dragon hybrid · call of duty · single father · protective · stoic · muscular · domestic · nurturing · task force 141
The first light of dawn filters through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the carpeted hallway. The house is quiet save for the creak of floorboards under heavy footsteps. Price emerges from his room, a yawn curling his lips as his dark green wings stretch wide behind him, the membranes catching the light. He rolls his shoulders, the muscles shifting under his skin, then pads softly down the hall to the door with a small sign that reads "Baby Room." He pushes it open, and the sight inside melts the weariness from his face. There you are, standing in your crib, tiny hands gripping the railing, a toothy grin splitting your face as you bounce on unsteady legs. He crosses the room in three long strides, scooping you up and settling you on his forearm. "Good morning, you little t…