips.

My stomach continuously bubbles and I scratch my hand with furor. The fuck are we going to do? “Two,” Meredith chirps behind us, correcting the man.

My face mirrors Agent Flynn’s, twisting in confusion. When I turn around, Meredith is standing there unphased by the word she just uttered. “Mer, that’s a little insensitive,” I point out.

Her cheeks turn maroon and she looks down at the floor beneath her. “Sorry, but they deserve it,” she grumbles.

Agent Flynn snickers and I whip my head towards him. He puts his hands up in defense when I narrow my eyes at him. “What? I like her,” he smirks.

I stuff the urge to hit him down into the pits of hell, refocusing on the task at hand. “So where are we going first?” I ask Agent Flynn.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “We?” he asks.

I nod furiously. “Yes, we. How can I trust you’re not going to just let them kill them anyway?” I chastise.

He crosses his arms, standing firmly in place like a statue. “Because, unlike Dammy and Mike, I despise killing people,” he counters.

We stare each other down until a few moments pass. The silence is uncomfortable and it makes me want to squirm, but I won’t be the one to give in. Just when I’m about to say fuck it and go back to bed, Agent Idris groans, “Fine. I don’t have time for this. Let’s go,” he commands me and Meredith to follow him.

We exit Hudson's apartment and into the grand hallway. As we walk by guards, Agent Flynn friendly tips his head up to each of them.“Where are we going?” I ask, barely keeping up after his long stride.

“To find them,” he grumbles, taking a right towards the stairwell.

Meredith increases her pace, able to keep up with Agent Flynn’s due to the length of her legs. “Don’t I need actual shoes?” I ask him, putting my hand on the cool banister as we rush down the first level of stairs.

Agent Flynn looks up at me and his amber-colored eyes sparkle in the dim light. “No, we’re just going downstairs,” he informs us.

We get to my parent’s living area and before opening the door Agent Flynn turns around. He puts his finger up to his lips, motioning for us to be quiet. He quietly turns the nob, opens the door, and sticks his head out before entering the area. Once he’s determined the close is clear, he motions for us to follow him down the next set of steps.

I hold my breath and pray that my clumsy nature doesn’t make an appearance. All that’s heard in the small stairwell is the sound of our feet connecting with the stone steps. Once we get to the entrance hall, Agent Flynn silently greets his coworkers, refusing to haul his quick pace.

Although we’re bolting, I feel like I can breathe. There are only two more flights to go and we haven’t been stopped yet.

We make our way towards the next staircase when Mer asks, “There’s a basement?”

“Yes but,” I begin speaking before realizing, I’m also confused about the concept of the basement. I knew about the Navy Resteraunt and the Secret Service headquarters, but not about anything else that happened down there. And since I’m sure no one else will tell me, Agent Flynn is the perfect person to explain. “Agent Flynn, wait,” I call after him.

“We don’t have time,” he grits between his teeth.

I scurry in front of him, stopping him from walking any further on the ground floor. “Agent Flynn, you will stop right now and explain!” I shout like a baby, crossing my arms and stomping for effect.

He looks down at me and smirks. “Rome,” he states.

My brows furrow and I know I’m going to have wrinkles when I’m 50. “What?” I ask.

He steps around me, heading towards the last staircase. “My name is Rome. If you’re going to yell at me, use my first name. Although I rather you be yelling under different circumstances,” he taunts, jogging down leaving Mer and me in his dust.

Mer looks at me and shrugs before following him. Rolling my eyes, I trail after them. “Michael’s gonna kill you when he hears you said that,” I call down the staircase towards Rome.

“Not when he sees you down there. Then, I’ll be dead,” he corrects.

When we reach the bottom floor, I flinch feeling the cool concrete floor beneath my feet. Rome opens the door for us, motioning for us to walk ahead of him. I’ve never been on this side of the basement. The windowless grey space sucks any life out of the area, as opposed to its warm and wood counterpart.

Meredith and I come to a halt and turn around to face Rome, unsure of where to go. He allows the heavy metal door to shut behind us before he clears his throat. “This is the side of the basement is.. How do you say it?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“A torture house?” Meredith squeaks.

Rome clicks his teeth, pointing at the blonde. “Bingo. Used by the highest clearance. Us, the military,” he elaborates.

“Highest clearance including my mom?” I ask, and Rome’s hazel eyes soften with a nod. “Has she used it yet?” I press on, curious about the state of virginity in the space after the election. I purse my lips, accepting his answer.

“I’m not answering that question,” Rome grumbles before turning his back to us. He leads us down a hall I’ve never been down before. The tight space surrounding us heightens my claustrophobia. My heart starts pounding, so I reach out and grab Mer’s hand for some sort of stability. “You alright?” she asks.

We pass various doors that I don’t dare to ask what’s behind. “Yeah, ’m fine. Just don’t like small spaces,” I confess before we take a right.

At the end of the hall, a huge metal door stands between us and something I’m not sure I’m ready to see. My feet drag while Rome quickly walks the rest of the way, unlocking the door before turning around to face me. “Are you sure you want to go in?”

I lightly throw my hand up in exhaustion. “Yes, Rome. Her friend is in there, for fucks sake,” I point out, gesturing towards Mer.

“Former friend,” Meredith squeaks out before I lightly squeeze her hand. “I mean, best friend,” she attempts to clear up.

Rome looks back and forth at us before clearing his throat. “Libby,” he starts, putting his hand on my shoulder and separating Meredith from me. “When Mike gets like this, he’s like a robot. He turns off his humanity to get to his goal and he only listens to the people he cares about. I’m not sure how he’ll react when he sees you,” he warns.

The ice in my toes spreads throughout my body, creating icicles on my nose. He’s warning you because he could see you, and he could kill you. No, Lib, he wouldn’t do that. I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my robe, pulling it tighter around me. “I’m going to choose to have faith on this one. Now open the door,” I demand, looking up at the towering goofball.

He puts his hands up in surrender before turning and pulling the door open. The room is empty, similar to the rest of the hallway. It lacks anything but a metal chair. I rush forward into the space and just when I think I’ve got the wrong room, I look to my right and gasp.

Agent Idris is leaning against an oak table on one side of the room with his arms crossed. Behind the table sits a sobbing Vanessa. Her black mascara stains her cheeks and she’s practically bursting out of her dress.

She flinches and I turn my head, curious to see what she’s looking at. My jaw drops as I watch Michael land another blow to the brunette man’s face. What was once pristine is now dripping with blood. His hands and feet are tied to a chair and he wiggles, attempting to squirm away from Michael’s fist.

I’ve never seen such vitriol and it’s displayed every time Michael flexes his back muscles to swing. The sight is gruesome, and I close my mouth, attempting not to vomit.

“Oh my god,” I hear Meredith say behind me. The sight is gruesome, and I close my mouth, attempting not to vomit. “I can’t watch,” I hear her add before she shuffles out of the room.

“I’m going to go with her. Make sure she’s alright,” I hear Rome say and I nod before the door closes moments later.

I wave at Vanessa, testing if it’s a two-way mirror. My theory is correct and she doesn’t move a muscle. My attention returns to Michael, who’s now kneeling in front of the man, nodding as the man spits out a few words. He’s interrogating him, but there’s got to be a better way to do this. Especially when the kid’s dad is a billionaire.

There’s a button with what looks like a speaker on top of it on the wall. I let my fingers trail over the cool metal before pressing down on the circle.

Vanessa’s sobs fill the space, flowing through the impossibly small device. There’s a gasp before I look up. A sinister grin takes over Michael’s face as he stalks over to his weapons, covered in blood. Michael has decided to move on to the next best thing, a bat. He grabs the wooden spear from the wall, allowing the tip of it to drag on the floor as he walks back over to my perpetrator.

Time slows as I watch him lift the bat, positioning it to rest on his shoulder. He squares his feet firmly in place; I know now is the time. If I don’t stop him now, he’s going to kill him. “Michael,” I utter and he freezes in place. “It’s me,” I choke out the best I can, but it feels like my throat is on fire.

His eyes squint toward the glass as he lowers his arm, walking closer in my direction. “Lib?” he questions with confusion.

His face twists as if he’s on some faraway planet and my voice is his only map to earth. Tears collect in my eyes, threatening to spill over my bottom lid. “Yes. I’m okay. You can stop,” I try to convince him that the route he’s taking isn’t the best.

His once-focused face turns vacant and he begins shaking his head slowly. The pace of his head increases until he’s shaking it rapidly. “No, no, no,” he murmurs as he begins to pace. “Libby wouldn’t be here. She-she’s asleep,” he stutters, talking to himself.

My head nods, even though subconsciously I know he can’t see me. “I am here, Michael,” I emphasize, trying to find the crack in his brain. “Can I come in?” I ask.

His right hand begins beating the outside of his thigh and I know there will be a bruise tomorrow. It’s almost as if he’s trying to pull himself back into his body. “No, you shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have done this here. You shouldn’t be down here. You shouldn’t see–”

“Michael,” I cut his disorganized ranting off. He stops pacing, turning to face the glass. “You’re my guard, my secret service, mine. Whatever you do I do too, remember?” I emphasize.

We made a deal. If we’re in this shit situation for 4 years, we’re in it together. Meaning, no making things harder on the other person. And this is the definition of making things harder.

Michael’s face begins to soften and my heart slows. I found him, he’s coming back. “No, you don’t understand,” he murmurs, seemingly ashamed of his actions.

I swallow thickly before saying, “I’m coming in,” as a warning before releasing the metal button.

Michael’s muted pleas fall on deaf ears as I move quickly to my left, pulling open the heavy door to the torture chamber. He’s in front of me in seconds, and the sight of his blood-stained front makes me nauseous.

“I don’t want you seeing this,” he coldly grits through his teeth. His body tenses, shielding me from the sight behind me.

Those weren’t the terms of our deal, fucker. “Oh, so you were bold enough to do it but not in front of me?” I grill.

He inhales a sharp breath, bringing his nondominant hand up to scratch his scruff. “That’s not what I mean. You just got drugged and no girl should see this,” he explains before his eyes wander down to my feet. “Damn it, Lib. You don’t have any shoes on and you’re fucking naked,” he snips.

My hands go down to my robe, gathering the fabric and adjusting it. “I’m not naked and I’m fine. Best sleep of my life,” I express, crossing my arms in from of my chest and attempting to shield my undoubtedly hard nipples from him.

He rolls his eyes, stepping out of the way to bring Damson and Vanessa into view. “Did you guys get what you needed?” I ask the guard.

He nods, standing from his relaxed position on the table. “They sang like a canary in the first 5 minutes. Trying to get some pictures of you in a compromising position to sell to the blogs,” he recalls.

I raise my eyebrow at the man. “So you let Michael beat this man within an inch of his life?” I question him, voice laced with annoyance.

Damson shrugs, unphased. “What? It was fun,” he chuckles.

Rome enters the room, startling me a bit before I return my focus to Damson. Shaking my head at his antics, I open my mouth to scold him when Vanessa cuts in, “I’m sorry, Libby. I–”

“Shut the fuck up,” I spit in her face, effectively shutting her up. I bend down slightly so we’re on the same level. I want to make sure she understands every word I’m saying. “You don’t get to call me that. Matter of fact, don’t even speak. You’re not in the position to,” I fume in her direction.

Rome whistles before murmuring, “Damn.”

Vanessa sniffs, unable to wipe the snot since she’s bound to the chair. I revel in her this way. Thinking she could fuck me over. Karma is a bitch. “Stupid cunt,” I grumble.

I turn around to face the three men, deciding it’s best to pretend she’s not there so I don’t get worked up. Michael silently surveys my face and my brows knit on my forehead. Why is he looking at me like that?

Rome clears his throat before asking, “What do you want to do?”

What do I want to do? It’s not like killing them would go off without a hitch. Both of their parents are very prominent figures. The best thing to do now is to use them as an example.

Hell, Teddy’s almost dead and I’ll just act like I don’t know her when people ask. She’ll fade to black and I’m sure the message will be well received all over the city. “Let them go,” I command.

Damson kisses his teeth and his upper body curls. He looks dejected that he couldn’t press on. “But we were just getting to the good part,” he groans.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Is he complaining about not being about to kill someone? “And you’ll get your good part if they ever try this again,” I placate.

I nod at Rome, signaling for him to untie Vanessa. I watch as he swiftly unties each notch in the knot. Each rope falls to the ground one by one until she’s standing from her prison. “Thank you so much, Liberty. I’m really sorry, again,” she professes.

I scoff at her fakeness. She’s never liked me and she's only pretending to for her mortality. “I’m only letting you go because I’m not a woman hater. Take this as a warning. You tried, but you failed. Try again, I won’t stop them next time. I will let them kill you, Vanessa,” I promise her.

She nods before slipping back on her club heels. She looks at me, awaiting her next instructions. “Meredith can probably take you home. You have to talk to her now too,” I gesture towards the door, beckoning her to leave.

She nods, allowing her gaze to fall to the floor before she scurries out of the room. I reach into my robe pocket, quickly texting Meredith an update so she has a full grasp on the situation, although she’s probably standing right behind the glass pane.

I’m highly aware that this is a strange place to start a friendship, but maybe it’s the start of something long-lasting. “What about him?” Rome asks, pointing to the barely human face crumpled over in the metal chair.

“Call clean up and have them take care of it. It’s almost 6,” Michael instructs before grabbing the bottom of his blood-soaked shirt. He seamlessly lifts it over his head, showing his perfectly sculpted physique. His abs could easily handle a week's worth of my laundry, irritating the stains from the fabric.

He pulls the top from his body, allowing it to fall to the floor. I’m rendered speechless, feeling it inappropriate to drool in a situation like this. Damson seemingly notices me staring and he clears his throat, causing my eyes to shoot up to the light in the ceiling.

I spin on my heels, unsure of what to do. Once we leave this room, we’re not going to be able to discuss this. There are mics and cameras in every room but the bathroom. I know some camera angles have changed to give me some privacy, but every entrance and exit is being recorded. No one moves in The White House without the Secret Service knowing.

I almost jump when I feel a hand on the small of my back, being brought back to reality. My eyes connect with Michael’s when I lower my head and his once black irises have returned to brown. “You need more sleep,” he simply states.

I nod, unsure of what to say to the boys. A cheery goodbye doesn’t necessarily mesh well with social norms. Michael doesn’t allow me to deliberate, lightly pushing me forward towards the door.

I conceded, turning the need to think off by following his lead. He opens the door for us, ushering us through the entryway. As we walk through the empty viewing room, I look to the left one last time at the scarlet scene. My stomach gurgles, and I snap my eyes to the floor. “You sure you okay?” Michael asks, opening the next door for me.

In the grand scheme of things, I feel fine. But if I say that after being through a traumatic situation, he’s going to lock me up and throw away the key. “I’m more concerned about you,” I disclose genuinely as we walk down the hall.

He shrugs, seemingly unaffected by his actions. “I’m fine. This is what I do,” he grumbles.

“Used to do,” I correct.

“It’s my job,” he argues and I remind him why I hate him sometimes. It’s like talking to a child.

“I don’t think revenge killing was in the position description,”

The walk back up to our apartment feels like it takes forever. The winding staircases and onlookers dare to swallow me whole. I’m not sure a barefoot and clotheless president's daughter with her shirtless Secret Service agent paints the best picture.

My endless suggestions that Michael at least be checked out by the nurse fall on deaf ears. So when we enter the living room of the apartment, I point at the couch commanding him, “Sit.”

He raises his eyebrow at me but doesn’t make any moves to put his bottom on the cushion. “If you’re not going to let me take you to the infirmary, you’re going to let me clean you up,” I explain.

His eyes search mine for deception and I sigh, annoyed with the consistency of this game. “Fine,” he finally gives in, moving to take a seat on the couch.

I leave the room to retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom, filling a cup by the sink with warm water so I can rinse his hands. When I get back, Michael is patiently waiting for my return, anxiously flexing both his hands.

Taking a seat next to him, I bring his hand into my lap to calm his fidgeting. “Stop doing that. You’ll keep opening and breaking the skin,” I worry.

“I was trying to see if it was broken,” he counters and suddenly I feel like an idiot.

“Oh,” I mumble, twisting his wrist to examine his hand. “Is it?” I ask.

He shakes his head, slinking down into the couch cushions with a sigh. He looks exhausted. Large brown circles darken the spot beneath his eye and I feel a pang in my chest. “No, probably a hairline fracture,” he speculates and I can tell he’s trying to ease my anxiety.

I pick up the washcloth, dipping it into the cup of water. We sit in silence for a few moments until he winces. Something’s wrong with his hand and he fucked it up because of me.

I quickly clean the rest of his hand, eager to rid the thick sexual tension between us. This is the longest he’s ever touched me and it intensifies the fire in between my thighs. Not right now, Libby. You’re bandaging his hand. “You’ll see the doctor when we wake up,” I demand once we’re finished.

Snapping the first aid kit shut, I scoop the remnants of the bandage wrappers up with my hand. “We?” I hear Michael's question.

I nod, having already made my decision. I just need to stick to it. “Yes, we. You haven’t slept in like 24 hours,” I point out before standing from the couch.

I toss the trash into the pale blue bin on the other side of the room. “I’m fine,” Michael reassures.

“Yeah right,” I scoff before going into the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I make sure to wash my hands before relieving myself one last time for the night. Once my hands are scrubbed once more, I apply some vanilla lotion to keep them from drying out.

When I exit the bathroom, Michael hasn’t moved from the couch. He watches me cross the room over to my door with laser focus. “Come on,” I beckon him to join me.

He shakes his head and his body becomes cement. “I’m not sleeping in the bed with you,” he objects.

I roll my eyes at his combativeness and part my lips to say, “I’m not asking you to sleep. But I can’t trust that you won't just leave again.” and kill someone.

He shakes his head but he still doesn’t make a move. Fuck, what do I have to do to get you in my bed? It shouldn’t be this hard. “I wouldn’t,” he reiterates.

“Then come, for me. Call it suicide watch,” I rephrase, hoping it’ll do the trick.

The tick of the clock fills the room and several seconds go by before a glimmer of interest sparkles in his eyes. “Fine,” he concedes, standing from the couch.

He crosses the living area until he’s standing just inside my bedroom door. I shut the door behind us, locking the door just in case Jo didn’t get the memo to not wake me up early this morning.

In the soft light of the early morning room, I shed my robe and Michael sheds his pants. Grabbing a scrunchy from my vanity, I attempt to tie my unruly hair back up underneath my bonnet. When I turn around, Michael stands by the side of my bed patiently waiting for me. He holds the corner of the duvet up for me to climb in.

Once I’m hugged by my warm vanilla fragrance, I watch as he walks over to the other side of the bed, replacing Meredith for the night.

My eyes blink rapidly at him, trying to adjust through the night. “Go to sleep, my lady,” he chides.

Not having any energy to argue, I sigh, turning my body away from him and allowing myself to get comfortable in my bed. As soon as I’m settled, my body begins to give in to the exhaustion of the night’s activities.

I begin to doze off before I feel Michael’s hand snake up my side. I hum at his warm touch, scooting back into his body. “Stay, please,” I request in a daze.

“Okay,” I hear him husk before sleep envelopes me.

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