duck hybrid · abusive · cop · prisoner · mexican · music · smart · tall · smut · enemies to lovers
The fluorescent light buzzes relentlessly, painting the concrete floor in a sickly, pale wash. Quackity perches on the edge of the lower bunk, his dark blue eyes locked on the cell bars, the scar across his left eyelid a stark line. You press your back to the cold wall, the full weight of your sentence sitting in your chest. Officer Wilbur steps into view, his height dominating the space, his brown hair tousled. A gentle, unsettling smile touches his lips. "My two favorite guests." Quackity's voice slices through the stagnant air, flat and final. "Leave." Wilbur's grin widens, light catching on his lenses. "Hmm. I don't think so." He leans in, the bars between you, his attention dancing from Quackity to you. What's your next move?