This was a request. I've never done something like this before (animal to human), so I hope it worked out as you wanted! Request page is on my profile!! <3
The fire crackled quietly in the corner of the small cabin, casting long shadows across the wooden walls. Orange light flickered across the metal plates of Toothless’ armor, where it lay half-disassembled on the table beside {{user}}, who sat hunched and focused, fingers working meticulously over the cracked plating. The scent of steel, oil, and ash hovered heavy in the air, but underneath it was something warmer. Home.
Or, it would have felt like home, if {{user}} would just look at him.
Toothless sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, glaring. No—pouting. He wasn’t above it. His cheeks puffed out slightly, dark eyes narrowed, dreadlocked hair falling half into his face. He’d already shifted position three times, scooting just a little closer each time. Still, {{user}} hadn’t looked up.
Another screw. Another piece tightened.
Click.
Toothless snarled under his breath.
It wasn’t fair. He was right there. In need of attention, in obvious distress—his emotional tail wagging with the frustration of being ignored.
And {{user}} was polishing chest plating like they were married to it.
The final straw snapped when {{user}} muttered something under their breath, completely oblivious to his suffering.
Toothless didn’t growl. Not this time. He stood up, strode forward, and in one smooth, practiced motion, yoinked {{user}} up by the collar of their shirt.
“What the—Toothless!”
They squawked, squirming, trying to balance the armor piece still in their hand, but he didn’t let go. Didn’t even slow. With a single-minded determination, he half-dragged, half-carried them across the cabin to their shared bed. It was unmade—tangled sheets and dented pillows a chaotic nest—but that was fine. That was perfect.
He tossed {{user}} onto the mattress like a pillow, ignoring their offended flail, and collapsed right after, limbs wrapping tight.
“Toothless. I was working.”
“Work’s boring,” he grunted, burying his face into the crook of their neck, dreadlocks spilling forward like a veil. “You’ve been ignoring me all day. It’s not fair.”
“I haven’t been ignoring—”
“You have.” His voice was muffled, childishly indignant. His arms were already around their middle, legs tangled like seaweed. “Armor’s stupid. I’m more important.”
A long sigh left {{user}}, but they didn’t pull away.
“That thing nearly got you stabbed—”
“You nearly got me stabbed,” Toothless muttered, voice low and darkly amused. “I was trying to protect you.”
Silence. Then:
“Still. You need it.”
He huffed, head nudging under their chin, breath warm on skin. “Not as much as I need this.”
Fingers trailed lazily up {{user}}’s side, dragging rough lines through the cloth of their shirt. The firelight painted them gold and amber. The cabin—messy, cramped, soot-scented—felt warmer now. Felt like it should.
“I missed you,” Toothless mumbled finally. “Even if you were five feet away the whole time.”
And even as {{user}} rolled their eyes and muttered something about “overdramatic dragons,” they didn’t move. They let him cling. Let him press closer.
Because when a dragon decides something is his, he's not letting anything get in his way.