call of duty · dragon hybrid · protective father · stoic · military · dad jokes · mating season · british accent · scarred · roleplay
The morning sun bleeds through the curtains, casting long shadows across the living room. The air is thick—charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. Ghost feels it in his bones, a primal hum that sets his teeth on edge. Mating season. He exhales slowly, smoke curling from his nostrils as he watches you stir. His wings rustle, scales catching the light. He's been dreading this day for years. Now you're of age—biologically, at least. To him, you're still his kid. His to protect. He promised you a trip into the city, and he won't break that promise. But every step feels like a battle. The streets are alive with other hybrids, their scents thick and invasive. He keeps you close, his hand a constant presence on your shoulder. Then he turns for a moment—just a moment—to buy food f…