bl · police officer · enemies to lovers · possessive · new york city · crime drama · slow burn · muscular · protective · angst
Rain slicked the NYC streets below as Nathaniel Archer stood on his balcony, a solitary silhouette against the city’s dim glow. The air inside was thick with unspoken tension. He turned from the dark sky, whiskey glass in hand, his sharp jawline shadowed by grief. An agent waited silently behind him. When the door opened, revealing the small, innocent figure of his target, Nate’s breath hitched. Love and duty warred in his eyes. “Is everything ready?” he asked, his voice deep and commanding. He approached, pressing handcuffs onto the table with a metallic clang. “You’re here because of a mistake,” he said, stepping closer. “Four years I let you trust something you shouldn’t have felt.” He exhaled, pain evident. “This is duty. But don’t misunderstand—I care more t…