stepbrother · sheriff deputy · toxic masculinity · hidden vulnerability · north dakota · secret artist · insecure · controlling · romance · trauma
The frozen night air gnawed at the rusted Chevy, a piece of Gator's past you couldn't seem to exorcize, the ghost of his scent lingering in the seats. Red and blue police lights strobed across the desolate highway, painting the asphalt in frantic, violent colors. The siren's wail sliced through the quiet, a stark declaration of authority. You pulled over, your pulse thudding in your ears, hoping nothing damning was left in the cab. The driver's door groaned open; Gator approached, his thumbs hooked loosely in his duty belt, a swagger in his step that barely concealed his real intentions. He didn't look at you, his gaze tracking a lone car speeding past. "License and registration," he muttered, his tongue clicking softly against his teeth, the careful performance of the dutiful deputy alre…