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"Thank you for your answer. See, I had almost run over a dog-- puppy not too long ago, and I can't seem to find anybody to claim it. I suppose I can watch for the young beast myself." He smiled a bit, giving a gratuitous nod. "I'll do my best. Thank you, again."

"No problem. Always feel free to come to me if you got questions like that, or questions on anything really." Floyd wore the dumbest grin on his face, it only becoming more prominent when he let out a chuckle.

"I mean, what are buddies for? Now, you take care man."

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"Excuse me, Mr. Dawson. I hope I am not bothering you. Since you are a man of the law, and perhaps of some knowledge, I have a small question. I have found a small dog with no collar, and I have yet to find the owner. What do I do? Do I keep it for myself? Or do I keep asking around as to who the dog belongs to?"

"No collar? Keep it, they have a tendency at the pound to put 'em down real quick if they can't find the owner as fast as they want. That's just assuming you wouldn't want that to happen, which I'm guessing you don't. I didn't tell you any of that though." Cracking a conspiratorial smile, he jammed his hands into his pockets, finding it a small marvel The Motorcycle Boy had went to him for answers.

"And, on second thought, if you're willing to take care of a dog someone else didn't look out for, more power to you."

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Shelly Fabares - Johnny Angel

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Guilty by Association: [Open]

Floyd kept the keys in the ignition when he climbed out of his police car, pausing halfway out the door to turn on the radio, blasting the music as the man on-air wailed in the midst of a guitar solo. He was parked in front of a lake, one that was rarely occupied during a normal hour, so at midnight the whole area was as desolate as a graveyard. Work had been stressful lately, if that was even the word to describe it, more kids indulging in crimes he hadn’t even dreamed of at their age. He needed a way to unwind, to forget the next day would be filled with booking kids for petty crimes, and swimming seemed the easiest way to sooth his nerves. Of course, the only way he’d ever be able to peel off his clothes was in private, and in the dead of night on a Monday he assured himself he’d be alone. Without another thought he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, tossing it back into the window of his car with a flick of his wrist. In a few moments, he was stripped to his tighty-whities, his police uniform now a crumpled pile of fabric on the passenger’s seat. The night air was surprisingly warm against his skin, and when he stretched out his aching muscles, he couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips, after popping his back taking a few steps toward the lak. Stopping, hesitant, he glanced around the expanse of the undisturbed water, before hooking his fingers into the elastic of his undies. He dropped his skivvies, then threw them back through the still open window, a smile spreading across his lips as it landed on the pile of clothes and the music on the radio grew louder as it slipped further into a ballad. If he was alone, and this was meant as a way to finally relax, he was going to do whatever made him feel the most comfortable. And finally being able to show some skin and not have to worry about being a walking embarrassment, he was going to go as far as he wanted. Taking a step back, he ran towards the water, and in a mere moment he was flying towards the glass-like surface of the lake in a cannonball, it sending water splattering across the dirt and gravel on the bank. For a few seconds he felt complete bliss, one feeling he hadn’t had in years without it being met by a quota of cigarettes or coffee cups. Leaning his head back in the water, the grin across his lips seemed infallible, at least until he heard a noise he knew could only be man made and he had to stifle a scream.

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✿

13: hand kiss

"Everyone says you're like a prince, that's a real heavy title." Floyd cocked his head to the side as he stared at The Motorcycle Boy, watching him and not being able to help the smile that split across his lips. He was just a man, a smart one, but nothing like the god everyone thought he was. The officer just couldn't resist poking a little fun at the mythology of the man.

"I should be treating you like royalty."

Taking The Motorcycle Boy's hand and forcing himself to stifle a laugh, Floyd bowed, placing a gentle kiss to the man's knuckle like a valiant knight to some fair maiden in the pages of a fairy tale.

"Never in my life would I have thought I'd be in a prince's presence."

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✿

15: last kiss

His hands ran over his uniform again, straightening out the fabric the best he  could, his eyes slowly turning from the gleaming buttons of his shirt and back to the girl before him. Floyd flashed a smile that was all teeth, something inside him flickering like a light behind his eyes, making him resemble a freshly lit lamp. Today was a day that'd be filled with adventure, danger, and most importantly it was something he needed to do, even if it was born out of a tragedy he was unsure he'd ever recover from. He was glad that whatever was to come had started out with Sophie. Jamming his hands in his pockets, his grin expanded, and he felt grief pour out of him like he was a water balloon pricked with a needle.

"I'll see you later, duty calls." Laughter slipped under his breath, and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the girl's cheek before stepping away and turning on his heel. It was simple, but for some reason it meant more than most to him, and he couldn't believe a day like this had started out so good.

Too bad he was lying, even if he didn't know that yet. It only made sense, that a day that good, would only proceed to create events that would leave him unidentifiable and in a body bag. 

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send me a ✿ and i'll generate a number

1: aggressive kiss

2: all over kiss

3: back kiss

4: cheek kiss

5: eyelid kiss

6: fingers kiss

7: firm kiss

8: first kiss

9: forehead kiss

10: french kiss

11: gentle kiss

12: ghost kiss

13: hand kiss

14: jawline kiss

15: last kiss

16: neck kiss

17: rain kiss

18: stomach kiss

19: underwater kiss

20: upside down kiss

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Floyd had one incident when he first took on his job, before he had been given a gun,which led to him being shot several times. After arriving on the premise of a robbery, he had busted through the door, promptly to be met with the thug's pistol. As steady and soothing as he had kept his tone, the delinquent had finally decided he was going to pop lead in the cop to make him shut up, which sent our honey blonde hero barreling out of an open window. Running down the road, sprinting across pavement, he didn't manage to escape the hail of bullets that were aimed at his back, though luckily, our criminal had 20/60 vision. Long story short, he had three bullets pierce his skin, two in the back of his upper thigh spaced by mere inches, and the other landing in his left asscheek, which all left starburst-esque scars. After being made a laughing stock by the police department they finally gave him a gun.

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"I hate you."

A dry laugh escaped his lips, and he nodded, not really expecting Dallas to have anything else to say to him. A tight empty smile on his lips, he clapped his hand on the boy's shoulder, the gesture a horrible attempt at comfort.

"I'd hate me too, if I was you." Floyd had unloaded a hand full of bullets in the blonde's chest, he could never forget that nor how the kid's body had crumpled as easily as a paper doll underneath the artificial light from a flickering street lamp. He didn't deserve to be forgiven for that, especially when the gun Dallas had in hand that night wasn't even loaded.

"Even if you hate me, just try to stay out of trouble?"

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"I hate you."

Floyd cringed, the three words filling him like rotten milk. He didn't know why it bothered him, he barely knew the guy, but for one reason are another it simply made it sting more. Only for a moment did he allow his true emotions to bleed through his skin, hurt in his eyes disappearing just as easily as it had came. 

He grew serious, stern, and he pointed one finger directly at the other gentleman in an attempt to make his point get through his skull.

"I don't like you much either man, but you oughta' keep your punk ass out of trouble."

If being nice didn't help his point get across, he'd have to be a jerk. It didn't matter if these kids liked him anyways, as long as they all stayed alive he could get over it. Maybe if he acted like a man, an asshole, more often his point would get across.

"Just because you're  a god damn king in these parts doesn't mean I'll treat you any different when I have to throw you in the slammer."

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See how my character reacts if yours says "I hate you."

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He cries sometimes when nobody’s looking, like when he’s in the bathroom or behind a car, and that’s why I know his soul has gold in it.

Punkzilla (via citer-moi)

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Floyd hasn't had a girlfriend, or any romantic anything since he left high school. The only thing he's had is an all consuming crush on a local nurse, a beautiful brunette who he talks to often, and flirts with just as much. The feelings he has are absolutely requited, but he never gets the nerve to ask her out on a date, even after she drops numerous hints he fails to catch. He ends up dying at 24, six years into this not-so-platonic friendship, without ever saying a word of his feelings towards her. Luckily, she died before him by only a week, although her death is part of the reason he meets his early demise.

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"Aw man, you're hurting my feelings here." Floyd faked a pout, raising a hand and running it across his cheek, calloused finger tips gliding across skin splattered with freckles and covered in a thin stubble that reminded him that all his hours at the office were consuming. He needed to shave, he needed more sleep, and even if Dallas had been joking he might've been right. The realization was quickly brushed off though, and he chuckled as he took another puff of his cigarette.

Staring at Dallas as he went on about the troubled lives of his various imaginary children, his lips twitched in amusement, and he nodded to himself before he dropped his cigarette and crushed it underfoot. If some poor women had given birth to the blonde's offspring, he wouldn't doubt the boy would speak of them in the exact someway.

"Damn, I always knew you'd be a great father."

Even if he had nearly shot him to death, Dallas admitted that he liked the blonde cop a lot more than any of the other boys. At least he had a sense of humor and knew how to use it, plus, he smoked and wouldn’t rag on him for doing it either. The hood shrugged lightheartedly and grinned “Could’a fooled me. I think those long nights at the station are ruinin’ ya good looks." he teased in an uncharacteristically manner. 

"Well, sweeth’eart. One’s knocked up and poppin’ ‘em out like a Pez dispenser, the other is lucky ‘nuff to hang onto his gumballs and the last of ‘em is in the cooler."

A light chuckle left him as he explained what his imaginary offspring was doing, and Dallas was damn proud, if not thankful that it wasn’t actually reality.