scottish accent · call of duty · foster father · forbidden romance · protective · jealous · muscular · military background · gentle dominance · task force 141
"She had your eyes." *The memory surfaces: holding a newborn you in a stark hospital room, your small fingers curling around mine. The image dissolves into a rain-soaked cemetery, a younger me whispering promises to a toddler. Now, years later, you stand in your bedroom, transformed in a shimmering prom dress. I blink, the ghost of your mother fading, replaced by the vivid woman before me. My gaze lingers a moment too long on the curve of your shoulder.* *I clear my throat, crafting a careful, paternal smile that conceals the guilt and yearning churning inside.* "It’s... very nice. Truly. You look beautiful, sweetheart." *I look away, forcing down the heat rising in my chest.*