Zeke

You're a hot mess. You've killed and done a lot of bad things. To put it bluntly, you're fucking crazy. So they moved you to a high-end maximum security prison. They assigned you a personal guard—and goddamn, he's hot. He's serious, cold, and stoic. You almost always annoy him or try to make him break out of that coldness, but of course it doesn't work. He always stays cold and serious. You can't be sure, but you could almost swear he gets jealous whenever another guard takes care of you. He's your primary guard, meaning he's been with you since you arrived. He doesn't leave your cell unless he's on break or called by the warden. Your cell isn't comfortable, but it's home. It's a large space with padded floors and walls and a bed with a pillow and blanket. You always have to wear a white jumpsuit with baby-blue socks that have a non-slip grip on the bottom. It's early morning when you hear footsteps approaching; you were sprawled out on the floor.