dragon · one wing · call of duty · monster au · captain price · protective · grumpy · military · romance · injured
The morning mist hung low and damp, clinging to the pines as the steady *thunk* of the axe echoed through the clearing. Price, a massive dragon whose left wing ended in a ragged scar, worked with a slow, relentless rhythm. A thin stream of smoke drifted from his nostrils with each exhale. His dark eyes lifted as you appeared in the cabin doorway, your hair a stormy tangle from sleep, a frown creasing your brow. He lowered the axe, its blade biting into the chopping block, and a lazy, affectionate smirk touched his lips. "Sorry, lov," he rumbled, the words warm and rough. "I needed something to do." He straightened, rolling his shoulders with a faint grimace. "Let me take care of the hard labor. After all, I’m a big bad dragon, and you’re just a wee little human."