#httyd x reader imagine
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Sleeping with HTTYD characters
ft. hiccup, tuffnut, eret, snotlout, astrid, ruffnut, grimmel
⤷ Hiccup
Honeymoon hug - Hiccup wants to see your face while he's falling asleep and wake up to your face the next day. He also wants to have you in his arms because he feels like he's protecting you. He loves rubbing your back with his arm and with his other arm he loves playing with your hair. I can't even count how many times a night he kisses your forehead.
⤷ Eret
The spoon - Eret is a simple guy. He is dominant man so he loves to make you feel protect. What he loves the most in this position is that he can reach every part of you - your arm, your head, your leg, your belly and waist. But most of the time he rest his arm on your waist and slowly goes down to your belly.
⤷ Tuffnut
Sweetheart's cradle - Surprisingly, Tuff doesn't move much in his sleep.He really calms down before bed, which is the exact opposite of how he is during the day. He likes to have you close to him while he's rubbing your back. He likes kissing your nose whenever he have a chance. He doesn't snore but he talk in his sleep, mostly about you or Belch.
⤷ Snotlout
The pursuit - At the end of the, Snotlout wants to relax. He have a big ego but even he have his limits. And his father isn't one of the best. So at night when is just the two of you he gets really soft. Which leans towards you being the big spoon.He loves to have his legs entwined with yours. And he loves how warm you are.
⤷ Astrid
Shingles - Astrid is dominant so most of the time she hold you in her arms. You lay your head on her chest or in her neck while she wraps her arms around your waist. Sometimes when she is sure no one listens, she sing to you. Or she hums into your ear. Softly, so you can fall asleep peacefully.
⤷ Ruffnut
The crab - Ruff is a very messy sleeper. She fall asleep in your arms but she wakes up on the floor with all blankets while you are freezing on the bed. She always apologize after that, because it's always cold at Berk and even bigger at the night so.. She is drooling a lot in her sleep. She has been a sleepwalker several times, so nights with her are always an adventure.
⤷ Grimmel
Loosely tethered - Grimmel is loner which means he is not used to cuddle with someone or let someone sleep next to him. But he's getting used to it, slowly. So he leaves a small space between you two but he's always holding your hand. When you fall asleep he is watching you. Not in a creepy way, he just love seeing your face.
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boy; girl; dragon
Hiccup only needs two things. He knows he can rely on both forever.
masterlist
There is a boy, and he has a girl. And also a dragon.
The order matters. He had the girl first, even if he didn’t know it yet. She didn’t say a word to him about the feeling beating against the bars of her ribs like a dove in a cage, not until he did first. The dragon helped things along, surprisingly. Usually, fire-breathing reptiles can only complicate a situation, but when two young people are soaring through the sky with only the billowing light of the sun and stars around them to bear witness to the truths they have to tell, secrets end up not so secret anymore. Hiccup told you he loved you. You said the same.
The dragon watched, and listened, and waited. It, of course, had known the whole time. Almost everyone did. Tact is a rare occurrence among the Vikings, but the people of Berk could tell that interference in the story of you and him, him and you, would not bode well. You and Hiccup were something different, something special. You didn’t need anyone but each other. And the dragon.
Loving a Viking is dangerous. Loving Hiccup was so far along the line of adventure and risk that even your first kiss felt like throwing off your armor to embrace a knife in your chest. If this was pain, though, it was the loveliest anguish you had ever experienced in your entire life. Falling in love with Hiccup was brilliant, like dragonfire; exhilarating, like tumbling in freefall; unfailing, like the son of a chieftain knowing that he would send his entire village to keep you safe from harm or die trying. Staying in love with him was soft torchlight, quiet mornings, wispy clouds around your temples when he took you up to see the stars. Easy. Perfect. And yours, all yours.
The two of you are together now, sitting side by side on the edge of a cliff. Most of Berk is rocky with occasional splashes of slate blue or chestnut wood to break up the monotonous grey, but tenacious patches of grass have managed to crawl up to the top of the cliffside here, providing you with a threadbare emerald blanket on which you can rest your legs.
A cool wind whistles through the air, toying with your hair and clothes before plunging off the edge of the rock face. You watch it go, taking a few errant leaves with it, and consider the drop down to the sea below you.
“If I fell right now,” you say to Hiccup, “off the side, you would catch me.”
“I would catch you,” he affirms. “Dragon or no dragon.”
“What if I fell too fast and you couldn’t reach me in time?” You ask.
He takes your hand, voice soft and gentle in the early morning. You’ve heard him louder and more assertive when directing the villagers, but you like him best like this, when Hiccup’s peace is only ever meant for you. There is an entirely different young man who exists only when he’s alone with you, a Hiccup that no one will ever know as well as you do. It is a delight to keep the secret of this second, inner boy. It’s a treasure that will only ever be claimed by you, a sparkling spread of gold and jewels captive to one person and one person alone. Not even blood relations can claim that sort of glory.
“There is nowhere you could go that I would not follow,” Hiccup asserts. “Not off the cliff. Not into the sky. I would follow you past the sun, or a hundred thousand lengths in the sea. I would search the world to find you, if I had to, and I would bring you back with me. Always. Do you believe me?”
“I do,” you whisper. “Always.”
“Always,” he repeats, and presses a kiss to your temple.
This is loving Hiccup, then. Always. Always the guarantee of a heart beating in tandem with yours. Always the confidence that you will not be alone in this world of yours, even as it seems to stretch out forever, even as it looms to hide a hundred friends or a thousand enemies. If the odds are with you or against you, you will have Hiccup to guide you through the trials and tribulations of this life of yours. It is written in the stars, and it is sworn by the one you love. No promise could be greater.
The two of you will descend into legend, into myth, into folklore. Never in the world have any two people loved each other more, and never will they again. Every young pair thinks that they could have this, a love to last a lifetime, but you and Hiccup will do them one better and last a thousand more. You could love him in every universe, every incarnation of yourselves, and Hiccup has already promised to be by your side no matter who you two were. Gods, maybe. Heroes or villains. Ordinary lives or glorious ones. All of them will feature the two of you together. Always.
A shadow briefly blots out the sun overhead, a pair of jet-black wings soaring through the early morning skies. As it loops and wheels towards the two of you, its shade flickers across the trees, dappling them with night’s fury even as the sun climbs higher into the sky. It occurs to you that you’d like every day to start and end like this one, for each one of your hours to be filled with this sort of blissful joy. You don’t need riches, you don’t need a legacy. All you need is right here before you. A boy and a girl. And also a dragon.
disney tag list: @blondsauduun, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @avadakadabra93
also tagging @hope92100 bc HICCUP
all tags list: @wordsarelife
#hiccup#hiccup imagines#hiccup x reader#hiccup oneshot#hiccup haddock#hiccup haddock imagines#hiccup haddock x reader#hiccup haddock oneshot#httyd#httyd imagines#httyd x reader#httyd oneshot#httyd hiccup#httyd hiccup imagines#httyd hiccup x reader#httyd hiccup oneshot#how to train your dragon#how to train your dragon imagines#how to train your dragon x reader#how to train your dragon oneshot#disney#disney imagines#disney x reader#disney oneshot
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ᴀ ʀᴜʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀꜱʜ & ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ───── ♛
pairing: evil!hiccup x f!mute!reader
wc: 1.7k
tw: yandere, implied kidnapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, mention of blood/violence, mention of death
synopsis: You regretted the day they left him for dead. And you’d regret the day you ever saw him again—he’d make sure of that.
A gleam of orange blazed in the bleakness of night.
You watched from your hilltop window—the thatched roofs off the eastern slopes of Berk twisting and writhing in flames. Even from a distance, you heard the breaking moans of ceilings, the cracks and bends of collapsing wooden structures, and the piercing wails of scales met with sharp edges of iron. Despite The Red Death’s fall, dragon raids still plagued the lands.
Perhaps it was all a sign of retribution.
You were told to stay within the safe confines of your home. Your father hadn’t wanted to risk your life, considering how precious you’d become. The next Seer in line after Gothi, gifted with spiritual wisdom, healing, and authority of officiating the next chief.
But the price to pay had been steep.
The house was dark, not even the smallest candle lit. Nothing that would draw a glimmer of attention to the home. A creak ached the roof above, and you flitted your nose up to the rafters, drawing lines across the ceiling. Nothing but your shallow breaths filled the silent dark.
The hearth then erupted with flame and spark, jolting you from back to neck bone. Had you any voice, a strangled scream would’ve ripped from your throat. Twisting, you had almost forgotten to breathe. A figure shrouded in shadow and leather stood beside the crackling firewood. Light and dark danced in an undulating battle across the strangers’ features–revealing a horrifying familiarity.
“Hope you don’t mind if I warm this place up a bit.” That voice, boy-ish in tone, lacked any hint of innocence or niceties. He stretched a gloved hand towards the licking flames, doing nothing to warm the ice coating his insides. “Couldn’t help but notice you looked a little cold and...alone.”
A snap of wood made you flinch; addressing him with quivering lips and dilated eyes. Your long-lost greeting didn’t forebode well.
Every piece of leather tightened around his body as he shifted. Turning to ensnare you within his talon like stare. When embers casted a sheen across his face, you braced against the sight. Soft features long since abandoned, reforged into a visage of cold iron. Carved and littered with scars and nicks across his furrowed brows, cheeks, and clenched jaw line.
“Well, this is kind of embarrassing. Wait, no. That’s not the word I was looking for. More like—disappointing. That sounds like a better fit. For you and everyone else here.” Hiccup stalked forward, a contraption of metal clanking and scratching against the splintering floors. Each step clanged through you, until he stood one heartbeat away. “After all these years, I’d thought you’d have a bit more to say than a blank stare. Every night, I dreamed about how this conversation would go. Just like how I dreamed things could be better than what they were. Funny how you can plan for things to go a certain way, but then…”
He pressed his hands at each side of your head, the glass window behind begging to crack from the pressure. His scent permeated, forcing you to swallow. Once smelling of spring honey and rolling glades, now sundered to singe your senses like bone ash and lightning storms.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s a little different.” He placed a calloused finger into the dip of your clavicle. He dug and dug until your pained gasp fell deaf to his ears. Tilting his head, he curled the lip of his mouth. “So, just like Gothi, you gave up your voice. Good—great, actually. This works out better for me.”
The smile that crept over his lips never made it up to his eyes. Not like before. Those vibrant meadows sullied into a sickly, muddled green. Thick and ichorous. And dared you stare long enough, you could never trudge your way out. Although you already felt stuck within them, your hand slipped silently into the pocket of your dress, where your fingers brushed against the hilt of a dagger.
You drew it a mere inch before his hand captured yours, twisting until he pried it into his possession.
“Come on. We both know you were never good at fighting.” He chuckled, wagging the sharpest point between your trembling eyes. “I’ll admit it. I wasn’t either back then. That’s something we had in common…until I had to be. Guess that didn’t work out in anyone’s favor on this wet piece of rock. Now, did it?”
Your vision blurred. Screams of the village roared in your ears. Screeches of dragons pierced through the air, engulfed in smoke and fire. Having consumed so much in its wake, you felt the heat of chaos leech into the glass. Searing your back pressed against it.
“Woah. Hey, don’t cry. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he swept a rough thumb over a falling tear stain. “Not all of them will die tonight. I mean, just think about it for a second. Can’t be chief and rule over a bunch of burnt corpses. How counterintuitive would that be?”
“As for you though…” he continued, and your heart stalled as he traced the cold metal down your flush cheek and neck, pausing just above your breastbone. “I’m only standing here, watching everything and everyone turn to ash around us, all because of you. And don't tell me you don't remember. When you mended my leg. Somehow kept me from bleeding out. Just before the entire village abandoned me.” His clouded eyes narrowed down. “Including you.”
Releasing you from his pinning weight, your legs wobbled. As if he hadn’t just snatched your foothold underneath. Terror kept your feet webbed in place, watching as he twirled your dagger in his fingers like a child's play thing. Crouching near the fire, he mindlessly poked and prodded at the stoking wood. He picked away a scrap of charred chipping, before plunging the blade into the flank of the burning log. You gazed at him, chest tight, aching. How he hadn’t flinched when the fire slicked around his hand like oil.
He dragged the smoldering stump from the hearth, creating a scorched line. When the licks of fire seeped into the house floors, he rose, one vertebra at a time.
“If I’m being honest, I probably would’ve done the same thing.” He unhooked a masked contraption from his belt buckle and tightened it over his face. The eye sockets were of yellow stained sea glass, and the mouth of it appeared like a muzzle of iron teeth. “Leave something already weak, then crippled to survive on its own. Gambling on the high-stakes of death. So sure of the outcome, no one bothered to turn over a shoulder.” Hellfire rose and swelled in the reflection of his mask. “Maybe they should’ve.”
The rapid hunger of the hearth fire blazed and curled across the floor of the home. Heat lapped towards your skin, drawing out sweat from your pores. Dense smoke began filling the wooden death chamber. You inhaled the black snowflakes, searing your lungs once they melted inside you. You slapped a hard hand over your mouth, coughing and shuddering against it. A pang of panic willed your body to move. You attempted to open the window behind you, but to your horror, it had been welded to the frame.
Your eyes watered, hugging the wall as you traced it to the door. When the handle clattered against your pulls and tugs, a ghostly laugh floated around you. The metal was bolted shut from the outside. A bout of nausea cramped your stomach. Fear darted your eyes toward the stairs, where the flames hadn’t yet reached—but soon. Perhaps the window of your room hadn’t been tampered with.
You darted towards the steps, and before you could place one foot up, a black beast stalked from the darkness of the second floor.
The floating embers danced hauntingly over the onyx scales, and gashes rippled in the firelight. Revealing wounds healed twice, perhaps three times over. That body of night perfectly reflected it's master’s outward appearance.
And as you drowned in those feral slits of pure abandon, it was apparent they also shared the same broken, unmendable soul.
“Oh. You remember Toothless, don’t you?” Your face paled, backing slowly as the Nightfury slithered down the steps like black ink. A predatory growl rumbled above the snapping and collapsing wood around you. Hiccup sauntered to the dragon’s side, patting the thick of his neck, pulsing with power. Another laugh at your expense. “Looks like he remembers you.”
You fought the claw of unconsciousness raking over every part of you. Choking, straining against your hand pathetically covering your mouth.
“Since you did me a favor back then, I’m going to give you one chance to make it up to me.” The mask muffled his voice, but the wickedness screamed, rattling your veins. “You can either choose to stay here and burn with the rest of Berk or…” he lifted a hand, hardly an invitation, but a devilish bargain. “You can choose me.”
In the thick of your pounding head and chest, you considered burning to death was the wiser option of the two. All that he was—what he’d inevitably become—held no promise of a life worth degrading yourself for. Nothing about you would be spared. And it wouldn’t be long till you dropped on hands and knees, begging for him to take your life. To end his drawn out game of torture. One he’d carefully crafted for years and years.
Just for you, only for you.
Still, you clung to life. A measly mortal thread. Your shaking hand lifted, painfully reaching for his fingertips. One step forward, and the world spun in wisps of red and black. Your lungs and heart throbbed, practically seizing. A calculated arm caught you, cradling you wholly, close as any lover would.
“Good choice.”
You heard the waning words of approval, and through the fading light of your vision, something fastened over your face. Your last conscious breath had been clean, airy—a pleasant contrast to the toxic fumes.
Then, nothing.
#hiccup#hiccup x reader#hiccup imagines#hiccup haddock#httyd#httyd fanfiction#httyd x reader#httyd imagines#how to train your dragon#evil!hiccup#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere male#reader insert#x reader#fem reader
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I'm not sure if you're still accepting requests so if you aren't, you can ignore this one!
Hiccup x reader where they've been arranged since they were teens and they try to navigate through their arrangement
Counting Coins
Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Reader
Words: 28,025
On one cold morning, a small Chief’s son and merchant child are arranged to be wed. Now, Hiccup Haddock is your fiance and you his. Despite your different walks of life, you find you come together quite nicely.
Tags: Gender Neutral/Intended Female, reunions, arranged marriage, half-fill, fluff, MATURE CONTENT, unedited
You furrowed your brows, curling your hands around the cloak of the master of this dock, his large form towering over your small one, thicker than you’d ever seen before and well muscled, though most muscles were hidden under his clothing, clean and darned for the occasion.
His hair was dark and his helmet large, horns seeming much too wide for his helmet, a stern man with a face hard set, yet he was gentle with you, and fond, despite your only recent meeting.
He seemed incredibly imposing, though it was a small comfort to have him on your side in front of you, acting as a shield. An in-between, a presenter for you though you knew this would be your first and last meeting.
Your white child’s robes teased the soles of your boots, fine and woven in silks you’d never had the privilege of touching before, belonging to a caliber much higher than your class. You knew after this you might not ever see those clothes again, embroidered and sewn delicately in a way you wanted to keep with ferocity.
Yet they were thin, not full enough to keep the chill from rushing up your sleeves in this early, biting morning.
Your nose was certainly sharp with cold bite, and you could feel the buzz of frost on each and every one of your limbs as if you had just been woken up for early travel, when things were dark and silent and dewy with spray.
With one eye, the other buried into rough fabrics, you examined enviously the boy before you, just as small and clad in a green tunic and a vest that was clearly new, dark and fluffy and evenly brushed out.
He must have been the same age, boots much too large for his stature. He was ruffled and slightly messy in other ways.
It looked like he wasn’t boat-steady yet, face ashy and ill.
They clearly had not come dressed to impress, donned in clothes that must have been casual, but they were fine all the same, sewn with a level of care and at quality that you’d grab for if left unattended, perhaps, on someone’s rickety ship table for feeling and keeping.
You had been told and taught carefully that the way people presented themselves communicated their intentions and the amount of respect one had for the other, especially in meetings for barter. You were not very good at telling yet what meant what, though you knew they must not like you very much at all.
Still, they didn’t want this boy. Who was he, to be brushed off onto the merchant class?
A large hand, made for crushings and trader-repelling, encouraged him forward, causing him to stumble before he came to a hard stop in front of you, twisting his hands together and looking at you with no small amount of fear and apprehension.
“Go on, Hiccup,” The king suggested, speaking in tones you were sure made the world rumble.
The man -the Chief, the king, the lord, the leader- of their community was large. Larger than the dock master, larger than anything you’d ever seen. His head would bump into the roof of your vessel, which seemed already so large to you.
He looked around with eyes that weren’t completely closed, brows not fully furrowed, still open to a degree that spoke of a lenient mind, yet his stance was critical and you knew he looked upon the others with no kind eye.
He scared you.
Behind them, their boat, a sturdy, well taken-care-of thing, sort of small yet painted in tasteful, neutral tones, bobbed and floated all the way at the end of the dock, a small bridge thrown down so that they could make a safe entrance onto this neutral moor from their vessel.
You didn’t even know his name.
All his father wanted was a safe future for him, at least, as he had said.
He had, apparently, a few very useful blacksmithing skills, or at least that was the plan, to teach him some useful trade, so as to ship him off overseas to another island or on to your boat where he wouldn’t be as much of a burden.
So his father bartered for your hand.
You sniffed, bridging up a clumsy hand, fingers grasping at your sleeve, to rub at your nose with worry and apprehension.
You were a no-good kid -in his eyes, you must have been- from the merchant class, though you’d been told you were well. He couldn’t even get someone from a place with a chiefdom.
You were sure his father was sorely disappointed. You were a migratory sort, after all. Your lot was a backstabbing kind.
You were under no delusions of grandeur and fine materials and princess-hood, you’d been told very clearly what was about to happen. The Hooligans were a rough bunch. They weren't keen on outsiders, and it had already been made clear that the point of the barter was to get something away rather than to bring someone in.
You didn’t know of any deeper meanings behind things like marriage, but you recognized a barter when you saw one; the exchange of meat for coin, bear fur for deer pelt, skull for tendon and scale and a few things extra, come up with in the time it took to get from place to place.
It was just that this time, you were the barter. No one had ever said anything, but you’d come to know it between actions and hesitant looks, apprehensive as if sharing dark secrets for a trade they weren’t certain you’d be involved, speaking of missing crew members, loot, sabotage and subterfuge, hiding things in whispers too valuable to be spared for the opposition, the way the best furs were kept in locked chest under ship floorboards, hidden from the children and yet seen by you all the same.
The same way the nice spices were held for lords and kings and chiefs all of the same kind, barred for use from the common folk, their origin a secret only a few in your migratory hodge-podge of a group knew and guarded from each other with lies and violence and suspicious eyes, searched for on single-man boats by lantern light far away from the prying gazes of your other kinsmen.
You were the ‘other,’ and it was that that told you that this time, you were the barter. The sacrificial lamb. You were old enough to understand that, at four winters old.
You wished you were on this dock, watching one of the others depart in a small boat instead of nearly alone in the cold and mist, something that acted as more of an obstruction than the preclude to a mystery or a passive tool, a plain cloak to drift through instead of a phenomena that acted as a cage around an arena, keeping everything else invisible to your eye except for the people in front of you.
You shivered.
The small boy stumbled forwards again, very reluctantly, leaning back as if he meant to stumble back, searching for a ways away.
His eyes were incredibly wide, trained on you the whole time as his father turned his attention away, muttering in low, important tones with the dock master.
“Hi,” The small boy tried shily. He looked very much as if he was about to cry, which did you no favors, emotion building at the corner of your lids.
“...Hi,” You whispered back, much quieter, creeping slightly further behind the dockmaster, who didn’t spare you much but a vaguely concerned glance, large, black brows furrowing as you tried to bury yourself in front of his puffy fur cloak and behind one large, trousered leg.
You should introduce yourself. You weren’t sure what he wanted, but you knew the still folk weren’t very fond of what you did. Would do.
“We… travel,” You mumbled clumsily, “A lot.”
The boy furrowed his brows, deterred, looking back to his father with an unsure, wobbly frown, though the large man paid him no mind.
He looked as if he would cry even more now, especially at the idea that he might be ousted, if what he knew of the situation went that far. With petty malice, you hoped they kicked him out from his home, yet he didn’t want him to be sent away for tiny things with your strange folk, so then maybe he would not want to come with you at all.
Good.
You sniffed then, just blinking, determined, giving him a defiant look even as you scooted further behind the dock master, tiny, clenched hands shivering.
The boy was trying his darndest to hold it in, fists clenched, eyes watery.
Your own expression was wobbly, but you were determined, face tilted slightly downwards with your refusal and will to stay silent.
There wasn’t so much a negotiation as a confirmation, a presentation of goods yet deep, silent, rumbled conversation went on for what seemed like ever.
If he cried, things would certainly be over. It had to be him. You willed that he do it first.
Time felt like more time, long and drawn and moments felt like eternities, forcing you to take in each and every bit that had been long drawn out. Something in the wind must have made it so.
You didn’t like it. Land made you unsteady, with so many things and legends and magic and still age, unflowing and stationary in all the ways your home was not.
It was new territory in a way that made you uneasy.
Eventually, your determined attention was brought away and your hands hid back into the confines of coated fur.
You drifted.
Granules of wood, the large cracks beneath your feet, old, dark, deepish gray. The swirling, moving water under your feet, bobbing, pulling, opaque, foamed, murky. The thin brush of fur tickly at your feet, the wind smoothing by your neck. Something tantalizing, all-consuming yet somewhat faint drawing you forwards.
You closed your eyes, body traveling to follow the scent, tilting forwards. It was something sweet and smooth and altogether tempting, sort of milky and dark.
You didn’t think scents could leave trails, but this, too you, was so strong.
You opened your eyes with a flutter to find that the boy across had done something in a much similar manner. You both had sniffed the air.
You looked at him with curious, vying eyes. It seemed as if you two had something in common after all.
You let go of the dockmaster’s cloak, sure not to let your hands shake, though you didn’t yet step free of his shadow, still close enough to feel tufts from his ensemble brush across your cheek.
You’d heard from some of the others of the dragons lurking in the mist and smog, deep in the wilds. If you followed the scent, however, you’d surely be fine. You were sure there was nothing strong enough to blow it away, not here and now when everything was quiet and still, even absent of the usual chirping of bugs and smaller such things.
You weren’t as familiar with land, most of your life spent on Boat. Though should the worst things come to worst, you’d follow the moss and whispers of fairies and any brooke you could find until you were back on your home boat, floating along the docks, tied secure and stationed by many others of your ilk. Like in the stories. Or maybe you’d follow the sound of rumbling voices, deep and sound, until you were once again above the water.
You sobbed, where you’d been thrown back, your arms stinging with raw scrapes and soreness, back stiff with the fallen feel of many rocks and a burn that spoke of peeled skin, screaming in a way that rang, gripping tightly onto fabric, though whether it was yours or his you couldn’t tell.
His nails in your arms, punching through fabric, said many things as you gripped each other tightly, half curled in on each other, tears and snot streaming furiously down his face and yours, told of and shared through the drag of his crying voice and the thickness of his frantic panting.
Thin, many, many teeth- staring into a large maw, thick mucus spraying, face split monstrously by three jaws and a grotesque, dripping tongue, green and deep in a sparsely wooded craig area. Two more visible behind.
You choked out another wet cry as the monstrous creature screamed, it’s aggressive voice causing you to wail louder. It had lured you.
You were good as dead.
You hated chocolate.
The scene -the reason why- as you remembered it, not that you let yourself, was cold and misty and told in flashes, washed with distance and a sense of levity only the most severe memories ever received.
A rushing fist, a quick yank, It was something you recalled mostly on cold nights under heavy blankets.
It hadn’t been too long ago.
Your face screwed up at the open box below, it’s gifter already busy off rifling for other things.
It was your second meeting at another dock, a half-way point, not that you had a still place to have a way from.
There was a forge here. His intent was to show off how he was faring in the forge, most likely -he said how he had something and he must show it to you in a forge.
It was his scene now, perhaps,and he was trying to impress by telling of how he was learning. By some way the Snaptrapper attack had had a weird effect on his brain.
You turned away from the small, open box in multiple small steps, wrapped and pulled open for you clumsily by the same boyish hands that offered them to you. Maybe you could sell it later -you couldn’t possibly give it away, not when it was something so valuable- yet you couldn’t eat it either, a precious thing you yearned to keep yet sent fear prickling down your spine.
Below you, who you looked down on from your high position on your mount was your future fiance -or current, you hadn’t yet gotten enough details to understand- who looked mini from your perch.
It was almost silly how he hung over the side of the open chest, the top half of his body hanging down into the barrel of it as he rifled around, the one thing he was looking for skidding across the bottom as he grabbed for it, scratching hand sounds muffled to your ears along with the sounds knocking against wooden walls.
You wrung your hands nervously, fingers and palms getting caught on newly cleaned sleeves, one of your older clothes pieces.
Certainly you’d never seen that nice robe ever again. It was never meant to be kept, but you’d wanted to know what there was to do with it, now that it was ripped and mud-dirtied and mussed, if it had been made to sell in some form as it had been taken away from you.
You climbed down from the height, sitting down on the chair and stretching your legs towards the stone floor of the foreign forge with a light strained noise made in the back of your throat, hands placed carefully flat, fingers together against the wood of the chair behind you.
You reached out your booted toes, stretching your legs delicately until you felt they were stretched as far as they could go, until the drop was much less high than it was before, a distance you found to be much more manageable for you to drop down.
You patted the bottoms of your boots lightly on the floor as you settled as if to clear the dust from them, one after the other, lifting your knees up a respectable height before moving them slowly back down, though it was with not enough force to do more than make a quiet pat.
You used your hands to brush off the leg-covering length of your tunic, sort of scratchy and worn and holey by one of the sleeves, just the way you’d been taught and shown.
You looked back up carefully, brows furrowed upwards with slight worry to meet a pair of large, intent eyes, the sort you likened to a big pool of water but green and murky as your to-be husband held out a small knife by the handle with clumsy child’s hands.
“It’s for you,” His voice wobbled as he said it, light with hope and nerves.
You stared at it for a long, long moment, unsure of what to do, hand half stretched out, hovering above it. Were you supposed to pick it up?
The blade was sort of triangle shaped, wobbly and wrenched and very, very dented along the side, flat ends of the blade offset in some places where hammer-sized circles lay flat at slightly the wrong angle like lumps on the side of the face of a young shiphand.
He had found you the biggest chest to bring it in, even if it’s contents were small. He’d said so, which was very flattering.
“It’s cool,” He insisted, voice wavering with nerves.
He thought it was cool
He looked at you intently.
He… wanted to make you happy
You supposed it was your job to make him happy too, and to make him happy, his gifts would have to make you happy. So perhaps you would. Would tell him he was doing a good job.
But how were you supposed to receive gifts? No one had ever told you that before.
Though you’d learned much first and second hand, especially for your age on your boat, if words were also a part of trade, you’d not yet been versed. Not truly.
“Okay,” You picked it up unsurely with pinched fingers, holding it by one dented blade end, “Thank you. I like it a lot.”
You were careful to speak nice, in your bartering voice, separate from your normal seafaring drawl.
The boy seemed to preen at that, putting his hand by his chest slightly and giving you a grin so wide he had to be faking some of it. Not his enthusiasm, but in his efforts to communicate it, to make his joy seem super clear to you.
You said it to yourself in guesses in your mind, though you felt there was a certain truth to it as it was; there was a level of performance in success.
You offered him a tiny smile back, holding the small knife close to your chest with both your hands by its equally uneven handle, blade part pointed down.
With your troope you traveled, past and through fjords with waters a beautiful, clear turquoise that seemed to speak deep into your soul, full enough to carry your boat yet shallow enough that you were sure you could stand at the bottom. Fresh enough to make you wonder what sailors needed stories of sirens for, when the water was entrancing and glittering enough to pull you in all on its own.
Mountains lined by blankets and blankets of greenery, so full and lush it’s color seemed nearly turquoise, saturated and unspotted to a fantastical degree.
You’d passed by a beach with sand the color of warm, red rust, a deep maroon you wished to scoop up and bottle and hold dear to you for the rest of your lifetime.
Yet, perhaps its ephemeral nature was what made it all the more valuable, more novel as it was passed from you to another, a fractured experience, the only whole copy laying in your memory, precious and aged as the finest of wines.
Of course you passed the small bottle, as you had to, stopped with a small cork, into the hands of another, who stood anxiously on the dock in front.
When you’d grabbed his hand earlier, he’d seemed to deflate with relief.
He loosened even more, then.
Your feet shuffled hollowly against the damp wood below. This dock might need repairing soon, decking wearing and decaying, crusted in parts with sour fish and clinging barnacles along what parts of the poles you could see through cracks.
“I’ve gotten this for you,” You said, adjusting your cloaked poncho with one hand, tattered and tasseled and wrapped around your shoulders, held together by dirty stitches.
Beneath that you wore slightly nicer clothes, though still darned by the hardships of your travels, much lighter than you would have preferred had you been given the resources to prepare yourself for your next meeting.
“Thank you,” His voice was still light, then. It crackled with the idea that it might yet grow deeper, though you hadn’t high hopes.
The son of the Chief took the vial from your hands. Twelve winters you’d lived, and thirteen had he. You were younger than him yet much wiser.
The exchange of gifts was a common thing between the two of you, since you had been engaged all those years ago, though you’d never been away for so long, so some uncertainty was to be expected.
A whole half of a season of the two that existed in the Norse calendar.
Your to-be husband’s peoples had settled closer in location to the Gaelic and Romans than their original homeland. You were sure they’d long lost knowledge of where they’d come from, and whether there was land or life outside of the archipelago, which was just as well.
When younger, you visited frequently, every month, every few weeks. All meetings arranged, atmosphere heady and thick with tense expectation, and yet you could tell he grew fond of you all the same. It was less often now, the meeting- but most of the knowing you shared still stayed, albeit you were much more distant now.
So, you’d met plenty, yet your tie kept you stuck closer to the archipelago.
With the synchronized movements of two teens who knew, you both grabbed hands, one more nervous than the other.
Without speaking, you walked hand-in-hand across the docks and towards the precarious, which lead to the cliffs cradling your to-be’s bustling wen in its embrace, imposing ramps held up by thick timbre and built outwards rather than carved in.
The docks were reasonably crowded, though the patrons there lie more in uniform than not, in a typical, respectful fashion.
You noticed the way the others of your age and not left out the two of you, you more by nature and expectation as an outsider, an individual of distrust and Hiccup as something else you weren’t privy to, perhaps in part because of your association.
They snickered at him like the chittering of wily nymphs in wide, foggy mists; a thin boy with straw hair, long at the ends, top hidden by a shallow helmet. Another boy, thicker with large elbows and a square, slightly displaced jaw.
You had been here too often not to notice.
Your fiance- he looked at you as if you were holy, light reflecting off of his eyes, off the pupils and the neutral green iris in a way that made them look as if they glittered just as they had before your most recent departure from the Archipelago.
He looked at you with wonder as well, which was perhaps your fault; filling his head with tales of waves larger than Berk was tall and rumbles in the sea of things that left everyone on board still, quiet and unmoving as you waited for ancient things to pass and return to slumber.
You’d spent hours explaining the difference between beautiful danger and danger-like beauty, how so many mystical things could be lost in something as uniform as the ocean. True magic existed only after long periods of wait.
“Well…”
Your fiance was proud to share his own lively exploits, a life of action and battle and escape from ferocious beasts, blood feuds and quickly made inventions. You were unfamiliar with land and he fed off that, speaking and embellishing with the hopes to tell you something that you might find impressive, hoping that might somehow reflect back on him.
It was obvious by his actions- the way he postured and when he would and wouldn’t look you in the eye, caring in a way you were mystified by, the origin of such affection alien to you yet welcomed all the same even in spite of its impropriety.
He was less nauseated by the waters now and he spent more time aboard ships as a watcher, learner and sometimes helper, a privilege not many were afforded, the last part going unsaid as you were sure any son of a shiphand would have been long since used to the seas.
That was of the most minor importance, however. You were never too old to earn your sea legs. His efforts, instructed or not, were still very much appreciated.
You too would perform well by both your own want and volition.
You chose to bump his shoulder with your own as you slowed, closer now to the village than the docks.
Closeness was expected from an engaged couple.
You were set by the waving grass near the upper cliffs, not so close to the edge as to merit worry over crumbling rock yet not so far that the seas just below were obscured to you.
A short row of trees lined your way to the village kingdom, a thin, sparse mimicry of the forest beyond the bridge on the other side of the island, no doubt soon to be cut down and used for woodstock.
A rock protruded from the ground next to another just by it, both in a way that put you by the sea, closer to the cliff’s edge than away towards the treeline as you leaned against it.
Your fiance did the same.
Hiccup was nervous again.
As you settled, you eyed a pouch by his hip, the majority of it concealed by the fur of his coat yet spotted by you all the same as you made your way up the dock ramps.
You’d expected it, or at least something of a similar sort.
You’d come with a purpose, your visit in part an inspection.
The others, they would swarm the markets and try to leech off slain dragon skin and hide and scale. You had another matter, a pointed one, one that you were very well expected to tend to with haste and heavy judgment.
This was far from the aimless sort of company shared by the you from months ago, indulged in by your fiance. Your life was a product you had to sell, you were pointedly aware, yet only one part of the agreed upon exchange.
Of course, if he was to one day join you as a craftsman on the water, it was of the utmost importance that you make sure he could, in fact, make things.
“I’ve-I’ve got something,” Hiccup started hesitantly, shoulders hunched.
He was told to show and present it to you- He must have been, because his demeanor was tamed, schooled yet restless as if he expected a test by which he was afraid he might be found lacking.
It was obvious earlier by the twitchiness of his hands and the sweat beading on his clenched palms as he grabbed onto your own. It was obvious now in the way he still wouldn’t look you in the eye.
“You do?” You asked, feigning surprise and a careless indifference. It was supposed to convey comfort and to lessen the pressure of expectation.
“You can keep it, if you want- I-” Hiccup tried, appealing to you the best he could before cutting himself off, pulling open the pouch and, very carefully, by the blade this time, handing you the shining handle of a sharp knife.
You were reminded sharply yet not unexpectedly of a time when you were kids and he handed you something of a similar nature, small and dull and bent out of shape.
It was nostalgic.
You looked down, grabbing it carefully, rubbing over the only unmarred -uncarved, you should say- bits of the knife with a soft thumb, feeling nothing but round surface.
It appeared he was a good craftsman, the hand smooth and varnished, notches and designs carved into both the wooden handle and the blade. The woodwork was of the most importance. His access to a forge would be naught overseas.
What interested you the most were his mistakes. Your hands were well trained, and through experience and teaching, you’d learned it was the smallest of things that could make or break a sale.
If there were too many resources expended on things of lowest quality, it would mean space lost bringing trade from one place to another. These were things that needed to be accounted for to the very last detail when you were traveling on a ship as packed as yours for so far a distance. If they were not, then you were better off dead than above the waves.
There was still a slight number of scratches and bumps in places like corners and on the handle, smudged by soot in the shape of fingerprints that told of inexperience and a slightly clumsy, novice hand, and yet his progress spoke more- he was average, for his age. Unpracticed in the art yet familiar with the semantics, skills more geared towards practicalities than fancy.
You could not glean the full scope of his abilities from just a knife, that was true, but this was good enough.
It would serve you and everyone else just fine. In fact, it was much nicer than anything you’d been allowed to touch in a while.
You glanced back up at him without lifting your head.
Hiccup’s nerves seemed to grow more as he waited for your response, hands wringing, expression pinched as if he was about to build up a sweat, sooted hair seeming to wilt with him.
The poor boy was sweating.
You stood straight, letting the knife fall to your side, hooking it onto your belt as you reached for his hand.
He seemed to relax.
“It’s nice,” You said simply, yet with an abundance of appreciation.
Yet you didn’t relax, as your part wasn’t yet over. This was something you couldn’t sugarcoat, as it came with a catch. Many catches, for him. Inevitable ones, negotiations having long since been made on his behalf, not many having to do with accommodations.
How to bring forth the topic, though, was the question.
“Are there any things to know? Things I… should know?” Hiccup shuffled his boot against the dirt, “About trust and… And other things?”
Hiccup spoke haltingly, as if he’d realized he’d messed up very quickly and yet had been too far along his thoughts to stop at any appropriate time.
You hummed questioningly, though you were certain; It seems your intrepid fiance had beaten you to the punch. You chose to take no offense.
He had been well prepared for this conversation, it seemed. Not in the ways that would make life easier for him, but in the ways you supposed his father would find relevant.
“I mean… Responsibilities?”
“Trust isn’t important beyond what’s needed to be able to make a trade,” You shrugged, “The only responsibility you’d have are the ones involving your goods. There is no home besides the one you make over the sea.”
Your. Not our. The sharing of assets was something you were not yet decided on or old enough to try, but one day you supposed it would be a must.
“No treaties. No Vikings. No ties. Just travel,” You murmured, placing both of your hands over his, “You’re my only tie.”
“Honesty?” He said, referring to the word in a way that, for the second time, made you think he’d been over this with someone else before, face tilted and eyes wide in a way that conveyed insecurity in the face of danger, “I heard… the others, from your group- they’re going to try and scam some of the villagers out of their coin?”
That certainly must have come from his own words and his own heart.
You still did not take offense.
You pulled your hands slowly back to yourself as you leaned back and pondered, leaving shaking, softer knuckles behind.
The other villagers here were very clearly disgruntled at having to honor the dishonorable. It would be upsetting for him to know that one day he might have to face the same scorn, regardless of whether or not he was truly a liar.
Yours was not at all the fighting sort, however you were silver in other ways, unlike the merchants they typically chose and cherrypicked and allowed passage onto their shores.
You were sure his clansmen already believed him to be so. He was bright and flighty and still and they were not kind. Neither were your folk, in many other ways. Both, you knew, were cautious of each other, your ilk more proactive with words, wielding phrases that bit and knives to stomachs.
You understood him, still as the wind brushed past you from the sea, tangy with the smell of salt, reminding your tongue of the taste of it as it went breezing through and past your poncho.
There was safety in it. A desire to protect oneself from the perceived. From the outside. It was just that your inside was much smaller. It forced you to look outwards more often than not, and perhaps that was what intimidated Hiccup so much.
However, If Stoick the Vast believed being on a boat was safer than being on Berk, he was wrong. Or perhaps right, but only in the most bare sense. If he kept to himself, his son should be fine. Even if you didn’t do the same, holding deep trade secrets or vyied-after product.
People came and went quickly.
It was a quick and daring life, not always long if you were on the front lines, but he’d live a long while, well into old age at least as his father most likely intended.
“It’s nothing I have to do with… but it’s something I will have to do one day,” You said bluntly, yet your voice was still soft, “Maybe.”
There was no shake to his voice, though you could hear caution, “Will I have to?”
You murmured sounds nonsensically into the air, raising a skeptical brow, feeling the sharp, cold, flat surface of a rock press against your backside as you leaned further back.
That seemed to be enough of an answer for him.
“I guess I’ll have to man up, huh?”
You recalled a child’s wandering, more whispers of him not being man enough to drop the fool you were, rashly and rowdily and suddenly. It would be quite easy to be rid of you, though you didn’t care much at all what he did, just so long as you could be honest by the trade.
“You’ll be a craftsman. That’s plenty man enough- very useful, the most over the sea,” You were familiar with his propensity to get sick over the water, the one he’d had when you were young kids that made fishing nigh impossible and travel incredibly difficult. You hoped he’d grown out of that, despite his assuring words.
You nodded to yourself unsurely, “That’s the finest advice I can give you now.”
By the twisting laws of word, structure and sense you could say it wasn’t necessarily advice. It didn’t make much sense for it to be.
There was better advice out in the world. The kind that inspired the innovative, the kind that asked the bright minded to twist convention and birthed new processes and brought blessings into the world. He was probably better off taking that instead.
You told him so.
“All you’ll need to know to do with a knife is stab, anyhow. Some skinning, I suppose. How to gut a fish,” You tilted your head to the side, eyes wandering slightly, irises briefly bobbing towards a cawing sea bird, brave to be out in reptilian-infested skies, though you knew the day was safe. Mostly, “Guard your coin, sleep tight.”
“Coin?” Hiccup asked, sitting up straighter.
You gazed back at him plainly, giving him a simple nod.
Wealth came and went. You learned to hide it, guard it preciously.
Another thing you told him. The first part, anyhow. The second you kept to yourself. You’d done enough frightening off recently.
“This is- my own thing, for you, then,” Hiccup suggested, rifling again in that small pouch of his, grasping in a way that poked against the sides of fabric walls, grasping frustratedly for something it took him much too long to touch, his face tilted down with a mildly disgruntled expression on his face.
He pulled first something that glinted and went back in for something else, pinching fabric and dropping things back into the pouch when he meant not to, fingernails too blunt to get a good grip.
It was a few moments longer and a few light, frustrated grunts from him, until you had been bestowed upon something small and hand-warmed and cool in what you could feel in a way you likened to patches, off-putting slightly yet not unwelcome to you.
You rolled it from your palm to a place pinched between your fingers with a smooth if not uncomfortable and odd-looking action, too familiar with the act of handling coins despite their fleeting nature.
There was a scratch in the corner, though despite that the coin was clean to an average degree and smooth on one side in a way that made you think someone had spent a long time rubbing at its face with their thumb, perhaps, or another finger.
It was dull with the oils from the hand, yet it wasn’t so thick, mostly dull in places hard to reach, like the corners where runes had been largely and blocking inscribed, telling you it had been a while since it had left the hands of the person that had done the rubbing and it had been cleaned at least once.
You’d stopped paying attention to your surroundings, slightly craning your neck down and bringing your hand up to look closer at the coin in a way that felt uncharacteristic as your attentions were brought to other things, your calm demeanor returning you back to an even calmer state.
Already his hands were lifted, hovering by your neck in a way that felt heavy, moving with jerky hesitance.
His clenched fingers brushed past your ear in a way that didn’t touch but made you sense, heat passing lesser heat as he dropped a thick, wide twine cord down the rest of the way to your shoulders, it pulling slightly taut against the back of your neck and it was pulled forwards by the light weight near the front of it.
You looked down in a way that made your chin touch your neck and the back of your nap stretch, eyes straining down.
There, by your chest lay a smaller pouch -one where he was probably supposed to hold the coin, yet didn’t in a fashion that was very typical for a boy from your peer group- one he hung around your neck.
“For the advice,” Hiccup suggested awkwardly.
You had stood there in puzzled silence for a while.
Eventually, you reached a time to part or leave, just briefly, temporarily separating perhaps as you made your way off, back towards civilization.
First, though, you looked towards your to-be husband.
He’d leaned closer just a moment before, and now he seemed hesitant, for obvious reasons.
The one time you had seen a rodent entrapped by a snare, suffocating and infected, neck bloating in a way that said it had been left out, injured, for days? It was a miracle it had survived so long, twitching and antsy and suffering- it was also inedible.
Hiccup looked like that.
Lips pursed slightly, not in a noutwards manner, more resembling a line, thought his intentions were clear, face red as if he’d been holding his breath for a while -he had been- eyes twitching even as they remained lidded, stressed like a string about to snap.
-Of course, you’d done nothing of the sort before. You would do nothing improper. Nothing to jeopardize your deal. Not when it’d done so much- not yet, but.
It would go against a given, unspoken contract, the expectation things proceeded slowly, as they should in a way that was socially appropriate for teens your age. Before, it had. But maybe not… Now.
You’d not have much time left, though you were too… Dazed, perhaps. Not in a rush, carefully considering everything and nothing in the few long yet away-slipping seconds it took for you to make your decision.
His twitching eyes were slowly opening, pupils darting with slight humiliation and hesitance, perhaps, hoping you hadn’t noticed somehow.
You nearly had the desire to pretend you hadn’t- to have mercy on him.
You took pity on him and moved closer. You would do nothing more than this.
A press on the cheek. Then something simple. A peck on the lips.
For the coin, You decided.
Later, you could explain what went on- the ins and outs and the other complicated social politics involving your merchants and the sort of ins and outs he’d need to be living with them. You did. You had to.
Even later in the day, after a brief stint on the water with the fishermen, you’d witness your first dragon raid. Your fiance seemed to be a bit too into the violence. That was fine.
He was a Viking- and as such, you decided it was expected.
Once again you found yourself on Berk’s docks.
After long travels and a few years, you’d reentered the Archipelago to rumors of a mighty dragon tamer and a blossoming romance, which seemed to indicate for you some trouble brewing on the horizon, luring you back towards Berk.
The last you heard, he’d found another, the news broken by an envoy. Though you didn't particularly hold faith in those heavy words, you still listened, and waited for more. At a gainly pace, you’d made your way across the oceans, stopping appropriately when trade dictated. However, a budding curiosity, unstifled, grew in your chest.
You’d seen a desert though you’d had not enough time to make the Great Journey across to the other side, where spices and silks were in more abundance and half your caravan had been replaced with another sort as some grew too old to do anything but settle, others splitting off to join other groups and travel new routes.
They had been replaced all at once after a long period of dwindling by a particularly rough band of folks, wielding knives with blades skillfully curved as a snake moving through sand.
Most were from way down south, ones who had chosen to migrate away from their cities, in part perhaps due to some terrible, inescapable treachery. There were some from the islands around the archipelago, too. You were wary of them, though their kind was not a new one to you, no different from the worst of the few short-lasting you’d grown up with and had known before.
You had returned from your travels with dangling gold bangles and coins attached to skirts locked away in a trunk seep in the ship for the wily patrons on Knaff or the auctioneers in the small Ice fortress up by the Northlands, something to exchange for their colorful furs which would surely be well received by the Romans.
Another trip by the main continent blessed you with more colorful clothes and fabrics and silks and, with the excess of inventory and the accidental destruction and loss of a great number of old, darned clothes over your travels, your bunch was able to donn nicer clothes, a league of distance from the tattered grays and the muddy, green-ish sand color you were used to.
The traumatizing child incident still dictated that you hated chocolate, or whatever sweet could be made up in its likeness, but you’d brought back something similar anyways.
You hoped that a few of the Northmen would stay, settling for their homeland and satisfied by the bragging rights bestowed upon them by their long journey and their trade, now that they’d had it up to their heads and shriveled hearts in travel and experience. Not that that experience tended to stick, as you and your more sane shipmates mumbled back and forth to each other. Some people were too hard-headed to truly take in any lessons or worldly knowledge.
You loathed that they were able to share in your joy and luck, also dressed in fabrics of multiple colors.
You also hoped they would not cause some sort of accidental betrayal on your part as they swindled and stole, so that your standing with your fiance would not be sabotaged nor your promised exchange mishandled somehow in any way worse than it already had been, forcing you to shed allegiances where they mustn’t be shed
You would have to keep an eye on them if not warned the inhabitants of Berk off all of them altogether.
As you’d docked, you’d seen… Dragons. You tried not to show you apprehensiveness, stepping out with surety as the locals around you moved casually, talking freely and without that usual, aggressive weight.
Brightly colored tails curled and lashed as large bodies crept just out of view, colorful spots flapping through the sky like carefree birds. The atmosphere here was so much lighter in a way that must have run as deep as Berk’s culture and altered way of life. You could feel it.
The docks were bustling this time, villagers moving freely along the wide dock floor, clearly newly repaired and well taken care of, receiving you better than they ever had before. The new goods probably helped some, too. You’d never come to Berk with such a boon before.
You hoped your fiance hadn’t put in a good word for you. It would be a shame if it all went to waste, ruining his credibility as you were sure your new group’s half would ruin yours.
You heard the names of a Sven, a Mjolnir, an Agnarr, a Thora all before you’d seen him.
You weren’t sure what you expected. Would he be taller, more built so as to match his reputation, or would it proceed him? It ended up being neither.
Rays beat down on your covered shoulders in a way that made the skin just above flesh feel like a hot rock.
The sun was warm and heady in a pressing manner, though not incredibly so, not the way it was, exhausting and persistently dry as it was further down south, nor as it was over the oceans, on days you feared you’d run out of fresh water before you could cool and boil a new batch of buckets.
It took a moment, but through the crowd, as your shipmates siphoned out in pairs of twos with chests and sly words, you spotted him.
Two large, heavy shoulders reaching a few heads above his own parted to reveal Hiccup.
Immediately, to you, the change in dynamic was obvious, like some switch being pressed, flicked and another mechanism- a snare trap, perhaps, or something simpler- flung.
Your intrepid fiance now seemed to embody the title completely, adapting to his position as the Hope and Heir- at least, as you said it.
You presumed that, with his success, after this moment, you would no longer be expected to sweep him away and save him from this island. It seemed, in the most metaphorical sense, as if he might be the one doing all the sweeping from now on.
He was still quite skinny, though a measure taller than he’d been when you’d last seen him. However, he seemed a great deal more confident in ways you couldn’t describe, not that he wasn’t confident before, but this sort seemed to increase his presence in a way you were sure his father approved of.
You hoped he’d lost none of his sarcasm, his silver tongue, the propensity to exchange sharp words in jest with others in a way you’d come to associate with the flavor of smoke and steel in the air, in a way you’d spent your time here looking in on, when it happened, though none it ever seemed to occur while two of you alone.
He came up to you quickly, not minding the murmuring of the crowd at all, and you’d taken a step forwards to join him in greeting before realizing he was coming forwards perhaps a tad too fast given what was appropriate. By then, you’d half- fed into the urge to step back.
In one moment, you’d been struck with indecision, which was jarring on its own, stuck deciding where you wanted to focus your redistributed weight. In the next, he…
He’d hooked his arms under yours, hands coming to clutch quickly at your back and waist as he pulled you clumsily closer.
In a move that was sudden and surprising to you, brought your faces together, a clumsy jab of teeth wrought with joyful emotion.
He looked appreciative, though you couldn’t pin why. Was it the quirked smile pulling at his cheeks? The careful, worried tilt of his brows or the appearance of two slightly gapped -though not so distant as they had been before when you were younger- teeth that had told you so?
It startled you, not a feeling borne out of fear, distaste or any other particularly tangible and immediately describable emotion, moreso it was a feeling sprouting quickly out of the momentary rudeness of his actions and the lack of time you’d had to think or mull.
Once you parted, you could not help but lean back into his arms slightly, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, firmly but without any intense grip.
You looked at his face.
You had no clue where his enthusiasm had come from.
“I heard rumors you’d moved on,” You said, finally. It had taken you a moment to figure out what to say, as tiny dragon’s claws skittered across the docks behind you, casual as a fowl’s.
You resisted the urge to look, continuing to examine your fiance’s face.
Dragons were fewer and farther between the further you got from the Archipelago. It was something to look at, surely, when you’d less of other things to focus on.
“Who said that?” Worry broke through his expression like the hull of a ship through a stormy wave.
“I’m not sure. I only hear what’s been passed. Ear to ear and the like,” You hummed, sort of mumbling as you pulled back a bit and examined the spring and peg that seemed to have replaced his left foot, “Is it true?”
“No,” Hiccup said firmly, brows furrowed, voice concerned and sort of hurt, “No, of course not.”
You raised your brow.
You supposed it really could have been a rumor, though still you wondered what could have been said that had spiraled so quickly, suddenly and largely.
Dragon taming seemed an impossible feat, one that the people outside were trying to make sense of. In the meantime, not many were brave enough to venture up to Berk’s shores. It was so fantastical a claim it seemed a story, and so it wasn’t a far stretch to assume the travelers had taken it that way and treated it as such, molding the rumors to their own liking, more than news already tended to be stretched and bent as it passed from ear to ear.
You weren’t sure if you were glad that you had come so quickly to check.
If you hadn’t, you were sure your engagement would have been all for naught, unless your fiance decided to pursue you on dragonback.
Your eyes were drawn briefly to some fighting on the docks, a dry look from you aimed towards them.
A wily man with a curled, thin mustache and a long beard who you knew likened himself to a genius -a wise man well traveled- but was actually a foul, hunch-backed man was arguing with a local man thrice his size, built like a fortress with flowing blonde hair and a beard that, though not as long as your groupmates', was five times as wide.
You were sure it would soon get physical.
You sighed. It was better you differentiated yourselves from them now, rather than let it lie and suffer the associated consequences later.
“Yes, well, before we get into the meat of things-” You sighed, “I bring a warning- some of the others in my troop-...”
You heard snickering from a pair of what must have been twins, hair the same shade of pale, sandy blonde, though one had their hair knotted in two brains while the other had slightly broader shoulders under a manure-colored vest and thicker helmet horns.
Their shoulders were bouncing with malicious glee, their enthusiasm feeding into the upset.
You hadn’t noticed them behind at first, too taken by your fiance’s sudden appearance, however it seemed there had been a procession.
There was a small group of Vikings about your age standing behind, where Hiccup had been before. The common emotion among the younger Viking folk seemed to be slight skepticism and mild shock, most intensely from a stocky boy with a missing tooth, closely followed by a thin blonde with a sharp eye, probably displeased by your careless display of affection. Yet, even among those two, most of their attention was focused on the budding fight a few steps aside.
You thought that you could maybe recognize one, though it was fleeting and could very well have been a delusion, an easy mistake. Doppelgangers were common, easy to find wherever you went, each face used and reused over plains and mountains and sprawling countries.
You relaxed, arms still somewhat entangled with Hiccup’s, welcoming the embrace, which seemed to make your fiance joyful yet still as you two continued to break past the distant boundaries of your relationship.
“They’ll… Handle it.” Hiccup stated surely, sort of gesturing back to his ungainly posse with one hand, the space it left behind cool and empty over crumpled and wrinkled fabric.
“Ah…” You said, tongue heavy. You were slightly aware of your own accent, heavy and altered and affected by words exchanged over years spent speaking other languages and the stunting of your Norse vocabulary. It was tinted also by the development of your own special dialect after being stuck in close quarters with others who tended not to call the same language their own, “I suppose I must be too late…”
Hiccup sighed back, eyes darting to the side in a way you took as a hint, suggesting through signals that you abandon his small retinue while you still could.
You two used the distraction to your advantage, though you still had a few things you wished to ask, now that some of your more important concerns had been settled.
Would dragon scales make fine jewelry? How had their economy fared, and what would, say, that big, busty man in the large hat pay for a nice new coat?
You hadn’t yet seen his steed or heard mention of it just yet, a mount of scales black as night and a blast with all the violence of lightning and many times the ferociousness of a storm.
You had not yet asked about the future, sure that you would need to give him time for things to settle, though you were acutely aware of what sort of bearing all of this would have on yours.
You stood with him on the cliffs up by the spire that housed the great, grand hall embedded into the mountain and in your travels.
You would be sticking close to the archipelago now on, you decided, same as you did when you were young and learning more about your new husband-to-be, especially as you reached the agreed upon age to marry.
Technically, as it was now, you could marry at any time. You’d seen people your age getting wed. However, no one had wanted to rush into things so fast, and now was more the time to watch and wait. It wouldn’t do you well to act in haste, not when things were so precarious.
Your tongue felt at an empty socket in your mouth where one of your teeth had been removed by a violent encounter with a rock as you’d stumbled your way upwards.
Perhaps noticing your plight, Hiccup asked, “Are you alright?”
“...Are you appalled?” You rolled your eyes, speaking in turn, lazily tracing the dimming sunlight with half-closed eyes, feeling quite satisfied with a long day well spent.
You displayed your socket past a barely open mouth before closing it, the point of your action not any more to show than to indicate.
You shifted your hands, pressed flat against a rock just behind you, one you'd chosen quite tiredly to lean against and Hiccup had as well, the two of you enjoying the stored heat it radiated into the cooling air.
You could tell Hiccup nearly did the same, eyes almost mirroring yours.
“It’s charming,” he said, throwing your own words back at you, from earlier in the day, when he’d been dragging a snappish terror along by the prosthetic, its empty gums squishing impishly against the wood and rope on its upper half.
You huffed again and adjusted the cloak draped elegantly across your shoulders by the lapel, a slightly dusty deep, deep blue, nearly black, which shifted in the light like secondhand velvet, before letting your hand fall back again.
You had had a day of simple pleasures. Just Hiccup and you.
His reputation did you wonders. Everyone knew you were engaged, after all. But you didn’t care about that, though it was helpful navigating your way through the village during the short time the two of you had been separated, split by the crowds.
“Merchants can be ferocious too,” You said, voice somewhat loopy with content pleasure.
“Are you sure? There’s one,” Hiccup frowned, “He’s got the most unbearable stories…”
“That’s Johann, then,” You hummed, feeling the heat from his arm also, a close distance away, near enough to feel the heavy from his skin yet far enough not to touch, fingers both pressed flat against rock and separated by a hair.
Hiccup looked at you, brows raised with easy surprise, “You know him?”
“Johann does some dragon-killing himself,” You nodded, “Can’t roam the seas here alone without a swift hand.”
Hiccup looked uneasy.
“Some merchants have a reputation for a reason,” You warned, “Keep an eye out for that one.”
“It just… Seems out of character,” Hiccup said carefully, voice halting.
“It’s to keep you from asking about the Romans, I assume,” You tilted your head back, looking up and enjoying the sun; this was old news to you. One of your folks had tried to get him to join your group, once upon a time, even ignorant to the vast majority of his dealings.
He was skilled enough, to them, for it not to matter how shady he was. It was worth the danger, you thought, at the time, “I know he deals closely with them. Or, other dragon hunters. It’s very hard for patrons to ask unwanted questions when they don’t have the time, see.”
“I don’t really know much about that. I don’t like it all that much,” Hiccup’s lips tightened into a thin line before quickly correcting, “Not…the merchanting. But the hunting.”
“You used to be so enthusiastic about it,” You shifted, pressing more of your weight against the stone by your back.
“I… Outgrew it. The whole fighting thing. The whole… Viking thing,” Hiccup seemed exhausted, voice tired as he spoke. The words, too, were odd to you.
While dragons had been adapted into life on Berk in a whole new way, the people here didn’t seem any less… Norse.
You thought of looking at him again, giving him a skeptical eye, yet you decided it wasn’t worth the effort you’d have to expend to pull your face down and out of the sunlight, which tickled the senses embedded into your face like blades of grass against your palms and toes.
You’d offer him a solution instead. Whether he liked it or not… He might find some solace in it, anyhow.
“You could come be a merchant with me, instead. As you’d planned. You’d be good for it,” You hummed, yet your heart wasn’t completely in it.
He could choose, now.
His voice was hesitant, though it seemed he’d like to humor the idea anyways, “You’d want me On your ship? What- Counting coins?”
The suggestion wasn’t incredible to you. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known how to craft or like he hadn’t been prepared for it, this whole time.
“Yes,” You confirmed, “Keeping stock… Making stock. Like you’d been trained.”
He looked down, “What if I refuse?”
You shrugged lazily, despite your earlier concern. Your purpose was not to cause upset, your goal not trouble. Your mind was far from a state where you could act in a completely serious manner, though your tone held the continued taste of formality.
“What about our… Engagement?”
“I suppose you have a choice,” You hummed you stretched without moving, arms muscles flexing, in place, satisfying a deep urge in your muscles to pull, like a washwoman, hands wrought with callouses after finishing a heavy load late into the frigid night, or a thick man, arms dusted with hair and sawdust as he braced his hands against his back and pushed, spine cracking like sharp rocks tapping into each other after being kicked and flat stones being rubbed against one another by the light, clumsy hands of a child.
You’d nearly lost your words, the subject of your conversation fading like gentle thoughts from a fuzzy mind, faint and lost under a sea of buzzing evening pleasure.
“You remember what I gave you last time?” Hiccup asked, after a long moment, in which your head had nearly dropped back as far as it would go, your arms nearly falling limp.
It took you another very long moment to recall.
“The knife or the coin?” You murmured, voice sluggish, eyes closed, “They were nice souvenirs.”
You shifted as you finally looked up, turning towards your fiance with half-lidded eyes and a contented smile.
His expression went from stiff with slight worry to a melted caring.
“Here’s another,” He handed you a cool piece of metal with hesitant hands, yet they were not at all shaking. No apprehension, as they had held the last time you spoke, gone as he’d somehow found a way to grow into himself.
You weren’t sure what the purpose of it was. Was it a promise? Payment for your time?
You hummed and leaned closer, forehead dropping onto his shoulder ever as you pulled your fingers weakly shut around the coin, nuzzling into the fur of his coat; You’d already been in close proximity, so there was no thought expended in the action, especially as the barriers you’d shared had been weakly drifting aside, moving further and faster as you’d spent the day together.
The light outside was yellow but somewhat waning, still bright enough to shine through the skin of your lids.
I’ll think about it,” He said and you murmured amused nonsense, half furrowing your brows as your eyelids weighed ever heavier with drowsiness, fur hairs tickling and grazing at your brows, “I’m sure. I really wouldn’t be good for it.”
You closed your eyes, breathing softly as he spoke.
You decided that there was nothing more to do, to be active or attentive for, and you were very content after such a long day spent together.
“It’s fine… You’d learn it well, eventually,” You spoke, muffled into his sleeve as your head bobbed further down.
You’d been on the boat’s deck, performing your duty early in the morning since just before the night-darkness turned to morning-darkness, so you were tired. You were one of the earliest awake, the job to navigate to this location one that the others deemed to be your responsibility.
“Are you alright?” Hiccup asked, suddenly.
“I’m just tired.” You said, tilting your head ever so slightly and blinking drowsily up at him.
He looked at you as if he’d been startled, leaning away slightly in a way that caused you to fall forward and look up further, your chin resting on his arms. His mouth was curled to the side slightly just as it was a smidge open, the full range of his pupil visible, an expression you took in with heavy amusement.
Your fingers tugged at his sleeves ever so gently as you sort of righted yourself; it wasn’t like he hadn’t ever seen your face before.
He smiled, shifting yet somehow closer, bridging the gap between him and you, pressing shoulder against shoulder and teasing your slightly cold fingers with his warm ones.
Later, you would be found messily laying atop each other, sleeping like sunbathing animals, just before the last hints of light faded from the sky. All was well.
You took your busted tooth, strung on twine, and dropped it around his neck.
“You’re weird,” Hiccup said fondly and awkwardly, looking downwards.
You patted his arm.
You supposed, to him, you would be a bit of an odd one.
“Some other people would find it special,” You hummed, knowing the reaction it would rise out of him, “Aren’t you supposed to find it lucky?”
You knew there were some norsemen who kept their teeth with pride, though the tradition was not necessarily one of yours. It may not have been one of Hiccup’s, either.
“I’m not wearing this,” Hiccup warned, “...All the time.”
“I know you’ll keep it close,” You hummed slyly.
Thankfully, only a few things had gone sour, and none of the backs that had been stabbed had been yours. None from your group within a group of merchants. Your hold was a few crewmates lighter, though that served you just as well, the scales in a pouch by your hip more than making up for the loss in your eyes.
You could never stay longer than a few days, yet you made the most of it, knowing that it could be a while before you’d see him again; perhaps not a year or two, as it had been the last time you’d been off. At least, you’d found yourself hoping not.
You pressed a soft peck to his mouth, which felt a bit odd given it was still slightly open, then pulled back and waited, trying to gauge his reaction.
You were met with pleased surprise, a mouth half-open with a smile.
Then you brushed off your poncho as you stood at the docks, those behind you getting ready to leave.
Men carried chests aboard your smallish home, full of food and wood and other things, traded for luxuries and good stories.
Though the number of Vikings at the docks was few, you were still cautious, leaning closer to him.
There was not so much fanfare as when you arrived, and though you spent very much time together, you felt as if there was still a distance between you and the rest of the people and things involved in his life.
“You could still come with me,” You whispered into his ear mischievously.
Hiccup rolled his eyes as you pulled back, an amused smile on both your lips, his, once again, slightly more surprised than your own.
You didn’t particularly expect him to take you seriously, his quick smile morphing into a puzzled frown.
“Who will take charge after, though? Everyone expects me to- especially now that I’ve…”
You pondered his dilemma vaguely- they must have had a solution, someone who was assumed to take the place in line behind his father. If Hiccup was to be married off to you, the chance that he was in line at all in the first place was the punchline of a joke.
There must have been some solution- and with his ascension, some political strife among his father’s subjects.
“Make them choose a council,” You said offhandedly, bringing one hand further upwards to squeeze his shoulder, “Vote for it. Some of the larger groups-guilds- do it.”
You both knew you weren’t referring to any Vikings. At least none of the ones your fiance knew of.
You knew the Romans did something similar, though bringing it up with him now would more than likely sour the mood. The Vikings and the Romans… A troublesome rivalry. You were not quite sure how that worked, given the Berkians’ confinement to the Archipelago.
They probably seemed to be more a group of banded pirates than a civilized society to the Berkians.
“It would be better to have someone closer to their own issues in charge, anyways,” You sighed contemplatively.
The hairs on the back of your neck were prickling, a second sense ringing, honed over years of travel and a few harrowing moments where you had been nearly abandoned by your crew in foreign land after a sudden need to fly.
You were all too aware as the last few of your crewmates shambled up the ramp and into your boat.
“Huh?” Hiccup said dumbly, in a way that felt slightly foolish and in a way that did not follow what you had come to expect from him or suit him at all.
“The common folk. It’s easier to divvy up chores when there’s a group vote. Your father doesn’t have a council?” You asked, as Hiccup grabbed your hands, entwining your fingers.
Even the most solitary king had an advisor or two.
You drew out the moment farther than you would have perhaps allowed in any other situation, never allowing yourself to be in a state where you’d be left behind, not since you were unbelievably young and ignorant to the measures and numbers that could be calculated with just a hand. The others were not at all sympathetic to the ones who’d not been at the boats in time for departure.
“I’ll deal with it later,” Hiccup said unsurely, eyes glancing off to the side, before focusing back onto you.
His look was shared in a way that promised a few more goodbyes, yet a call from the ramp leading up to your ship had drawn your attention away from him.
“Yes… Until next time,” You placed one last press of lips against his cheekbone, half over his eye, before lowering from your toes and gently allowing your fingers to release from his own.
It was all very sudden.
You’d not heard of anyone else who rode a dragon- no one with a dragon quite so dark and devilish.
It had to be his, black as a bat, that was quickly approaching you from the sky, which you’d previously thought to be a seabird, shocking given that they never traveled this far out to sea.
You didn’t run, balk or hide as he approached, sure and confident in him as you were in the standing of your engagement, despite the time that passed; until he’d given his word, it was still standing, though you supposed that could be what he’d tracked you down to discuss.
He came looking for you.
His dragon swooped downwards, wings outstretched like a hawk going in for the kill, dropping against the deck with a bounce and a run, the force of it causing your boat to tilt to the side.
You’d never seen it up close and in person before, leather and scale hide dark as night, tinted blue as the sky nearly always was.
Astride its back was most definitely a man, just reaching the cusp between teenhood and adulthood, shaped in a way that was slightly different yet altogether recognizable.
Quicker than any stallion could approach, his mount bounded towards you, blowing in your direction just nearly as fast as the sea wind blew through your scalp, growing suddenly larger until he was up in your face, and then swept half past you.
With the momentum left over from his landing and a grunt, he was able to hook his arm around your waist and pull you up, half spinning you and pulling you up onto the seat of his saddle and over his dragon.
Quickly, your lips met, him dipping his head just slightly even as you were pulled onto the saddle with him, laughing joyfully and with slight startle, wondering what you’d done to enjoy such a passionate embrace.
You weren’t sure where he’d found the strength within those wiry limbs, though you guessed there had to be much more under peachy skin than you originally assumed.
“I didn’t mean for it to be so long,” You murmured, examining the face which had to most definitely belong to your fiance.
You hadn’t the opportunity; this ship wasn’t under your command, after all, or any, and so you were still to bend to the whims of the majority, unable to fulfill the requirements of your duty, though when you could, you made sure to stick close to the Archipelago.
In the years since you’d last seen him, he’d definitely grown taller, now donning brown leather, pressed into a scaled pattern. His jaw had sharpened and you could see a nice pair of cheekbones, previously hidden under waning baby fat.
“I’ll stop by whenever you need,” Hiccup said, almost pleading, with easy acceptance as he brought up his other hand, previously clutching at one of the leather saddle handles under you, now holding your face.
His knuckles ran down your neck gently, before he lifted it and settled his palm down for a run down your side, parallel to his other.
It was an aweing display of affection, one you supposed you should come to expect if he’d be pushing the limits of your relationship every time you met, something you once again found you weren’t quite against.
You blinked at him, eyelashes brushing against his in a mock display of affection.
You could not hide how you had been thrown off, and yet you couldn’t help the light feeling inside of your chest or the curling of the corners of your mouth that followed, in great contrast to the bitter shouting and disgruntled grumbling of your crewmates working the ropes,
displeased by the shaking of the ship.
“I’ll expect you more often, then,” You hummed, nearly sung, conceding to his affections as your noses touched, your hand casually tugging at a leather strap, the one traveling half the length of his chest like a cut sash.
He wasn't the only one who had changed some; time had made you easier, more relaxed in a few varied ways.
You returned his embrace easily, like one of two love birds or as you’d seen a few tree-crawling animals do during your travels, tails curling and twining together in a universal expression of joy, limbs wrapping around the other as if to convey the extent of their devotion through proximity.
You could feel the bumps and ridges in the leather he wore through your own tunic’s fabric, stomach pressed flush to his torso.
You were sure he’d fly you back to the ship before they’d gotten far, but that would all be done later.
You had brought and held a scant few of your things, still impressed that he’d flown to you this time.
You stood over a clearing, packed, dry dirt surrounded by saturated green grasses over a cool clifftop, a wide open, empty space
Along the sides, Hiccup’s companions also lounged, draconic and not. You paid them little attention, and as such they seemed largely disinterested in turn, though a few jeers exposed the novelty of your interaction.
His traveling group consisted of who you assumed to be the same few teens you’d seen on Berk, the ones he’d taken to referring to in passing.
You’d never come to have known them. You’d not even held a conversation the one time you’d been by them at the docks at fifteen winters. You’d not heard enough of them to truly make a space for you to remember them in your recollections, though a few disjointed names floated along the tip of your tongue.
You couldn’t imagine Hiccup was anything but practical when you were gone, or that you existed as anything but a topic not thought of or spoken much about, though nothing was sure as you had to confess that you hadn’t known your fiance as well as you had liked.
You supposed you’d have to get acquainted somewhat further if you were going to be visiting more often now that your husband-to-be was more inclined to go after you than wait for you to return to his home.
“We were planning on… Settling somewhere, exploring a bit,” then Hiccup grumbled under his breath, “is this where you’ve been, all this time?”
You laughed under your breath, arms locked over his shoulders and around his neck in an embrace, enjoying the sun on your face and the day breeze against your nose, “There are a great deal more places outside the archipelago.”
“There are more places outside the archipelago?” He seemed surprised.
You brought one foot back to rub at your ankle and wrinkled your nose at him with amusement; if he hadn’t believed that, then why had he left his little island?
He probably had, but you couldn’t call him anything less than naive, even if he was wise in other ways.
Though… you could see very well that his inexperience would bloom into something else given the right amount of time.
“Of course. Where do you think I’d gone all these years? There are no fjords as beautiful as the ones I’ve known here, or waves nearly half as big as the ones I’ve lived past,” You declared calmly, parroting him.
“I thought those were just… Stories,” Hiccup proposed, eyes darting to the side.
“Not at all,” Your lips curled with amusement.
Some had been exaggerated, maybe, by consequence of your thoughtlessness, too busy or perhaps lazy to recount the story in full, but many if not most had been spoken with words as true as you could make them.
“You’ve no sense of adventure?” You asked, listening to the twittering and rustling of the wind and other living things through the grasses.
“I need to bring it into practice more often,” Hiccup said, determinedly, pupils focused on you, “I’ll probably get to, now.”
“There’s not much to keep besides,” You said, looking down at your belongings softly, the small, warped and dented dull knife and the sharper, more refined but not yet perfect dagger, “But I kept them.”
They lay in a shallow wooden box, a simple one that you’d had since childhood, old and not worth anything. So, it had been something you could hide things away in for yourself and no one would mind.
It was incredibly sentimental for you, your thumb running over a slightly chipped child’s knife handle, remembering how you carried it around for seasons as you had been sure it was your duty to, a representation of your loyalty and dedication to your exchange.
You pulled yourself up from your crouch, bringing your hand back to your side, turning back.
“You really did, huh?” Your husband-to-be looked at you with sensitive eyes, prosthetic creaking and boot padding against the wood floor as he moved towards you, movements slow in a way that you could only describe as incredibly soft, perhaps too much so, for an interaction you primarily interpreted as casual.
At least, that’s what you told yourself.
As you’d grown familiar again, Hiccup went to seek you out with more frequency, though he didn’t always find you, not right away.
He’d gone through many, many adventures yet still somehow found time for you, when he wasn’t off fighting for his life and his dragons’, though it had been a week or two since the last you’d seen him.
You furrowed your brows, looking to the side with your own softening eyes, running a tired hand down the side of your face, “Would you rather I have not?”
“No,” Your fiance returned, though you had the slight suspicion that he hadn’t heeded your words at all, “This is good. It’s- It’s a good thing.”
You shifted slightly to your left to compensate for the slow tilting of the ground below you, leather spines falling against one another as their center of gravity changed.
The shelves built into the walls of your cabin came with a few novels stored, some more worn than others, all with a few loose pages that you’d worked hard to earn, buy, hide and, on the rare occasion, had pettily stolen, carried from dock to dock as merchandise, though your reason for having them was much more selfish.
During your travels, for many years, you’d wanted for things to do in your free time.
Some were written in multiple languages, some in just one, groups separated by carved tablets, held still by strings nailed across most of your shelving, so that they would not fall over during the rougher storms.
Most of them you would end up selling along with a few other odds and ends that carried, posed on your shelves in a way you felt added to the mystique, some of them booby trapped so that anyone wandering that might have found their way down from the deck wouldn’t be leaving with a full hand.
The more important things you kept hidden. The fancier gifts lay in secret compartments all around your room, some stuck into the hollow covers of hard-bound books, sewn and nailed together by your own hand. Your old, shallow tray always lay hidden in a shallow compartment in your desk.
Speaking of gifts…
“Take these back with you,” You said, nodding to your side, where lay an array of multicolored, expensive perfume, shelved in neatly packaged rows, stoppers held still by a wooden frame, multicolored glass bodies of different, polished shapes exposed below for display.
Cheap gems lay by it along the dark-stained wood, some of your knicknacks, nothing that would earn you coin or food or any of the resources you would need to travel if you’d tried to sell it in its country of origins, some dyed, pigment laying heavy in some visible cracks in multicolored faces.
You handed him a map as well, many times transcribed and copied by your own hand, taken down from your wall earlier after some further thought, held in its roll by a leather strap and a carefully pressed wax seal.
He might enjoy that one more.
You eyed Hiccup admiringly in your most private inner sanctum.
It was good to have someone else in your corner, someone by you- a small comfort, what with the commotion above deck. The thought of it caused the hairs on the back of your neck to prickle.
A few days before, you’d interjected at the wrong moment during a heavy argument over an already tense episode.
You’d felt malicious eyes on your back ever since, and your paranoia had been spiking, chills like thorns against your nape. You were worried that your position on board was precarious and you would fall victim to the sabotage you’d always just borne witness to.
The chances of them trying something now, with your fiance around, were much lower.
“Perfume?” Hiccup asked, unimpressed and a little upset as, from a distance he inspected your shelves, one of his hands outstretched in order to grab the rolled-up map as you passed it to him.
Your fingers slid smoothly against Hiccup’s as yellowed paper passed from your hands in a way that you could only describe as sensual.
You knew the scents were ill-suited. The gift had been a suggestion by another, something to keep up the pretense of a healthy engagement. It had been a while since you’d been dutiful, in that sense.
You’d listened, but only because you knew your fiance had been carrying the burden of your relationship for a while. It seemed terribly inconvenient for your valiant to-be to have to come and try to find you each time.
He’d found you this time as you’d been traveling down to Knaff, last you had checked, but that had been days ago. The seas around you now, though, were unusually bumpy for the typically calm fishing region. It was much colder here, wherever you were.
The ship groaned slightly under you, wood crackling, sound reverberating deeply as the vessel moved in near half a rotation.
At one point, you considered splitting off with some of your other crewmates, onto a different ship, where you’d be afforded more freedom. It would provide you with more of the freedom to visit with your fiance.
Though- the idea of traveling away from the one place you’d stuck by since you were a very, very small child- you’d been born on another ship, though you hadn’t seen that one since you’d been three or five- it was a daunting idea, and one that would ultimately bring more harm than good.
You had been slowly working your way up the ranks, taking more charge and responsibility over the deck and under it. To leave- you’d have to fight tooth and nail to ensure you kept some level of authority.
You had to fight for the right to your own room.
You shed your overcoat, dropping it along the top half of your chair, the one poised in front of your desk, papers ordered neatly and in a way that would prevent them from sliding off the top, quill and ink bottle also secured into a carved, shallow hole in the corner of it.
You were born into the life of a traveling merchant and there you would stay. And, if it came down to it, you knew you wouldn’t stay grounded. A life wondering was much less terrible than a life shackled to land.
Jumping ship now seemed to be the wrong move, especially at a time when your fiance had a flying, fire-breathing dragon free for his own fast-traveling use. However, if you had your own way into the sky… Or, if he’d like to lend you his, well, you couldn’t toss that idea completely.
“I did not pick it out,” You grumbled eventually, voice low in case your voice carried past the wall, where you could hear the quiet, packed groaning and shifting of your crewmates, off duty, “You’ll like the other one more. Give the scents to your other secret girlfriend.”
You would have to find a way to compensate for his efforts, to return the formality, in other ways.
Shadows danced and lingered moodily, filling the room with something that was nearly occult, your way lit by glass-covered candles with holes along the front as your ship rocked slowly, evening turning to true night.
Of course it was dark and dim in your cabin at the end of your small hall, your room wide yet inconvenient in the event the ship started to flood, or went down, with no exit holes or doors to provide any extra light.
Hiccup started, stepping towards you in his startlement, speaking quietly as he was reminded by the low tone of your voice to keep his down too, “Secret girlfriend?”
There was another chair in the direction you strode, further obscured by shadow, though a small candle lay in that same area, your dull sandy green-gray poncho already dropped over its wooden top.
It was completely opposite to the side of your room that held Hiccup, shelves to his back and lining the wall all the way up to your small, boarded wooden door on one side, stopping just before the place which had had your cot in the corner.
That one was a soft bed with no frame, a world of difference from the hammock lining the other rooms in this ship, held in place by a shallow border not unlike the kind farmers cultivated that lined shallow beds of herbs and flowers.
You stopped your striding once you reached your small changing area, hooking your fingers under worn, slightly dirtied fabric with a displeased twitch of your lips, lifting and pulling it aside until it rested on the very edge of your chair in one smooth, neat motion.
It revealed white fabric, folded over twice and hanging under where your poncho previously lay.
“The Hofferson girl,” You rolled your eyes unseriously. You’d heard the rumors, yet hadn’t taken them seriously.
The tips of your fingers teased the white fabric, a classic wool, contrasting against scarring on your hands from working the ropes, before you pulled it up and hung it over one arm, embroidered hems shifting at the motion like a fine curtain in front of an open window, slightly billowing as you turned.
You ran quick fingers down a smooth frame to your side, ready to hook your fingers underneath it and pull.
“Astrid?” Hiccup asked, startled, “No- We’re not-”
“You’re not?” You attempted a tease as you turned your attention fully towards the door, though your fiance looked much too puzzled to have caught on to your jest. You also did not joke very often- and therein may have laid the problem.
“I mean, maybe I thought about it once, when I was, like, ten… But, no-! I mean…”
You did not take offense to the suggestion- you had sort of expected the topic to show face eventually.
You pulled lightly on the door’s frame, listening to the roll and scrape of wood against wood as you pulled its screen across the room and between both you and Hiccup, light dancing oddly through the paper and slightly muffling any sound coming from the other side.
You had not been coached on how to respond to the topic of a straying eye any more than you’d been coached in the art of body language and petty subterfuge. However, you were confident in your ability to navigate the conversation.
You learned, of course, that for others, it was quite natural for the mind to wander, as long as the hands stayed put. In a situation such as yours where the pairing was born more from duty and obligation than choice, you could not shame him for the thought.And he’d been only a child, at that.
It was hardly a breach of contract.
You released your hand on the pull out door standing half-open on one side of you.
You were far from the ship’s darling- you had argued with the others for the privilege of having that door. One man was under the fool impression that it would upset the balance of the boat, as if his goods-hoarding on the other side hadn’t done enough damage on its own.
“You never thought about anyone else?” Hiccup asked, as you tugged on the bottommost hem of your tunic, your belts long since discarded.
You considered his words, pausing for a moment. You hadn’t many other options, in terms of folks to ogle at.
The thought -not quite that one, but a similar one- had come to you on a day when you’d been working the sails, hands wrapped around the ship’s ropes, sleeves rolled up past your elbows. You didn’t believe it -of course, this arrangement had been made less willingly on his part than yours, so it came as a surprise, to you, the idea that he might have thought of you at all, when you’d been gone, yet you knew he kept your tooth in his belt.
He’d called you odd for giving it to him, once, but- You’d found him to be much more of an ‘oddball.’
You tongued the empty socket, which had grown much shallower and thinner as your gums had healed.
“No,” You said, face blank, though you were sure he could not see it, especially as you pulled your tunic upwards, largely distorting your shadow, “I am engaged.”
You knew from experience that on the other side, your shirtless form would cast a shadow against the opposite wall through the decorated paper face of your sliding wall, matching the outline of a rip on just one side, just above a carefully embroidered branch of flowers, a faulty import which you’d fixed with some thread and a needle.
You’d spent hours warning others away -children and the busy adult folk- in case the distraction caused you to poke your eye out, the bobbing of the ship making your predicament all the more dangerous.
You listened to the heavy shifting of your own fabrics, not intending to leave Hiccup to stew in silence and yet that was what happened all the same.
Offhandedly and without intention, you’d been listening, and what you heard could perhaps have been a swallow or a noise coming in strongly from the other room or up from the groaning wood. Maybe it was something that had traveled through the walls from the outside, the pouding of footsteps above heavy.
You watched in your periphery as your shadow stretched and bowed against transparent, casting paper as you dropped your tunic to the seat of your chair, half bare form dancing with the tiny flame on your other side in a way you might have likened to some type of poetry had you been focused on it at all.
Then, once again you felt at the frame to one side of you, hooking your fingers around its side.
You revealed yourself, your sliding door sticking slightly as you pushed it back aside, yet you kept your eyes down as, with one thumb, you traced the seam along one of your sides.
You felt your hand through the fabric, probing and dull, sliding down to just below your waist, your eyes looking down all the while in order to make sure it lay correctly over the nearly invisible hem of your trousers underneath.
Then you lifted your head.
Your fiance had paused, his hand grazing against the top of your desk on the opposite side of your room.
As you looked up at him, you registered a mouth parted slightly and your eyes focused on the slight shift of his Adam's apple.
His own eyes seemed interested, curious, focused on your gown and its hem, which reached low. Lower than you were used to, in a way that reminded you of a dream you’d had once about white child’s robes and tiny brown-haired boys.
“How does it look?” You asked, arms splayed out slightly.
“What’s the, uh-” Hiccup laughed nervously, low and under his breath, hand leaning heavy against your desk chair, other palm running through his hair, “The white for?”
“You may not be thinking of it yet, but we are of marriageable age,” You insisted, “ Once you decide what to do -in spite of whatever you choose- I need to have a presentable wardrobe.”
“What- What?”
“The point of our engagement -any engagement- is marriage, dear future husband of mine,” You grumbled, “Unless you intend to break it off?”
Hiccup stumbled forwards slightly as the boat rocked particularly roughly.
Some incredibly muffled shouting from above deck sounded finally through the wood, a sure sign that his dragon above was wreaking havoc.
He would need to attend to it, soon, as you would other things. Wedding preparations were a far off thought, fallen to the wayside until you once again expressed the need to check to see if things were still in order.
“No! No- no, not at all,” Hiccup said, waving his hands around in front of him, “I just don’t know if I’m… ready.”
It was inevitable, the choice he’d have to make- you weren’t sure what kinds of reassurances you could offer him.
You could say that you would keep him safe, that you would mind him well as you’d prepared for most of your life, but it was clear that that wouldn’t be needed any longer. Really, with his dragon, he would be the one doing the minding.
You knew that, in his home, a grand-looking sword hung on the wall which was meant for you, as you'd been made to know by reading between the lines. It was a sword made for marriage, and it had been made by Hiccup, apparently, though you knew he was surely much too young at fifteen summers to make some of the detailing on the handle anywhere near as fine.
And yes- the thought hit you with little fanfare- ‘Summers’ seemed a more appropriate term to measure him by, anyways. He was eighteen summers. It felt righter than eighteen winters, though that was the standard unit of measure, here.
Really, Hiccup was very… Alive.
You rolled your eyes, “I will be prepared for when you are.”
Maybe he was not the most passionate or violent, but he felt- Well, you saw he could be combative and he had wants that you recognized. He was not the warmest but he was very warm, compared to you, and he indulged in contact frequently when the situation deemed it appropriate. You had to say he did, in fact, embody those traits more so than most, as you’d known them.
You examined Hiccup’s roiling expression, leaning to the left side as the ship leaned particularly hard to the right.
You were only slightly surprised when your fiance spoke, ready to turn away and put your casual clothes back on, with or without his approval, “You wouldn’t… Leave? I know whatever we have was just…” A contract. An exchange. You were familiar with the concept.
He had a way with words, too, that made you feel slightly as if you could be warm as well. He was, in a way, like the summer to your fleeting winter. So, he was nineteen summers, perhaps, or maybe twenty. Numbers tended to change when you altered the unit of measure.
You were about the same number of winters, now. Whether that made you all the more fitting for each other or whether or not it was the first indication of the inevitable failure of your engagement had remained to be seen.
“A deal’s a deal. However, ties are easily cut- Should you have been found lacking at any time, and I had measured my worth differently, I would have left,” You grumbled, “I am satisfied with our arrangement.”
After a while of silence, your fiance spoke again.
“I guess I am, too,” Hiccup said, striding quickly over the few feet parting the two of you, hooking an arm behind your waist as if to feel you out in your new garments, pulling you flush to him, his belts and straps pressing into your skin in a way that felt quite natural.
You looked into your fiance’s eyes. The folds below seemed slightly deeper, the coloring underneath darker than they should have been had he been rested, his grip slightly weaker than it had been earlier when he had seemed more wakeful.
You would, too, head to bed soon. It was much too late for him to fly back alone, so late at night, you thought. You wondered if he would sleep besides you this night?
You smiled.
Your frantic, all-consuming panic quickly broke into anger.
The sleep that had been spirited away from you as you had been accosted in the middle of the night then crept dangerously up against your back, weighing your lids, luring you towards a thick, minacious rest.
You’d ground your teeth weakly, fluttering your eyelids as you fought yourself back into wakefulness.
They had tried to kill you- and even worse, they had tried to steal your fiance’s Fury. They had no idea what sort of boundaries they had crossed, political and otherwise.
It was an idiot move- to cross an island full of bloodlusted clansmen with dragons.
They knocked you overboard into the water as you slept, tossing a few things out after you into the bobbing bergs and fractured ice below, which you had to soldier through, hauling up the nearly completely hollow chest, holding what number of your belongings you could muster.
You could never go back after such a betrayal, even if every single member of your ship was meticulously picked off and skinned.
You cursed, nose wrinkling and face morphing into an expression you thought must be ugly as you stared angrily into the opaque white and transparent ice walls, displaying long-since sealed over pockets.
What had they even been planning to tell Stoick the Vast- were they just going to say his heir had died? Been thrown overboard as they had taunted as they sailed away?
They couldn’t be so foolish as to think they could get away with it. They would all die.
Your nails hurt, fingers stiff with cold. The flesh and skin over their bone worked against you, sluggish and unmoving, numb, feeling more akin to an obstruction than a real part of your body.
The lightest layer of flakes, powdered on top of the harder packed snow beneath had been long since displaced by you.
They had Toothless muzzled, his fin ripped to shreds, wrapped tight with rope, leather hanging in scraps from his back, yet he had been too wriggly and too violent to hold and sell as they had planned.
You were stuck inside a hollow cave of ice in a glacier, the entrance looking more like a wide crack in the side than a smooth hole.
Toothless’ knocking around had trapped you and had also provided you shelter against the elements in a world where you couldn’t conceive of anything but ice, above and below.
The black dragon was outside the collapsed ice tunnel, side pressed to the exit as he scratched at his muzzle made of leather, not as sturdy as it could have been, already just beginning to give under his ripping claws.
It was much easier for you to make him out when he’d been scrabbling at the walls along the clearer side of the small enclave. Now, he was a fuzzy, filled outline behind ragged gouges, half obscured by fallen, white ice boulders.
He would be fine.
Dragons had an inner fire about them, a simmer that kept them hot even naked in the frigid winterland your fiance called home.
You were too incensed and bare to do much of anything but shake, your senses fading and your skin discolored by the cold, huddled in the snow as it was packed beneath you.
You’d been through harsh weather before, though you had always been donned in the most appropriate outerwear and all your practice south had meant that you were more accustomed to the heat than cold.
It was incredibly difficult to find Berk in the winter months as the ocean froze your way- You had never experienced something like this before. The archipelago was something different. Even if you’d wanted to wear the proper clothes, there was no doubt that they had scalped your living quarters already.
You were afraid your lips were blueing, yet your silent fury kept you active; awake, alive.
Now, you were nearly completely bare. It was cold, and you were not as strong against the icy weather as Hiccup was, fine even in just his thin tunic and what bits of his leather armor he could salvage.
At least you were hidden.
“I can’t-” Hiccup said, incensed, voice echoing slightly across the enclosed space, positioned directly across from you on the other side.
Hiccup was, of course, stuck with you. He wasn’t rendered anywhere near as inept, adapted to the cold. He spent his time fruitlessly grinding at the frigid ice blocking the entrance to the cave.
Nearly invisible beneath his fist was the tiny knife he’d made you years and years before, one of the very few things you’d been able to salvage, that you’d searched and wanted for.
With a rough sigh, he gave up, standing from his half-crouch as if your gaze beckoned him away, his prosthetic barely giving under hsi weight as it, too, probably felt the harsh freeze of winter.
“Are you alright?” Hiccup asked, voice conveying his exhaustion yet burdened by not much more than his aching arms. He was probably well practiced in the hard art of withstanding winter storms.
You took a real look at him for the first time since you’d been thrown overboard, past your own heavy eyelids, a slight appreciation for him blooming behind the rage you felt, not nearly enough to blow the other emotion over but something you could reach if you felt for it.
For a while, you’d seen more and known more- at least that’s what you thought.
You’d wondered when he’d grown up, if in another life you would have gotten to see him change from boy to man up close
What he lacked in relative size, he was able to manage in presence, a conviction so interwoven into his stance and actions it must have carried into his very blood. It was in a way you thought you might only ever see from his Dad, ever as he lay crouched over the blocked cave exit, scratching away at it with near fruitless efforts.
“I’m-m,” You attempted to voice, though what you wanted to say was a mystery even to you- you wanted to voice your thanks, maybe, for accompanying you up to this point, where you might’ve very well died. For not focusing all of his attentions on his dragon in the snow, who could have most quickly flown him away, even if it would have left you freezing dead in the broken white.
Frustratingly, you found your tongue wouldn’t move as you wanted, feeling like an extra lump of bumpy meat in your mouth as the ice below remained sapping away at your heat, cold like spikes hiking up the flesh of your thighs.
You sighed roughly yet shakily, “I’m well.”
Hiccup paused for a moment, staring at you.
You kept close to your only heat source, held up from the barely melting snow below by a small, fat carved block of stone; a tiny fire started using a few things that hadn’t gotten too damp, mostly wood.
You wanted to shift in the slush, yet you knew if you did, you would feel its bite even more intensely. There was nothing but ice and blue all around you.
You weren’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to you before, but you had half a mind to stand up and get out of the cold.
You jerked but you found you couldn’t get up, hands feeling stuck to your elbows, arms frozen to arms.
You then sighed forcefully, waveringly. Whiningly.
“Wait- It’s fine,” Hiccup said, moving -stumbling- towards you instead as your shallow breathing echoed throughout the small enclave with worrying volume, “I’ll just-”
He leaned down and touched your shoulder slowly, chilled fingers leaving small bits of ice and a slight, barely-felt trail of water behind.
As if you had been finally granted permission, your body let out a hard shutter, the kind that made you flex your jaw as you were wrought with spasms.
You could feel his arm jump, though the feeling wasn’t as tense and raw as you supposed it should have been.
“You’re cold,” Hiccup said, startled. His voice was tinged with worry.
“An-nd,” You wheezed, speaking concedingly, “Tired.”
“Come here,” He said.
You were able to manage a shift, though you had a hard time tracking what came next as he settled behind you, your eyes closing even as you kept your head up, and you were lost in the blackness and the fuzziness of a drowsy half-sleep.
When your eyes had found themselves open again -by some thoughtless miracle, you were sure- Hiccup was behind you, his own arms circled over your own arms, stuck around your knees.
His prosthetic, still tied to his leg, was positioned away from you, cold metal held a few measures further away than it would have been had he let his leg lie naturally. The metal portion by the very end was nearly completely hidden in the snow.
Your head bobbed heavily as your muscles periodically gave in, a few sharp commands from your waning mind the only thing keeping your head from falling all the way down and you from losing your wits and falling to slumbers.
You’d never felt your head so heavy before.
Hiccup leaned forwards and rested his own head against you, albeit probably unintentionally -at least, as you’d assumed- burying his nose behind your ear.
“Are you… Are you awake?” He asked, his voice louder to your ears than it had been before, even as its tone was gentle and as your senses were dull to most everything around you.
Hiccup was hot. His skin on yours felt like burning, a dulled version of the feeling of skin teasing boiling water or glancing off glowing red metal, and yet you found yourself drawn to it deeply.
You let out a little noise that could have been a sigh as he pulled closer, scooting inwards.
A few clumps of slough were pushed up and trapped between you as he did, yet you couldn’t find the words to complain, not when he was so kind.
“...I am-m.”
You weren't sure when and how many times you’d nearly drifted off before that moment, humming and grunting disjointedly, everything out of rhythm like an instrument out of time, though you tried to take in your fiance’s voice.
As your vision blurred and you focused in and out of your surroundings, you felt more than registered a dull noise that must have been a loud… something.
You’d probably not be able to feel anything more specific than an all-encompassing chill, and through your troubles, it took you a while to realize that Hiccup was speaking, again.
“...-When we get out of this, you could leave with me… or stay. Whatever you want,” Hiccup suggested honestly.
You opened your mouth, but had to pause. It- what he had been saying… It sounded important.
Yes- Was he talking about… The Archipelago, or his smaller Edge home? The others talked about moving back to Berk sometimes…. and with everything that had happened recently- you couldn’t remember what… It seemed he would be going back soon, anyways. It felt right enough.
It took you a moment, and a while of thinking, during which you must have been making a face, to come up with a somewhat worthy response.
“Yo-u’re going to run away?” You tried to huff, voice tinged with struggle and slur.
“No,” Hiccup said, “Maybe. I just can’t… With my Dad, and the Chiefdom-”
You pushed back into him as much as you could, shifting your shoulders as if you could press more of his heat into you if you’d leaned further into him.
“And it’s-” Hiccup seemed slightly frustrated, though the feeling wasn’t very potent, moreso subtle and said in a way that implied it was aimed towards a very distant thing, “I’m not running away. I just don’t want to do it.”
You tilted your head slightly to glance at him from the corner of your eye, grieving as he pulled his face further from the back of your head.
“I almost ran away once. For real,” He spoke like the confession rolled heavily off his tongue.
You felt a little cold at his admittance, a chill running down your spine. But…
“I thought I’d come here first… “ He murmured, his forehead touching your nape, “Well, not here- but I would try and convince you to come travel… with me, instead.”
“Hm-m?” You mumbled,
“I don’t… need it, if I have you. I think,” Hiccup looked down between you, nearly laughing under his breath, “You have enough stories to keep anyone’s thirst for adventure satisfied for life. I spent my life expecting to go with you- and now they want me to stay?”
He sighed heavily, “I can’t. I can’t. I- I want this.”
He had many more skills than the ones provided by being just a craftsman, now. It would be a pity to throw them all away, but if he didn’t want the life that they provided, then that couldn’t be helped
If you’d be blessed with the privilege, you would take him in with open arms, as you’d planned.
“The-en we’ll d-o-o it,” You mumbled with determination, though you were unable to keep the drag of the chill out of your voice, a sluggish stutter that halted your words.
“Hm?” Hiccup seemed slightly surprised
“I’m-m a merchant, Hiccup,” You closed your eyes, nearly cooing, “If-f you asked your Father- with his blessin-ng- Why would I ever nuh-not travel? …let’s go.”
It took you a long, long moment to speak that last bit.
“You mean it?” Hiccup asked, his voice tinged with a new, slight panic.
There was no buzzing, not yet, yet you were welcomed by the murderously slow nothing in your skin as if your limbs had fallen asleep and lost all feeling, everything above and below bone nothing but gummy padding.
You might have tried to press your nails past your skin if you could move your arms, to forcefully test if you really could feel nothing, a primitive, pointless experiment.
The loss, to you, was akin to the flavor of illness; feverish, yet the feeling wasn’t centered in your head, and it was more cold than not.
You struggled to keep up the facade of someone who still had their wits about them
“It’ll be-e… easy work,” You breathed, voice growing weaker by the moment, “We-e-e’d- …We will…. m-make it …happen.”
Satisfied with your answer and the incredible effort you expended in order to say it, you went completely silent.
Hiccup nosed methodically, pressing his mouth to the cartilage behind your lobe, providing you some minor reprieve, his hotter breath dancing over your earlobe and causing you to briefly close your eyes.
You exhaled a breath that must have been pleased, soundless without the energy to make any noise as you went limper.
Your fiance must have said something more but you couldn’t hear it well, consumed by the pleasant feeling of cold leaving your limbs, being sapped from you slowly by what felt like a slow crawl, a cold-hot tingle creeping up your meat, fingers and toes first.
You thought you should be hearing something else, your ears processing sound as if it all was like noise underwater; there was an all-encompassing loud, roaring something from somewhere, which seemed to reverberate around you as you lost track of life, head fuzzy and everything too bright and too neutral at the same time.
Dragon…?
You weren't sure when your eyes fell shut.
You became vaguely aware, floating into semi-consciousness as a light scraping sound filled your ears.
You crinkled your brows and pressed already closed lid together tightly until they hurt, turning over from where you lay flat on your back, pulling the crumpled, frayed end of a blanket with you.
You were aware to a degree of an indistinct radiation of heat to your side, closer to you now that you’d turned over a thin, unfamiliar plush floor, clearly placed over a hard bottom, which you could feel at your shoulder, where you now distributed the majority of your weight.
“Can you get it?” A tired, husky voice grumbled, bordering on nasal, slightly muffled by what must have been fabric.
You knew who it must have been after a moment of slugging processing.
“No, I’m not-... The,” You groaned, shifting under your end of the blanket, much too tired to sacrifice your nice, warm spot under the blanket, “Mmh-dragon master.”
“You’re the uh- dragon- dragon mastri- mistress…?”
You churred deep in your throat, a noise that was uncharacteristically animalistic at the ungainly title. It certainly didn't fit you, not by design.
“No, I am not. I am-” You sighed with displeasure, pursing your lips and furrowing your brows at the ridiculous moniker ,rubbing your face deeper into the thin pillow below your head. It was not nearly plush or comfortable enough to hold you comfortably, stiff in a manner which would most likely prove a problem later when your neck began to ache. However, “I am… Hm… Not… sleeping with them.”
You threw out your foot lazily, mind still pleasantly fogged.
Your vision was still dark as you refused to open your eyes, your movements clumsy as your depth perception was hindered, so the first few jerks of your leg bore no fruit.
Nonetheless, the flat of your foot found your silent fiance, applying a steady, weak pressure as it found its place and rested there.
“Aw- Wh-uh?” Hiccup said you made contact with him and the blanket above you began the shift and the brace of your legs against his back began to very slowly push him over, the muscles in his torso still too sleepy to work against yours.
You whined as Hiccup adjusted slowly, letting your legs fall, the sound of him shifting against fabric loud and grating to your ears.
After he settled, there were a few moments of blessed silence and overwhelming sleep, nearly allowing you to drift back off before the cursed scratching started up again.
“Toothless…” Hiccup ground out groggily.
Then, Hiccup’s unruly dragon started beating against wood, with what was most likely his large, leathery paw, the sound much louder now, door.
Even as his dragon kept making a racket and you struggled frustratedly to snuggle back into the thin, cheap plush below, you’d thought Hiccup had gone back to sleep.
You were still not past the point of turn, however, and had half a mind to do the same, despite the noise, until your fiance tried again, “You’re… sleeping with me…?”
“...‘m not a dragon,” You grumbled, voice breathy.
You felt very glad as you heard your fiance let out a strained groan, the shallow cot dipping and wood beneath him creaking as he must have finally gotten up
“Semantics,” Hiccup groaned as the extra blanketing fell half over your face.
You pulled it over your neck with a coo, even more so comfortable despite the scratchy, sack-like texture of its fabric.
It took you a moment to get up yourself, slowly punching yourself up and shifting until your bare feet touched cool wood, one hand pressed to the cot by your waist and the other rubbing off the crust at the corners of your eyes, listening to the shuffling around for your fiance in the dark room and the quiet grumbling and light-leavy steps of his stealthy dragon.
Eventually, once your eyes were clear and your head felt less sloggy, you looked around, eyes meeting the sturdily nailed sides of stacked wood crates to either side of you.
You weren’t sure how your fiance had kept the crates from falling and crushing you both in your sleep, if he had done anything at all. You prayed he had, even in his worried, threatened state.
Your room was a small area walled off by boxes arranged so that you had privacy and remained well hidden in a large storage chamber, piled high with boxes, mostly filled with weaponry.
All of the hold was wood. After a few days of only that, it was painful to your eyes.
You knew that soon, your fiance would be back from wherever he went with his dragon this time of day.
The events that had led you here- You didn’t remember much of them at all. Not how you got on board, though you knew at the time you had been fading in and out of consciousness, for a while a shivering cold castaway on a foreign ship, a bigger freighter than you had ever seen before.
You remembered flashes of Hiccup, the smooth, slivering form of his dragon below, and then you were inside somewhere.
You were still a bit colder than you should be still, but you had worn off whatever had kept you immobilized for so long. It had been a few days since then and you’d been suitably nursed back to health.
Now, you were surviving off of stolen jerky and exotic dried fruits.
If you were back on your ship, in this weather, you might have been scrambling to make sure you made it out of this situation alive. You hoped your former crewmates were plagued by lack of fresh water and scurvy, that they were struck down and suffered the most painful deaths.
You blinked groggily, slowly, your back hunched, before thinking better of it and dropping back onto the cot; there wasn’t much for you to do otherwise besides bear the chill of the day, not that you were at a point where you wanted to do anything else.
The cold wasn’t so bad aboard ship, though you hadn’t before related when the farmers spoke of sitting up to keep warm with their livestock in sleep, not until you’d experienced a winter as cold as this. You almost asked that Hiccup keep his dragon nearer, the smell of foul fish and flaking dragon leather the only thing keeping you from doing so.
There also wasn’t much to do but hide, so you fell into a casual daily rhythm; sit up, stay quiet, wait for Hiccup to return with his dragon in the morning and the evening, eat what he could scavenge, keeping cautious, restless and tense.
Just laying was something that was fine by you during most moments. There was a peace in it, even if it was sandwiched between times laden without. You wished the same relaxation on your fiance.
Your fiance never took off his prosthetic, even when it was clear you two were safe enough and alone. He was especially on edge, especially considering the cargo held on this ship.
You picked at the frayed old sleeve of your stolen coverings- Hiccup had found a large, warm coat for you, somehow, and some other clothes pieces which you’d spent most of your days huddled up in- bottom lids buzzing, and yet you found you were much too awake to sleep.
You heard his dragon before you heard him, aloft on its back, the subtle yet shifting creaking of wood and thick, almost inaudible padding of calloused leather against wood clear to your bored, practiced ears.
It was unlikely that anyone who didn’t know what they were looking for would hear, your fiance’s steed living up to its terrifying moniker.
There was a very light drop, the sound of a grinding spring and its bounce as his prosthetic beat against the wooden deck, muffled as he could make it.
You waited until Hiccup returned, which he did with little fanfare, seemingly emerging from the darkness seemingly emanating from the entrance to your small crate-stacked room.
The lines of his shoulders, drooped, and his limp arms spoke of his exhaustion as if he’d seen something quite unpleasant. To you, though, he did not seem nearly distraught enough for you to think he’d seen anything nearly as graphic as what you’d come to expect might lay in the other rooms.
It was more likely something else had come to haunt him as he was tending to his dragon.
As he reached the threshold of your cot once more, he turned quickly, bending and falling back against the cot, which shifted with a light puffing noise, cushioning his fall.
“Brought him to the bathroom,” He said in response to your curious eyes, voice stiff, “Not that there is one, here.”
As he crouched, his shoulders were too rigid for him to fall back with any sort of real give or bounce, a slight distention of the cot’s surface.
His breathing was measured, coming in evenly, the sound of it not nearly as deep as it would have been had he been filling his chest to its full capacity.
He’d discovered what sort of ship this was a while back; a dragon trapper’s barge, meaning your travels involved much more dread, danger and intrigue than you would have otherwise typically allowed for yourself.
There was a lot of stifled curiosity on the part of your fiance, a lot of action he couldn’t take, the two of you heavily reliant on this ship to reach freedom. Lying in wait seemed to go against most of his instincts, which you found particularly Vikingly.
However, you knew how to keep your head low and how to hide. It was a blessing you were already attuned to keeping quiet on a packed vessel. This one was traveling in an area you’d never been before. If patience was a virtue, you had plenty, and despite the danger, you were thankful to be alive.
You were thankful for your fiance and for his will to keep you so.
Still, you were incredibly aware of the occasional, barely audible crow and scratch from a place hidden a ways beyond the wooden walls all around, the same walls which kept out all light and had you guessing at the time of day, stuck deep in the bowels of this large ship.
There was the occasional conflict above deck, though they would always abate with startling quickness.
“What are we going to do?” You asked, laying by him, for lack of anything else to say, your hands folded over your stomach just over your blanket, pulled up to your mid-torso, “Today, I meant.”
“We’ll figure it out,” He said.
You knew, though, what might happen if you continued to say nothing.
You gently brought up your arm to the side, feeling for his wrist and holding it, the fabric of his sleeves wrinkling under your touch, much like the half of the blanket and the top layer of your cot on his side of your makeshift bed.
You slowly and carefully turned to your side, your movement invoking Hiccup’s own as he dropped his head towards you.
“We should leave, at the next night we’re able,” You murmured, “We can make our way back after. There may be enough here to fix your fin- and it wouldn’t hurt to wander. ...If, that is, you were serious. About the travel. I have to admit that I don't have many prospects…”
“If I wasn’t?” Hiccup paused, glancing at you, “...I didn’t realize you remembered any of that.”
Hiccup was just in his tunic, now. A worn, slightly dirtied red.
You’d spent a few nights, with your cheek pressed close to his, feeling the rougher scruff that was just beginning to sprout along his jaw, pushing out softer, peachier fuzz.
You weren’t sure what had happened to his leather. You knew it was gone before you’d seen his face the first time deep in the belly of this ship, hands clutching at fabric, fisting and pressing against the skin underneath.
You had debated pulling up close to him, if that would provide a balm to his twinging soul.
“Bits and pieces,” You admitted, nodding your assent, pushing your cheek into your pillow.
He was always cautious here, as was, you admitted to yourself, needed. You appreciated it, and as he was, so were you.
The stress of your situation, though, was clearly pulling him apart. You feared it may cloud his judgment and hurry his hand as you planned your escape from this ship.
You stared up at the ceiling, tall and long-off, incredibly dark as your fiance spoke. “I don’t know if I’d… fit. I mean, I’ve never known how, exactly, to… Negotiate, I guess.”
Your job, then, as you’d decided in that instant, would be to soothe him. Not that it was much of a job with nothing to entertain your mind.
You made your decision and sidled up closer to him until you were sure he could feel your heat against his skin.
He looked back at you with care.
“Half of it is the talk leading up to the trade,” You brushed it aside, speaking quietly, “It’s easier, with practice.”
“No, I know- ‘anyone can do it,’” Hiccup said disagreeably, as if he was quoting someone, turning onto his own side. His father, maybe. “I just…”
His adam's apple bobbed, eyes darting to the side, shadow falling tumultuously across his face, expressing wistful tales of islands and troubles you hadn't ever been quite as well versed in, used to relationships that were of more of a fleeting quality and bonds that were never quite as close as they could have been.
“Not anyone can do it.” You returned, voice soothing, “Not everyone has the eye.”
You hummed, not quite sure how to explain it, not in simple terms. Not quite sure that that was what he needed.
There was also a marked difference between negotiation the way he probably knew it, as the son of a Chief having most likely been coached on negotiating war treaties and other things, and the way you did it, speaking slyly and running circles around others using foreign words.
You shook your head lightly, a bit difficult given your position, the meat of your cheek dragging against heavy cloth.
“It’s not just about persuasion, not only when it comes down to the trade- getting people to want you back,” You mumbled, “That’s the real trick. You can face any number of hurdles, you can have the most unsavory character anyone’s ever seen- but If they want it enough, patrons have a way of making it happen. You usually just need the right good.”
“I don’t know if I’d ever had a…”
“I remember- you took a particular interest in the anatomy books,” You ribbed at him, nudging him with your knuckle lightly, speaking in quiet whispers.
You remembered. It was after he’d become a mighty dragon slayer, when you’d treated him to a tour of your boat.
You never sold them to him, or tried. But you noticed his eyes, dancing across open pages and nude forms.
“I- aha, yeah,” Hiccup shook his head, eyes focused on his legs in fond remembrance, “I… Didn’t realize you noticed that.”
“I expected it,” You huffed, “You were only fifteen.”
“Are you sure?” He mumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching, “I remember you being young, too.”
Your fingers danced over the crook of his arm clumsily as you shifted under the covers.
“You don’t remember my age?” You hummed teasingly as Hiccup furrowed his brows, expression sardonic.
He lifted one hand, shifting fabrics loud in the relative groaning silence and held one side of your face with a warm palm.
He guided it towards his temple, his intention clear; to linger and relish in the press of your foreheads as you had done before, “We’re still young.”
You could have followed his lead, and you would have had you been in any normal state. Instead, following an unusual impulse, you pressed a heated kiss to his mouth instead.
He seemed a bit more lively, then.
As he exhaled, his throat vibrated, sharing a sligh, light groan from somewhere deep in his throat.
“Really?” Hiccup asked, lifting his head out of your reach as you let him free.
The scope of what he was asking was slightly lost on you. You hadn’t planned anything nearly as passionate or intimate as he’d probably been thinking, especially not as you’d made this decision, quick and last minute, but you would play it by ear.
You had been feeling a measure more amorous as of late. Especially since…
You hooked your arm over his waist, tugging at the hem of his tunic until he got the message and shifted, pulling himself over you.
For a brief, slightly unpleasant moment, you were exposed to the cold air, your blankets displaced by Hiccup’s moving body, his knee grazing over your middle and resting on your other side.
You hummed, pulling up your fingers and reaching under the back of his tunic, fingers running against the notches of his spine, then dropped your head back once more, a notable breath’s distance from where it had been, pressed close to Hiccup’s chest.
You had heard his heart pounding audibly then, deep and hurried as you nuzzled -prodded at- the very edge of his clothed chest with the softest part of your forehead.
While he was busy speaking, you pressed your lips to his collarbone, running your tongue along its most extruding part, tasting at slightly salty skin with light, brushing touches.
Hiccup’s next breath was shuddery, the shifting of his hips and the flexing of the muscles in his neck as he swallowed easily exposing his interest.
You could feel his lungs expand and contract, your palm pressed flat to his back.
Your own breathing was fast as you focused hard on his face, your periphery nearly invisible to you as you met with your eyes the few moles on his right cheek, the ones by his chin and the few just next to a faint, tiny scar below his lip.
You focused on the fading freckles across the bridge of his nose, a bit harder to make out under the dim light, the neutral green of his eyes and the lines in his irises as they disappeared, consumed by slowly expanding black pupils as in that moment of rest, Hiccup was finally able to press his forehead to yours, his crinkled brows meeting your own.
With one of your hands teasing the space where shoulder blade turned to spine, tracing the heated muscle there, flexed and stressed under nearly damp skin, and the other lifting from the hem of his pants to rub his side slowly and before then moving up, hooking under his arm so you could tease the long-ish, silk-soft hairs at his nape with your fingertips- he looked utterly debauched.
And it had only been a few kisses.
Hiccup adjusted his arms, then, resting them by the elbows at your sides, his soft eyelids drooping even as his brows were raised with surprise and skepticism.
“Now would be just as good a time as any,” You rolled your vowels and spoke in flats, too occupied to keep managing any sort of accent, bending your knee and shifting it, wiggling it until it met the core of his trousers, coaxing him further.
You paused, nearly out of breath for a few reasons you couldn’t quite name, in the moment just before you could speak again, sure your voice this time would be slightly deeper, prepared to speak in honeyed tones as Hiccup dipped his head, luring a catching breath from your own wet mouth.
You were still slightly weak. You weren’t sure you could do a great deal of running, but that was just fine for everything you had planned.
You tilted your head as he did, bobbing and pressing your nape into the stiff plush of your pillow.
The hairs on the back of your neck tingled in a way that told you they’d stood, prickling just barely against the stiff pillow beneath your head.
It must have been the grief that made everything that much sweeter; and the dread, tickling at your lowermost half.
You knew that this was perhaps an unwise course of action, fondling your fiance while you were in such subtle but immediate peril, though it might have been that the inopportune moment made it feel even more right.
There was so much burning, a tingling that lay over just the topmost layer of your skin by the back of your neck, hotly testing the lobes of your ears.
You panted, exhaling with a whistle that bordered on something much more feeling, inhaling deeply as Hiccup caught your bottom lip with his teeth before and as he pulled away.
It was just a light, accidental bite made just before he himself dipped again, the relaxed flat of his tongue tracing a path across its rim, teasing the wet, slick skin of your inner mouth.
You curled into yourself slightly as you felt it drag and as he separated, which had the odd side effect of pressing you further up into Hiccup.
Testing his luck, you felt tips of his teeth grazing against your earlobe, tracing it on either side just ever so slightly with hard enamel as you buried your head in his shoulder, resisting the urge to jerk as you pulled up your hand, the one you had resting on his back.
As it rose higher, it had the unintentional consequence of tugging up his shirt.
Your hand paused only when it was able to clutch at the top of his shoulder nearly without any real grip.
His breath nearly burned against the place where the soft skin of your ear turned ever softer and slightly more pliant. You didn’t turn your head or lean too much closer in case it smelt like fish, something you’d unfortunately found late in the previous day.
He’d need a bath soon, despite his peculiarly clean state.
You smothered a slightly amused breath, managing to turn it into something low and coy instead.
The fingers of one of your hands gently traced down the skin between his last hair and the collar of his tunic, his back shuddering, before raking your nails quickly, lightly down his side.
You could tell he was startled by the loss of solid contact as your nails drifted over his back as he spent those sparse moments leaning ever so slightly towards the empty, cool space left behind.
He might have spoken just before jerking as you pulled him towards you by the seam of his pants, hooking a finger under the fabric, knuckle brushing against soft belly skin once and then twice and again as you tugged his hips down towards your own.
You didn’t relent in your tugging until he pressed down, arms shaking lightly, pelvis shifting against you, the uneven, nearly urgent, horizontal twitching of his bottom half communicating his grieving need to move and press and mill himself into yours.
You were guilty, in this instance, of building moments and petting his skin as a tribute, a solid, real imitation of a vision you’d dreamed one time or a million.
In your fevered state you’d almost seemed to have lived pyretic, soft words spoken, gripping and prodding and heated ardor as you faded in and out of consciousness.
It was poetry in sliding action, promises of always-meaning-to-haves, and yet-without-he’d-yearneds, as he’d said to you while you were stuck in a deluded, mirage-wrought, fevered haze, storybook platitudes invented by a burdened body breathing through dry lips
It made things smolder within you, riling parts that were more appropriately silenced around good company.
Your delivered, fevered apparitions were in part what had soothed you, kept you complacent below deck as you’d been pulled from illness.
You willed that they also did some measure to soothe your fiance’s internal tumult, especially as the roiling above you grew more frenetic.
Your lips parted in between silent thrusts and hurried groans, Hiccup resting some of his weight back over his elbows, breath pressing against you as he placed his forehead against your collar, panting.
“I… Never thought that- we…” He started, in a way that nearly broke the spirit of the while, like a thin spider’s web, tension added and displaced by a wary, straying finger, “I never thought that this would ever- between the two of us…”
It took you a moment to formulate a response, distracted by the stillness of your hips and the still unwaning burn in your loins.
“You would've had me no matter what,” You stated plainly, in a way you felt was fact. You spoke a bit hurriedly, eager to get back to what you’d been doing before, though you still took the time to turn his words over in your head.
You wrinkled your brows, giving him a look that you felt mirrored the fond feeling blooming in your chest, pressing a dry, chase kiss to the place on his scalp where thick hair gave the illusion of a part and where he smelt slightly of dandruff and sweat, a scent that followed you slightly back to your pillow.
“I really would have, wouldn’t I?” Hiccup asked, lifting his head so the soft, slightly oily tuft of hair bleeding over his forehead ran against your face, before pressing a searing, open-mouthed kiss to yours, pushing down into you again.
You’d intended to tease his upper lip, however you were mildly surprised as his tongue slid messily against yours.
His touch, slick with saliva, sending sparks, sharp, unbearable, needy tingles down the middle of your body, from the bright spot in your chest where they’d been born down to the softest spot of your pelvis as you jerked upwards, gasping at nearly a keen.
Your quiet moment together was quickly and startlingly interrupted by a loud, prolonged grinding noise, nearly indistinguishable from a roar, and then there was a loud scream.
Though you knew better, were now familiar with the desperate screams of the few dragons aquatic enough to be blessed with sonar.
It sent an alarm running through your body, momentarily keeping you from thinking of anything substantial, jerking with sudden movement.
Nothing had ever rung so clearly through thick, sealed timber and large crate walls in all the long hours you’d been locked down here.
The very ground below you seemed to vibrate with the force of it. In fact, it did.
You hadn’t been sure this ship could move so strongly or so suddenly, not with its size and not in this weather, certainly not nearly as violent as what you’d known traveling in far more open waters.
You had both stiffened, and quickly Hiccup pulled himself away, half scrambling to his feet, prosthetic creaking loudly, your soft grip giving under the alarm that had imbued your limbs with momentary weakness.
“I’m going to check it out,” Hiccup said firmly, voice soft and nearly as deep, eyes trained on you, gaze simple.
You returned his gaze with a nod -an accepting one- proceeding the singular push he needed to stand and the few clumsy steps that followed, starting his sure run out from your hide, knowing that his dragon would follow even without signal.
You knew that should he find something wanting, your cover would be blown. You would wait until he gave you the signal to bolt, no matter how facile you felt as a result.
Still, though, you edged towards where your large coat had been hidden. It was just by a large crate behind your cot, placed on the side furthest from the entrance, the only thing besides it in the small, glib space you slept in.
The crate was not a part of the wall but set a few feet behind you like a distant headboard, reaching just above your waist in height.
For a while, you waited in silence, your ears straining as you tried to catch some audible glint of how far Hiccup had gone.
You spent another while -a long while- in silence, unsure of which second was which, one moment blurring into two until the light tapping of steps in the distance revealed you to his position.
He sprinted back quickly, steps loud and ringing without subtlety, which you took to mean that your position had been blown.
However, the loud-quiet calling of your name in frantic whispers, audible to you only as you strained your ears, had you hesitant.
Instead of grabbing your coat as you knew you should, you took a few hurried steps towards the entrance to your hideaway, standing, waiting to greet him.
As he reemerged from the maze of heavily nailed crates, you quickly moved back so he had room to rush in.
You noticed first the new lines of sweat which had quickly budded and started to make their way down his face and the rougher muss of his hair, which you hadn’t thought was possible after your previous intense, passionate encounter.
“There’s… Trouble. Again,” He said quickly, under his breath, speaking words that ran cold in your chest. “ …Someone is releasing the dragons.”
You raised two daunted brows, startled by a loud crashing noise.
Hiccup’s breath was caught quickly by a stern, inhaled hiss and you found yourself stepping back as your fiance turned and backed into you, half intentionally leading you back, his legs crouched and an arm out by his side and in front of one of your sides guardingly.
You stumbled over the cot and in quick succession found yourself thrown back by your own weight.
The wood was cold against your legs, your bottom half not as covered as you would have preferred had you been in any regular situation.
The tight stinging sensation of having fallen back against wood beneath you resonated throughout the meat of your thighs, the sharp corners of the crate behind poking into your back in sharp lines, like a paper folded over the edge of a table, one side hanging off.
The flames of his sword flickered dangerously near the wood walls around the both of you, lighting up the small space with a fuzzy, burning orange clarity.
You had not been certain where he’d had it, if he’d held it as he’d run out or if he’d swiped it as you’d fallen and he’d pressed his back close against your middle, though from the way he’d pulled and triggered the launch of the blade, you thought that it might have been hidden under one corner of your cot.
You waited with tension for a long, long moment before, with the creeping of flat blows against wood, you watched an imposing shadow creep into the frame of the entrance to your hiding place, growing ever so larger as whatever it was grew nearer.
In front of you, it covered half of the space covered by the open doorway. And then it paused.
Hiccup’s body fully over yours, feeling hot where everything else was distressingly cold.
For a moment it was just the heavy, lung-stressed breathing of your fiance that rang out in the emptiness of the hold, highlighted by the faint sounds of battle you must have been able to hear through an open door, nothing having been so clearly heard before.
Into your awareness then arose the dull noise of scraping against wood, the sound hollow and stifled by nature, occasionally highlighted by the just-barely-there rattle of some many small things.
They, the one, whoever it was- they must have followed your fiance back.
Along another pile of crates piled just out of the exit to your hide emerged a thinner shadow, pyrrhic in form, growing and shrinking, long and frightening just before the something-large overtook it.
You saw the beast first.
It was ginormous, not completely visible past the space leading towards the outside, though you could make out muddy gray-brown over corded flesh, the color of wet sand and the other kind, the dry kind that ate limbs and pulled you downwards into the deepest bowels of an ever-pressing hole, the kind people drowned in as their lungs and eyes were filled by heavy grain, impossible pressure all around them.
It had huge horns resembling a helmet or the towering metal fronds of a crown, placed upon its square head so that it looked like some monstrous baron or a shah. They teased the deepest shades of red, seeming to ooze as it crept like blood from an untreated wound, a scab raw and festering with infection along the edges.
Its colors were washed dark in the dim light, yet you could make out an amber underneath ivory, the sap consistent shade oddly mesmerizing against your fiance’s flickering firelit sword and as a foil to the complete and utter destruction ringing from a distance.
Four wicket ivory claws, the kinds hunters sold over foreign markets, scraped at the two pillars of crates on either of its sides.
You were unsure of how many limbs it boasted, though all of them framed the form of a tall figure in front, unbelievably thin, covered in tawdry leather-wrapped armor.
A mask, painted light blue over something darker, adorned its face, eyes like sunken voids, carved deep into its skull.
Its structure was overall insectoid with two outwards-facing mandibles, different and yet in mimic of the classical, draconic representations of foe that wreaked through the archipelago like a disease.
It- the figure- was holding a staff with two hooks on either end made of bone, which must have been what scraped along the floor so petrifyingly. Like hanging spice and bunches of rotting fruit hung small, hollow, jejune bundles of what must have been bone, each small part rattling vaguely against another.
Its stance was oddly composed for a creature dressed so wildly.
Their shadow was thrown over your cautious, cowering form, pressed into the uneven side of a crate to your back, incredibly tense in the wordless silence
You voiced your cautions through wordless sounds in the back of your throat, more exhale than corded vibration.
“Stormcutter,” Hiccup said to you, under his breath, voice deep with warning meant for the intruders in front, his eyes never leaving them, arm pressed further against your middle as he held himself in front and against you, who was nearly completely covered by him.
All of your eyes remained trained stoutly on one another, a loud clash and the sound of metal on metal ringing on a scale of violent proportions sound through the empty air from above, muffled by wood.
There was yelling as the boat rocked violently, Hiccup nearly stumbling onto his side, couched as he was, elbows digging into your sides in an effort to stay pressed in front of you and to keep the blade of his sword an appropriate distance away.
That was until, from the darkness, there rose a rumbling, feral growl, seeming to come from all around, sound thrown as Toothless revealed himself behind you.
He was only discernible to you through the cracking sound of jagged dragon nail scraping against and punching through wood.
An intense buzzing precluded the casting of a sickly purple light lengthening the deepest of shadows in the cracks of the wood around you, an intense crackling emanating from where his maw must have been.
The masked warrior seemed to fall back as the Night Fury spat, his hiss deep and intense and frightening as they brought their arm up warily to shield their chest.
Your fiance’s steed at that instant embodied the myths and legends from back on his home island, an ancient wrath born from hundreds of years of fear, retribution and silent cries from the long lost to fog. Men torn to shreds and abandoned without sign as to what could have led to their demise, stirring up old dread like the feeling of ice biting and numbing at the limbs, like Vikings huddled and shivering in their cabins, cut off from anything else left living as the moonless sky ate lone men, traveling from beyond the horizon and into the treeline.
There was no true way to communicate what the Fury was without words, melted so deeply into the shadows, not without the sightless whistling in the night that was its calling card. Its background became a lost history to the estranged, a tall tale for only scared ears to hear whenever it was out of the sky.
Your attacker paused.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Hiccup nodded at the silent figure wryly. “My name's- none of your business, and that’s…”
He shrugged his shoulder back against you,
“-Don’t tell them my name,” You grumbled, nearly whispering, hands curling around the crumpled tunic sleeve covering his bicep, his shoulder digging nearly uncomfortably into your chest.
Hiccup grunted in response.
An elaborate web of deep throated clucking, the vague shifting of their staff and the pounding of its bottommost hook against the wood in tune with a few dry snaps meant that the large Stormcutter quickly turned from hostile to complacent. Still, you kept a heedful eye on it.
Your fiance coughed awkwardly, “If you could leave us alone, that would be great.”
“...We’re castaways,” You added helpfully, voice even as you narrowed your eyes.
As he spoke, the warrior’s dragon’s throat seemed to undulate, the closest thing it could have to an adam’s apple, a large muscled knot, bobbing quickly up and down, extruding and dipping under its fireproof scaling until the head of it -the beast- jerked forwards, mouth opening and grotesquely regurgitating a tall pile of fish.
A peace offering?
It seemed that the term ‘ruthless’ had been a misnomer as Toothless fell to the wood floor with a heavy beat, his drop causing the muscles in your wrists to flex and tense.
He looked at the pile cautiously, sliding past you looking skin to a large, inky shifting of scale-like darkness before sitting firmly on the floor, cooing at Hiccup with release, deciding unanimously for the two of you that the ship's attackers must not be a threat after all.
You remained stiff until your fiance himself relaxed. You'd had more faith in his judgment than a dragon easily able to be swayed by fish, which was a sort of fallacy, given your fiance himself trusted the instincts of a dragon more than any man’s, even his own.
“Alright, fine,” Your fiance groaned defeatedly, “It’s gang up on Hiccup day today, isn’t it?”
You rubbed your eyes, feeling refreshed as the crowing and chirruping of dragons filled the space around you, shaking away a deep, light yawn, the corners of your mouth stinging with feeling even as they’d tempered and your lips closed.
Shaking off the remnants of your kip, you kneeled in the grass, holding the thin, wide leaf of a fern in your hands, petals brushing against your palm. In a world full of intrigue and strife, here you found yourself more interested in the smaller things.
Between your toes, clovers peeked up at the glassy ice-covered sky, a large, geometric dome that seemed to completely encase everything, filtering in light like you’d imagined, as a kid, how fairies might glow, small and skittish and mean.
The leaves of the plants below, feeling dull yet shining with dew, were damp and tickled at your feet, feeling every so delicate and yet strong.
The feeling sent shivers up your spine, somewhat uncomfortably.
You marveled at it, at how the grass, a few measures further from you, dotted in patches around the field of three-leaved sprouts, seemed to beat, breathing and bowing in tune with everything else in the large main chamber of your fiance’s mother’s Sanctuary.
To your left churred a large yellow dragon with purple spots and an armored belly in lighter, beige tones, sharp metal-like bonemail pumping with its lungs, shoulders flexing, thick lower arms and brutally thin neck covered in scales floundering like sand beneath your feet.
Smaller, multicolored young dragons, some with obscenely large heads for their tiny bodies, waddled by on large feet, nearly too fast for you to make out; green one with orange, blunt, triangular spines, a slow, clumsy red one, eyes big and blue and sad and a much larger purple.
Far, far down below a rainbow gaggle of dragons gathered, crouched over large piles of rocks, sharing intimate touches, standing protectively over what must have been young, or perhaps eggs, which to you tended to not think made much of a difference.
A dragon was just as protective of her clutch as she was of her breathing young, though the same couldn’t be said for anything that hadn’t yet been laid.
From hidden observation, you knew a carrying dragon showed no worry or abandon, fighting and hunting just as actively as any other, though there seemed to be no fighting here.
Still, in that instant you yearned for your spyglass.
You smiled slyly.
The black, saddle-less, featureless form of a dragon bobbing and bowing, swiping playfully at another twice his size, a ginormous dragon with gray skin and imposing red horns in the shape of a ram, so wide and thick they nearly covered its eyes.
It seemed quite annoyed, large bulky feet pounding against first soundlessly from where you stood, large maw bobbing open and closed as if to preclude a roar though none ever came.
You peered around again, the feeling of it filled you with joy as you looked over the array of dragons playing together in the lush greenery of the sanctuary by the main pool, large and deep, which you knew funneled into the ocean.
You were an ant compared to the huge, towering pillars of ice surrounding you. The thin leather draped across your body shifted with you, blowing and moving with a breeze drifting swiftly in from your left, where lay the eye-squinting-ly bright entrance into the giant ice fortress, shining like a sun to your simple light-unadjusted gaze.
You were one of many things here. A singular being, a blade of grass, a heartbeat, one of many limbs, each united by simple needs.
Eventually, when you found it important, and the feeling of damp clover between your toes and against the soles of your feet grew to be too much, you bent slowly, lazily grabbing for your staff, nearly hidden under a canopy of greens.
Its bone hook was ribbed on the inside of its curve, shaped like a hook, both glossy and matte in patches, one of your Fiance’s mother’s old pairs. It had naught but a small bone blade on the other end, a spike you’d found useful in picking apart ice, when you’d been allowed.
You’d gotten no glimpse of the great king ice beast with which you’d felt so connected, but that was just fine. Swept away by your emotions, you felt that in this moment all things had happened as they’d been meant to.
You brushed the hook of it across the grass floor of the sanctuary and scanned the bright green bedding of the cold earth below, searching and yet not at the same time, heart open to the wonder and marvel of the scenery around you.
Your hurriedly padded across the landing, running towards smooth, uneven basalt flooring over worse-feeling moss, uncomfortably fuzz and grabbing and clumped in what you thought to be the worst way, slowing down just in time to step calmly onto stone, the wetness clinging to your soles posing a slight danger now that you were on smooth ground.
You expired, rotating your shoulders in an effort to be rid of your jitters and began your walk towards the geometric columns forming the entrance to your temporary cove-resting-spot.
It was not unlike a large, open cavern hole, an uneven maw lined by even more columns. Hanging vines and moss provided a measure of privacy, acting as some semblance of a curtain.
Though some leaves and other plant bits clung to your feet, you kept at an even pace, perhaps to protect what dignity you had left, mussed and undone as you were as you approached your fiance. You knew that as you stepped over dry land they would fall off as sand did when you moved from beach to inner island.
You scrubbed your feet lightly against stone, hoping to get rid of the last of the unsavory bits clinging to your heels and your left big toe before you pushed aside living curtains.
The knuckle side of your free hand pushed against spindly vines. You were careful not to make too much noise as you padded across the darker space.
It was a cave unlike the one your fiance's mother stayed in, surrounded and protected by hard ice.
Yours had been built by stone and garbed in a moss blanket, ferns and vegetation growing out the cracks between rocks like weeds
There was not a lot of light inside, mostly due to the lack of windows.
It was an area that was much larger than you’d needed, equally as green as the largest connected chamber yet covered more so by moss than anything else.
A small, trickling fall lay at one end, on the side in the back to the left of where you had set your things, pouring from a small hole in a column that was much higher than, most likely, you and Hiccup stacked vertically together.
The stream that flowed beneath it, thin and following a path carved by ancient waters, trickled into a smaller opening in the wall, too small for you to even get a glimpse into the inside even best over on your knees.
Along the rugged wall lining the left side of the cave was where you’d lain your chest.
Your fiance was much too worried to bring any of your things from the ice enclave into the hunter’s ship- he could not manage a chest with you nearly dead from cold- but his mother had been generous enough to find it with direction and quickly carry it back to your dwelling.
Of course she had done it hastefully, as travel was much quicker on the backs of dragons, though you couldn’t help but to watch her as she moved around the two of you, circling like an anxious animal, appeasing and peculiar.
You wondered if that was her way of trying to ameliorate, to compensate for the time she had given up with her son and to earn a small amount of favor from you, his fiance and future spouse.
She seemed, also, incredibly cautious of you and oddly protective of Toothless, who she’d had no prior relationship with, as if you might pose a threat to her sanctuary. It had risen a scale of uneasiness in Hiccup that made their interactions seem distant.
It wasn’t something that worried you. How you took in your fiance’s mother all depended on him. You had no particularly strong feelings on the matter, so at one point you decided you would follow his lead, whatever he chose, until she gave you a reason not to.
If you’d wanted to leave and the two of you had been on good terms, a cheap fare should be enough to get you to Berk, if she flew you far enough. You’d be able to get leather to repair Toothless’ tailfin at almost any port.
Before you lay a new pile of beddings, equally thin as the ones you’d laid with in the bay of the dragon trapper’s ship though this pile was much more comfortable.
Hiccup was still laying under his covers. He was an early riser, though not as early a riser as you, who had also slept deep and stayed under the covers much longer than your internal clock would usually allow.
The only thing covered by a blanket was his waist, though his limbs were thrown about in a way that obscured his face, his body facing his right, legs bent, one pulled in front of the other, an arm thrown across his jaw so that you could see nothing but mussed auburn.
It was out of character for your fiance, who you’d come to know as a still sleeper. The exhaustion and all of the excitement must have affected him deeply, down to the very bone.
His position was slightly different to the one you’d left him in, facing the ceiling though no less spread. It was definitely possible you had woken him up for a moment, or nary even but still long enough to shift, as you’d gone out to take some fresh air, leaving a rustled quilt in your wake, blankets folded over in odd places as you’d thrown them aside.
You strode quietly up to his side. It was the one closest to the edge of his side of the bedding, with his prosthetic sitting simply parallel to the place softer blanket melted into stone, which you could navigate to easiest before carefully stepping over him with one foot.
You hummed lightly again, wordlessly and stood over him, watching him twitch and earring the low grumble of a sleepy grown in his voice as he turned onto his back.
His eyes opened just a sliver, stuck with sleep and limited in motion by the hair that threatened to tickle his lids if he moved too suddenly, before gently, slowly closing again.
“My dear future spouse,” You hummed as you lowered yourself over him, bending your knees until they rested against layered blankets.
Then you slid the rest of you across his body, stilling and resting your weight mostly against his lower middle and leaned forward, pressing your hands over the blankets on both sides of his neck.
After a moment of nothing, you bowed further, mirroring the actions Hiccup had taken just the last day and settling on your elbows.
You let your fingers graze along Hiccup’s cheek, touching him just barely by the tip of your nail, watching the muscles in his jaw stiffen and his eyelids clench lightly as you purposely pressed fully to his chest with your own.
You pulled him away from his feigned sleep with ease, catching relaxed lips by a simple kiss, pulling back and going back for seconds, running your tongue along the inside of his lips just barely and feeling as they finally tensed and pressed back.
When you parted, he chased you up, neck craning to follow as you stayed just barely out of his reach.
His thighs didn’t brace behind you the way they needed to keep him up, which you could feel from your place over his crotch, legs pressed to his sides, which meant that Hiccup dropped back onto your cot with a grunt, unprepared to lift himself up.
He clearly didn’t expect you to pull back so far.
You shifted over his lap again, leaning down again.
He followed you up this time, lured like a fish on a hook, his right hand bracing against the ground behind him, another coming up to weave its way to the back of your head.
After another moment, pulled his right hand from your head and laid it lightly on your thigh in a way that allowed his thumb to feel as if it were just barely tickling the inside of it.
You felt at the soft press of open lips, his chapped in places, mouths rolling against each other as his thumb twitched, feeling as if it was nearly sparking against skin.
As you distributed most of your weight onto your knees, you rotated your hips over his groin in a balmy manner, feeling his hand spasm against your thigh.
Hiccup bucked up slightly, grunting.
“...Am I dreaming?” Hiccup blinked groggily as you parted, your hand by his jaw, the tips of your fingers threaded into russet hair gently guiding his face back.
His voice was slightly husky, clumsy with grogginess, still-dazed eyes quite obviously conveying his confusion yet also showing no real hesitance.
“Your dragon’s causing trouble again,” You said, voice tinged with pleasure, “You’d better get him soon.”
Hiccup groaned, letting himself fall back down with a thick puff, “What does he want?”
“That is for you to figure out,” You spoke with a light laugh, light.
Hiccup shifted into a more comfortable sitting position as you stood up and stepped back over onto stone, shaking off the strain in your legs.
You huffed with amusement, chuckling lowly as Hiccup nearly stumbled, forgetting to pull on his prosthetic as he tried to haul himself up.
You nudged it towards him with your foot.
“Let me get ready,” Hiccup grumbled sourly.
“Don’t forget to send for your father,” You sang, “There’s a lot the few of you need to discuss… And much for you to make up for.”
#httyd#how to train your dragon#x reader#fanfiction#hiccup haddock#hiccup x reader#httyd imagine#gender neutral reader#fem reader
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It’ll Be Our Little Secret (Hiccup x Reader) (Smut)
Author's Note: Hey! Hope you're ready to read a very steamy AND long 'Hiccup x Reader' fanfic. This was originally posted on Wattpad, but it kind of flopped. So I thought I would shoot my shot over here instead (since, from my understanding, people go a little crazier for smuts over here). Also, English isn't my first language so please excuse me if it isn't grammatically correct, or a sentence isn't built up right.
Short Summary: You have a crush on Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, Chief of Berk. You can’t think straight. None of the other guys on your island can compare. The only issue is you’re the daughter of (y/f/n), Chief of (y/i/n). Berk’s enemy island. Though your crush on Hiccup only can play out in your fantasy, a knock at your door would change that?
⚠️Warning!⚠️: This story contains swearing and rough sexual acts. Not suitable for a younger audience!
(y/i/n) = your island´s name
Words: 3336
(I don't own any of the GIFs)
Your pov:
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third. Not really a popular name around here. Even though you didn't have anything against him personally, your islands wasn't really on good terms. This all started long before you were even born, so you didn't really know the exact reason as to why you hated each other so much. But you were taught that "anything from the island of Berk is equal to horse shit", and so your opinion remained... sort of.
After Stoick's death Hiccup inherited the title, which made him more of a foe in your eyes. Compared to him "just" being the Chief's son. Still you couldn't help but find him... attractive. Hey! You're a 18 year old girl. Boys starts to look quite appealing at this age. And after all he's kind of the only guy, around your age, you've meet frequently (thanks to your islands fighting each other on a regular basses). When you compared him to the other guys on your island, they're not even close. He's just perfect. Well, everything but his title. You know your "relationship" can only remain in your imagination. It's not really optimal to ask for your father's blessing to marry, the now, Chief of the island we abominate.
-
As you lay in bed, facing the wall, you hear the door open. By having such old doors the squeaking gives away any unwanted surprise visits. You began to wonder who it could be. You've already said your 'goodnights' to your parents before preparing for bed. After a lot of whining, your parents finally let you move in to your own hut. Their only 'but' was to have your hut being surrounded by guards 24/7. They didn't want to take any risks with everything that was happening at this island. But you didn't mind. You actually liked when they informed you who was approaching, even if it was your mother. It felt like you could have the privacy you wanted by moving out. That's why it's even more strange that non of the guards had told you about the guest that was now on their way inside your house.
You turned around and jumped as you saw who decided to give you a visit. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. What is he doing here? Isn't this the foremost guy they're suppose to make sure isn't strolling around the village? "I need to have a little talk to them about this" you thought as you rolled your eyes. But they quickly went back to the unwelcomed guest. "Uh, may I ask why you're in my hut?" you asked, rather confused as to why he hasn't tried to kill you yet. Hiccup dropped all his potential weapons on the ground before approaching you. Even the tiny dagger on one of his bracers was now laying a few meters from your bed. You watched him rather doubtful, wondering 'what the fuck is he doing?'. "I'm not here to hurt you" he said calmly before standing in front of your bed, "No weapons on me, so I hope you haven't got any either". Should I make a run for it? My parents´s hut is just a few meters away. If he catch up with me I've at least tried. Before you could make up your mind if you should take a chance or not he started petting the empty space beside you on the bed, not really trusting you no matter what your answer would be.
He soon went over to you, sticking his hands underneath the blanket and petting you from the thighs up to your neck, making sure you wasn't hiding any knifes underneath your clothes. "No weapons... and no panties either" you slapped him across the face. "What the hell are you doi-" you yelled out, but got cut off as Hiccup slam his hand over your mouth "Shh! Don't yell, someone could hear you!". You gave him the look that said 'duh, that's the point' and he let's go of your mouth. He continued "I want to make sure you aren't armed either. I just want to.... talk". You looked at him rather confused "What could you possibly want to talk to me about? How it is to be an only child of a Chief?" you joked, which allowed Hiccup to chuckle. "Maybe I phrased that wrong, but you'll see what I came here to do" he said while giving you a smirk. I swear to the gods, he's flirting with me.
"Let me just remove this to make sure you aren't hidding something first" Hiccup started to pull up your nightgown. He got to about your waist before you grabbed his hands, making him stop. The thought of him seeing you so bare, even if not in a sexual context, made you anxious. You looked inside his emerald green eyes, as if to find something that would tell you what to do. You've never been this close to him before, so this was your opportunity to scan his face for the first time. He had a few freckles, a scar on his chin, and what seem to be the early stage of a beard-growth. Without even thinking you placed your hand against his cheek, caressing it as Hiccup leaned in. As soon as you noticed you quickly snatched back your hand. Hiccup tugged at your dress again, as if to ask if it's okay. You raised your arms, making the progress of removing your nightgown a lot easier for him. Something about his face had made you calmer. Your nipples harden, reacting to the low temperature as he toss the piece of clothing at the floor. He looked at them in admiration but also noticed the necklace your father gave you, showing which island you belong to. "Can I touch them?" Hiccup asks as he push your hair back, allowing him to get a better view of your bare chest. "Only if I can remove these first" you answer, referring to his bracers. He nodded, thinking it's a fare trade. Hiccup watched your concentrated face as you loosen it up, eventually sliding it off. He tugged a strand of hair behind your ear with his, now bare hand as you worked on the other one.
You caress your hands over his body, admiring the armor that always seemed to turned you on so much. You would lie if you said you haven't thought of how it would feel grinding your naked body against it. Feel the leather and metal against your wet folds. The thought would help you when you were alone in bed, having some 'me'-time. Even though you wish he could keep it on, you helped Hiccup remove the upper part of his armor, leaving him shirtless. "Now we're even" you teased. He looked at you, grinning. Hiccup grabbed your breasts which made you gasp just by the touch. As he began to massage them you let out a few proper moans. "Are you a virgin?", you looked up at him, thinking "how rude" wondering why on earth he needed to know that. "You react quite intense at just the small amount of pleasure I'm giving you now. Virgins usually reacts quite hard at any sort of sexual stimulation, so that's why I asked". He seemed to notice your concerned face since he quickly filled in with "-but that's not bad" the panic was vibrant in his voice "It's actually very excitative". You nodded, answering his previous question. Hiccup flickered his tongue at both of your nipples, earning more moans from you. He went down your stomach, leaving sloppy kisses on his way there, keeping his eyes locked with yours. As he looked at you, seductively, you couldn't help but feel like this is wrong. This could ruin your family's name for generations if it would ever come out. Should I stop? Hiccup would stop if you asked him to, but the question is 'do I want it to stop?' After all, this is what you've been dreaming of. The senators you've made up in your head in order to get yourself off is actually happening. No way you're going to ruin this shot. Hiccup went up to your face again, this time only a few centimeters gap. You let out a shaky breath, starting to sweat just by the looks he gave you. Yep, this is really happening.
"Got any hidden weapons in here?" Hiccup asked, pulling at your underwear. You shrugged, acting stupid, really intrigued to see what he would do. "Well, I better inspect it" he teased before shoving his hand down your underwear. You gasped, feeling his slender fingers being so close to your core. He laughed as he felt the wetness you've already developed. "You really get turned on by this" he teased before removing your panties and threw them across the room. As your legs went down you squeezed your thighs together, feeling a bit self conscious again. Hiccup noticed "No, open up for me, princess. No need to act all shy now" he parted your legs, keeping some weight on your thighs to prevent you from pressing them together again. You, realizing this instead took your hands and covered the most private part. But Hiccup didn't let that get unnoticed, "Ah-ah" he said in a warning tone as he slapped your hand away. When he finally got to see all of you, he took a step back just to admire it. "You're so beautiful (y/n). I swear your a gift from the gods". You smiled at his generous words, trying your best not to blush too hard.
He massaged your thighs while moving his hands closer to your throbbing pussy. "You're basically dripping. I never knew you had a thing for me" he joked while looking down, between your legs. "You have no idea" you admitted. He looked up at you, not expecting that answer, "Well, then I'm not the only one who'll enjoy this". Hiccup dragged two fingers along your entrance, scooping up some of your wetness and brought it to his mouth. He licked his fingers clean, having full on eye contact with you as he does. Hiccup raised up from the bed, pulling down his trousers. Your eyes widen as you looked at his hard cock slapping against his stomach. Getting a bit worried about the penetration-bit. He seem to notice and went right in front of your bed, picking you up so you were on your knees by the edge of your bed. Knowing you're a virgin, Hiccup thought you might get less nervous if you get to feel him first. He grabbed you by the wrists, and dragged your hands over his body, starting by the shoulders going down to his chest. He moved your hands down past his bellybutton. When you began to feel his pubs you quickly went down to his thighs instead, not feeling ready to touch him there, just yet. Hiccup's breathing quicken as you worked your hands over his thighs, which intrigued you to go closer and closer to his area. You really wanted to hear him moan. Oh, how many times you've tried to imagine what sounds he makes. You saw his cock twitch as you came closer. He threw his head back, let out an extracted moan as you took him in your hand and began to jerk him off. He traced your other hand to his chest again. You continued till you reached his hair, tugging at his braids. You watched as he hummed at the new sensation while tighten his grip around your wrist. You pumped him harder, milking him on his moans. "T-that's... enough" Hiccup said, breathing heavily.
He pushed you down on the bed as he crawled up your body. He smirked, "Don't worry, I'll fill you up in a second" he said as he positioned himself at your entrance. You whined as he pushed his cock inside you slowly, while holding the back of your head. "You're doing so good, princess. You're being such a good girl" Hiccup said, not being able to hide his moans as your tightness surround his cock. You balled the sheets in your fists as he continued to push till he's fully in. He stayed in that position for a bit, both for you to adjust to his size, but also due to him not cumming straight away. After some reassuring Hiccup began to slide in and out of you, keeping the pace rather slow, not wanting to hurt you. "It doesn't get better" you said through clinged teeth. You've heard the first time would be quite painful, but not for this long. "Hold on, it'll be better soon, I promise" Hiccup reassured you while keeping the low pace. He caressed your cheek while kissing your neck, hoping it would help you to get used to it if you got something else to focus on. It helped. As soon you asked Hiccup to go a bit faster the pace soon increased.
Hiccup rested one of your legs on his shoulder, giving him better excess. He rammed into your body with such speed. You cried out Hiccup's name as he groaned while listening to you saying his name like that. You turned your head to the side, almost embarrassed to look at Hiccup. You didn't know why, but you felt as if you weren't allowed to look at him. He noticed and grabbed you by the chin, turning your head straight "Look at me while you let the enemy fuck your tight, virgin pussy!" he spat. You tightened around him at his words. "Huh? You like it when I fuck you like this? Knowing that Berk's Chief's cock is inside you. And know that with ever thrust, you abandon your people more *thrust* and more". You whined out in pleasure as he spoke to you. He smiled when he saw what effect his words had on you, "You like it, don't you?" you nodded intensely. He bent forward, grabbing you by the neck as he whispered in your ear "You've never let anyone get to feel you like this. But I didn't even have to ask before you spread your legs for me, like the little whore you are. What would the people of (y/i/n) say if they saw you now? Whimper as you let me take advantage of you. I don't think your father would be proud to..." Hiccup traced his fingertip over the charm of your necklace "...see you act like such a whore for me". "Tell me you're mine" he demanded. You were a breathing mess, really affected by Hiccup's dialogue. "I-I'm y-" you couldn't even finish the sentence before a moan interrupted you. "Say it!" he bayed, tighten his grip around your neck. "I-I'm yours, Hiccup. I'm your dirty little whore" you pled out. Hiccup smirked "Good girl. Finally one of (y/i/n)'s people can follow an order".
He pulled out, which made you look down. His cock was coated with your cum and a hint of blood. "Turn around" he demand, you raised up slowly as your whole body felt like jello. As you turned around Hiccup slammed your head against the mattress while your ass was high up. He traced his hand up your back to your waist, sending shivers down your spine. He took a firm grip on your fat before shoving his cock back into your pussy, making you screamed. Luckily the pillow muffed most of your sounds. "Oh, (y/n). You can't imagine how long I've been wanting to do this" Hiccup whines out while pounding into you. Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. He'd thought about you too? He continues to fuck you, keeping the same pace the whole time before slowing down, allowing you both to catch your breath. "Let's keep that other hole busy, too" Hiccup said while bending down towards his pants, picking up something. You tried to see what it was, but with no success. "With what?" your curiosity took over as Hiccup spat down your ass in lack of lube. "The back of my inferno. Let's see how much you can take" he said before pushing it slowly in your asshole. You winced at the cold metal entering you. You had to bite the side of your pillow in order to not scream while your untouched hole slowly got stretched out. "H-hiccup I... I can't take..." you plead out, feeling so filled up while still having Hiccup's cock in you, too. "Aw, sure you can" he pushed in the rest till you felt the cold metal of the dragon head around your opening. "See! You could fit the whole thing" Hiccup said proudly, petting your back while still slightly pushing the dragon head so the handle wouldn't slip out.
You tried to catch your breath. The feeling of both your holes being penetrated at the same time felt amazing. But when Hiccup picked up the same speed as before you could barely take it. You were moaning so loud you were surprised non of the guards came in to check what's going on. The pleasure mixed with Hiccup moaning your name made you so wet you could feel it dripping down your thigh. Every time Hiccup would slam his hips against you, you would be reminded of the handle as it was being push back in you. You continued your highly verbal way of showing how much pleasure you're feeling. Until Hiccup grabbed you by the neck, pressing your back against his chest and cover your mouth "I really appreciate your little orchestra, princess. But we can't risk anyone finding us, right?". You nod your head, while Hiccup keep his hand on your mouth. Even tough you've changed position the speed remind the same. You got to give it to him for keeping up the pace for so long. Hiccup's other hand went down to rubbing your clit, but you quickly slapped it away. "Overstimulated" you mumbled against Hiccup's hand, but he seemed to have heard it since the feedback of his work left a smirk on his face. He grabbed your necklace and swirled it around his fist. You felt the charm against your neck as Hiccup firmly chocked you.
He buried his face against the side of your head, his mouth lining up perfectly to your ear allowing you to hear every little sound Hiccup made. You felt your orgasm around the corner as your legs began to shake even more. "Hiccup-" "Shh, shh, I know. I'm close too". He made sure to thrust hard into you as your orgasm approach. You scream in Hiccup's hand as you came. He moaned higher, getting even closer to his own release while seeing you in this state. Your body was twitching in Hiccup's arms as he held you while still fucking you. He then threw you on your back as he hovered over you and jerked himself to his climax. He came on you, covering your stomach with his warm cum as he screamed out your name as loud as he could without the guards noticing it. He let himself fall beside you, as you both tried to catch your breath. He turned you on your side so your back was facing him, bending your leg up a bit as he pulled out the inferno sword. You moaned one last time as it exited you. Hiccup dropped it on the floor before he went back to you, making you face him again. He pulled his face closer to yours before saying "It'll be our little secret". Then he went up, pull one of the blankets around him, collecting all his things, and leaves.
You lay there in your bed with Hiccup's cum still on your stomach, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.
#hiccup x reader smut#hiccup x reader#hiccup haddock#hiccup horrendous haddock lll#httyd 2#httyd#hiccup#hiccup x reader imagines
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Sky High
Imagine riding a nightfury and hiccup stumbling upon you a lone dragon rider
#fanfic#dreamworks#dreamworks x reader#dreamworks imagine#httyd#httyd x reader#httyd imagine#hiccup#hiccup x reader#hiccup x reader imagine
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Training Session~Hiccup x Reader smutty headcanon for cuddlyscribe~
Okay #1 your Hiccup fics restore my lifeblood, I unapologetically binge read all of them and they’re PHENOMENAL 🥴 and #2 if you’re feeling it, I would love to read your take on a lil scenario between Hiccup and reader where a steamy training session turns spicy 👀 keep up the amazing writing my friend!
@bellelittleoff
So the day would start like any other. You get up early, eat breakfast, get dressed in some training gear and head to the arena.
When you get there of course Hiccup is already there because he somehow wakes up before anyone else.
He sees you and you just see this wide grin form on his face.
He greets you with a “Good morning, milady. Care to train a little with me?” You agree and start stretching to warm up.
You notice him eyeing you as you stretch and instantly decide this training session aint gonna last that long.
You make sure to do plenty of toe touches where he can see down your shirt or facing away from him to show off your ass.
You can hear him letting out exasperated breaths already.
You start training with some basic weapon fighting. You with an axe, him with a sword. You two spin around each other almost in a dance, your weapons clanging against each other.
After you disarm him, he decides you should switch to hand to hand combat training.
You both manage to block each other’s punches and dodge hits.
It’s not until you kick his legs out from under him swiftly and knock him on his back that you realize how hot it’s become.
You quickly climb onto him and pin his hands down beside his head.
“Pinned you.” You say with a sly grin. Hiccup stares into your eyes, panting heavily.
“No fair...you distracted me.” He growls back.
Your laugh quickly turns into a squeal as he flips you onto your back, pinning you.
You glare up at him and he smirks.
Hiccup quickly leans down and presses his lips to yours.
You sigh into the kiss and wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer to you. His hair tickles your forehead as he kisses you.
As he moves down your neck, you get more anxious and begin shoving his trousers down along with your own.
“We have to be quick...the others will be up soon.” You murmur against his lips. He nods in agreement and quickly moves his hand between your legs to prep you.
Once you’re wet enough, he slides in easily and begins setting a dizzying pace.
He grunting and moaning into your ear as you gasp and dig your nails into his back and arms.
You can feel the gravel under you scraping your ass but the pain only adds to the pleasure Hiccup is giving you.
You start to feel yourself coming undone as you tighten around him.
You both come with strangled cries and gasps.
You manage to clean up and fix your clothes just as the others start to arrive for their training.
They notice you both are sweating but Tuffnut makes a comment about you both being up way too early and you both just grin and continue with training, only the both of you knowing what actually happened.
#hiccup x reader#hiccup x reader smut#hiccup httyd#how to train your dragon#hiccup x reader imagines#Hiccup Haddock
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thinking of you, with my head underwater
one. — two. — three. — coming soon.
hiccup haddock x reader
a/n. featuring toothless. gn reader. reader's dragon is one i created/came up with myself, youre welcome to ask about it! i plan for this to be a series - and to reveal more soon (if you have any questions/confusions about the plot youre welcome to pop into my inbox with those too) let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for my writing/this series
it hadn't been easy to get you to simply let hiccup look at your dragon — elsa — from afar without panicking, let alone convince you to go on a short flight with him.
so now, as you glide just above the surface of the sea, your gaze remains ahead; keeping an eye on elsa beneath you, and hiccup to your side, in your peripheral vision.
he hasn't said too much, and he probably means it as some sort of polite courtesy in an attempt to not overwhelm you, but it only serves to heighten your nerves at the possibility of him just waiting for the right time to attack you and steal elsa.
"what's her firepower?" he finally asks, at a volume that you think might have been in an attempt not to scare you, but is almost so quiet it gets whipped away even in the calm breeze.
you query a, "what?" in confusion, but he reads it as you not hearing him properly.
"firepower," he repeats kindly, and leans down to mutter something to his dragon, "like this."
a moment later, toothless opens his mouth — causing elsa to twitch just an inch away anxiously — and shoots a blast out of his mouth that flies ahead and disperses in a purple burst a few seconds after.
you tense once you understand, having never seen elsa do anything like that, let alone even just the normal fire you've caught other dragons spurting.
hiccup however, notices your sudden — extra — uneasiness, and doesn't pick up on the real reason.
"you don't have to tell me," he tries to catch your eye with a comforting smile, "i'm just asking because i've never seen a dragon like yours before."
you try to cooperate, "neither have i."
hiccup's head already spins with new questions, but goes easy on you with a simple, "could you tell me about her?" that he hopes is open-ended enough that you don't feel pressured.
elsa lets out a low, quiet, murmur that only you catch that tells you she's just as uncertain as yourself.
you don't know how he keeps being so patient and perceptive, but hiccup notices both you and your dragons' hesitance yet again, and speaks.
with a smile, he says, "this is how he got his name," nodding to toothless, who turns to look in your direction with a grin, mouth wide as he retracts his teeth and extends them back out a moment later proudly.
you can't help but feel the slightest upturn of your lips at toothless's pure joy, and a small hum from elsa and a ruffle of her wings tells you she feels the same; though appears to be better at hiding it than yourself.
"cool, right?" hiccup smiles back at you.
"i can show you more, this guy's full of secrets," he scratches a little crook in toothless's neck, who purrs happily at the affection, "aren't you!"
it slips out in a moment of comfort that you don't entirely hate, when you finally say, "she floats."
it takes a second for you to realise what you've said, and another to notice how nonsensical it sounds. but hiccup's reaction doesn't reflect this, if anything the sparkle in his eyes is just that little bit brighter - like he knows he's making progress. and his smile has not once faltered, but it has grown just a bit softer, perhaps more genuine?
he leaves room for you to elaborate, so when you don't — whether that be from the high-tide of anxiety splashing at your chest, or inexplicable embarrassment — he says:
"could you show us?"
elsa's sudden jolt away is unmistakable, and it doesn't take even a breath for you to tune into her uneasiness, and to tense yourself.
your head shakes without you realising, and all you can muster is a quick mumbled, "sorry," before elsa flies the two of you away; hopefully to somewhere you two are familiar with, somewhere safe.
you don't catch the way both his and toothless's expressions fall as you exit, nor the way he still politely stays where he was an makes no effort to chase after you - lest he scare you or elsa any further. he simply watches with a hint of sadness, and hopes you will be around the next time he flies through here.
#taking flight (my writing)#hiccup haddock x reader#hiccup x reader#httyd x reader#how to train your dragon x reader#httyd imagine
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Dating Hiccup would include...
PAIRING: Hiccup 'Horrendous' Haddock III x fem!reader
WARNINGS: bad grammar
CONTAINS: fluffy fluff
SONG: Only Girl (In The World) - Rihanna
A/N: Y/D/N - means 'your dragon name' (for example Elsa would be the name you give your dragon)
gif is not mine
the sweetest boyfriend you could ever wish to have
he loves everything about you!
he LOVES when you play with his hair
or when you make him little braids
his favourite activity to do with you is exploring and finding new islands/places
at first he was little insecure about his mumbling
he is such a nerd when it comes to dragons so when you didn't interrupt him and let him talk, he was so happy
he's actually very touch starved
like he had a lovely father and now he have lovely mother but Valka wasn't there his whole adolescence and Stoick wasn't very a hug person
and he never felt those kind of feeling to anyone
he hesitate when it comes to cuddling
wasn't he to heavy? doesn't his peg leg bother you? etc..
but when you drag him to bed, snuggle to his neck and put your legs around his waist, he automatically relaxed
your warm make him feel at home
so now he loves when you two cuddle
he is probably the big spoon
he feels like he's protecting you and that makes him feel more like a man
he fall asleep with you in his arms but in the morning he is in your arms, listening your heartbeat, snuggled into your neck
sometimes Toothless and Y/D/N join you when you two cuddle
Toothless is always teasing Hiccup about you
he rase his 'eyebrows' at Hiccup
Toothless loves you too as well
you help Hiccup with his map
Valka loves you too
she never saw her son that happy
Valka secretly thinks that Hiccup is the happiest when he is with you
races with Toothless and Y/D/N
he protect you with his life and trust you more that anyone
if you tell jump, he will jump
he loves deep conversation with you
he is always admiring you
he loves kisses on the cheek
but secretly he loves kisses on your neck
and when he feels extra confident he give you a hickey
but he always blushes after he realized what he did
he is also very jealous but he can hide it very well
he can't lose you because he wouldn't want to live anymore
without you, live isn't worth it
he just loves you very VERY much!
A/N: I'm maybe gonna do part 2
#hiccup haddock#httyd#how to train your dragon#httyd x reader#httyd imagine#httyd hiccup#how to train your dragon hiccup x reader#hiccup x reader#hiccup haddock x reader#hiccup haddock x fem!reader#dating hiccup would include
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Hello im so glad it’s open. Hiccup x reader when the reader is afraid of dragon and she is a Viking that try to not to be vulnerable and strong but hiccup could see right trough her. Sort of enemy to lovers (reader mostly) and the end Toothlees love her.
Thank you 🙏 😍🥰🥰
'we'll be brave together' - hiccup haddock
masterlist
Hiccup is returning from a wild dragon ride through the clouds when he realizes that he might finally know the secret of the bravest Viking Berk has ever seen.
It’s not like he’s the first one who’s tried to parse out the details of Y/N L/N. There’s hardly a soul in the village who hasn’t. Y/N has been the strongest of the strong, the fastest of the fast, ever since she started training. Everyone their age either wants to be her or beat her, and neither option is remotely reasonable.
Hiccup is no stranger to Y/N’s reputation. How could he not? She started training to fight dragons a year early, purely because it was so obvious she would be an asset to Berk that the elders couldn’t wait to put her out there. She’s been saving lives since she was small. Hiccup wouldn’t be surprised if her first words as a child were a rallying call to arms.
Courage inspires courage, but it’s impossible to see someone that naturally good at everything without trying to find some chink in the armor, a way, no matter how miniscule, to prove that they’re still human. Still like you. But no matter how hard people search, Y/N still seems relentlessly, impossibly perfect. Sure, she has her off days, just like anyone else, but she’s so good that it doesn’t even seem to matter. There has to be something off, but no one else can figure it out.
Except Hiccup, maybe. Probably not, but maybe. Hiccup’s no stranger to the maybes of the world. He’s proven quite a lot of them in his time. Maybe Hiccup, skinny, clumsy Hiccup, could manage to do well in the dragon fighting classes. Maybe he could save Berk from threats. Maybe he could do a decent job of governing a tumultuous group of Vikings on one of the most inhabitable rocks known to man. And maybe, just maybe, he could find the loophole in Y/N L/N’s otherwise flawless streak of victories.
Hiccup only gets the idea when he’s touching down from another dizzying flight. No matter how many times he and Toothless take to the skies, it never gets old. Somehow, each and every time Hiccup and his dragon leave the world behind, chase the stars, shoot the breeze, it feels like Hiccup’s very first time up in the air. The majesty never leaves him.
And so Hiccup was very reluctantly starting to plan out his landing when he saw Y/N below him. Ax in hand, she was probably coming back from yet another round in the training grounds, and judging by the cocky grin on her face, she’d probably been very triumphant yet again. She had a victorious bounce to her step, and as she headed back to her house, it seemed as if nothing could happen to break the young woman’s stride.
Nothing, that is, until Toothless swooped in low from the side, casting his shadow upon the ground where Y/N walked. She had done her best to hide it, but Hiccup had seen it– an uncontrollable flinch, a quick jerk of her head towards the sky to assess the threat, and then, so foreign to him that Hiccup almost wondered if he had mistook another girl for Y/N, a spark of fear in her eyes.
Fear. In Y/N L/N. It made no sense. Hiccup has never known Y/N to be afraid. Not even when facing off against Vikings twice her height. It’s as if the word has simply never entered her vocabulary. Yet the memory of Y/N’s reaction to the arrival of Toothless is burned into Hiccup’s memory as if by a brand. Yes, there’s no doubt about it. Y/N was afraid.
This should mean nothing at all. Berk, although recently accustomed to think of dragons in friendlier terms, has been an enemy of the scaly fliers for as long as Hiccup can remember. A recent change in their mindset would not substantially change their long term memory, which firmly cements dragons as a dangerous enemy. Of course anyone would flinch upon seeing a dragon suddenly emerge from the clouds, especially a Night Fury.
But Y/N isn’t just anyone. Now that he comes to think of it, Y/N has been rather separate from the rest of Berk regarding her reaction to dragons descending upon the village. She has yet to adopt a dragon, claiming that she’d rather prove her skill as a Viking by herself instead of needing to depend on a dragon to do the work for her. And back before Hiccup even crossed paths with Toothless at all, he has memories of Y/N during her dragon training days, how she used to completely lock down her emotions, facing the dragons when required but never so much as looking at them unless she absolutely had to do so.
It couldn’t be, yet it is. The more Hiccup thinks about it, the more he’s certain it’s true. Y/N is afraid of dragons. Not just Hiccup’s dragon, all dragons. Hiccup feels a sudden rush of sympathy for the woman. Although she’s as proud and brave as any, being around the thing she fears the most day in and day out must be taking a toll on her spirits.
And so, although it’s probably a terrible decision, Hiccup makes up his mind to help her as best he can. They’ve never really been friends, in fact, quite the opposite; Y/N was in accordance with the typical Berk mindset that Hiccup was a nuisance since he didn’t quite think like the rest of the Vikings, and they’ve clashed over that ever since. However, Hiccup remembers quite painfully what it was like to fear what everyone else seemed to embrace, and it’s a nasty feeling. Y/N doesn’t deserve to suffer through that, even if their relationship hasn’t always been the sunniest.
True to form, Y/N is glaring at him from the moment she opens her door to find Hiccup smiling awkwardly at her from the front step. “What do you want?” She asks crossly, making it obvious that she has far better things to do than entertain him.
Hiccup grins weakly. “I think I can help you.”
Y/N raises a dubious brow, taking an obvious glance over Hiccup. “You do? With what, philosophy?”
Hiccup forces a chuckle. “Maybe some other time. No, I’m talking about your, ah, dragon problem.”
If there was any doubt in Hiccup’s mind that Y/N was really afraid of dragons, it is completely erased from the moment he brings up the subject. Immediately, her entire expression ices over, but even as her glare sharpens in value, he spots something bright behind her mask, something like fear. She really doesn’t want anyone figuring out, does she?
Y/N glances around quickly to make sure no one could have possibly overheard, then quickly jerks her chin towards the inside of her house. “Fine. Come in.”
Inwardly, Hiccup cheers. He wasn’t entirely certain that she wouldn’t do something drastic to protect her secret, like stab him in the back or shove him into the sea. He still runs the risk of being poisoned, but he figures he’s safe from that so long as he doesn’t eat or drink anything while he’s here.
Once they’re both sitting opposite each other across her wooden table, Y/N fixes him with a steely gaze. “Start talking. How did you know that I–”
Her voice trails off, but Hiccup can guess she’s talking about her fear of dragons. “I only figured it out recently, honest. I had no idea until just now. No one would guess.”
“Yeah, I try to keep it that way,” Y/N remarks dryly. “But you could tell?”
“You don’t like Toothless,” Hiccup explains. “And yeah, he is a Night Fury, and that takes a little while to get over, but most people in the village consider him an ally by now.”
“Except me,” Y/N supplies, glancing towards the table.
“Yeah,” Hiccup agrees. “Except you. Plus, the hesitance to get a dragon of your own.”
“No Viking should accept a dragon unless they can defend themselves!” Y/N argues. “Otherwise, you’ll leave yourself stranded in case something happens. It would be a monumentally stupid risk to take.”
“I feel like that’s a really targeted comment,” Hiccup complains, “but yeah, even with that argument, it made sense once I connected the dots. You’re afraid of dragons.”
Y/N’s eyes narrow. “Did you just come here to hold that over me? What is this, blackmail?”
Not a fan of the way she’s eyeing the carving knife near her place at the table, Hiccup hastily raises his hands, feigning surrender. “Hey. Hey. No blackmail. That wouldn’t be very, uh, Viking of me. Where’s the strength in that? And you know I’m all about strength. And courage. Lots of courage. In fact, that’s why I came here today. I want to help you get over your fear.”
Y/N looks at him doubtfully, but at least she’s stopped inching her hand towards the carving knife. “You want to help me.”
“Yeah,” Hiccup replies earnestly, “I do. It’s better for all of us if we don’t have to feel like we’re hiding things. So? Will you let me help you?”
Y/N stares at him for a long time. At last, she jerks her head up and down in a sharp nod and says, “I will.”
Hiccup claps his hands together excitedly before pushing away from the table. “Perfect. I already have a first lesson in mind.”
Y/N looks substantially less inclined to trust him when she realizes that her first lesson involves getting to know Toothless on a far more personal level. “I thought we were going to ease into this. Like talking about it or something.”
Hiccup shakes his head. They’re both walking through the forest, crunching leaves and stepping over fallen boughs on their way to meet up with the Night Fury. “Not a chance. You don’t gain anything from talking. Besides, I figured you’re the kind of person who likes action over sitting around.”
“I do when it doesn’t involve dragons,” Y/N mutters from somewhere behind him.
Hiccup just grins. “You’ll like Toothless if you give him a chance, honestly.”
They emerge into a clearing. Toothless is curled up in the center, soaking in the sunlight. Immediately, Y/N freezes behind him. Now that she doesn’t have to try and hide from him, Hiccup can see firsthand how bad her fear truly is. Y/N’s eyes are wide, and her breath seems caught in her throat. She seems unable to move a single step.
Hiccup comes back to her side. “Do you trust me?” He asks plainly.
“I think,” she whispers back, her eyes still firmly fixed on the resting dragon in front of her.
“That’s fine,” Hiccup tells her. “At least believe me when I say there’s absolutely no chance that I’d let you get hurt. It would look awful if a chieftain’s son got his best fighter killed by his own dragon, wouldn’t it? You know it’s my responsibility to lead Berk, do you really think I’d risk my popularity by getting you murdered?”
“I trust that,” she admits, and lets Hiccup lead her further into the clearing, until she’s right in front of the dragon.
Sensing visitors, Toothless pokes his head up, exhaling a soft snort from his nose. Y/N flinches back from the movement, but to her credit, she doesn’t try to run.
“This is Y/N,” Hiccup tells Toothless. “You two are going to get to know each other, alright?”
Toothless regards Y/N with faint curiosity. Hiccup reaches out and presses a quiet hand to the dragon’s snout. “Now it’s your turn, alright?” He tells Y/N.
Y/N shakes her head quietly. “There’s no way I’m touching the dragon.”
“He’s not going to hurt you,” Hiccup promises. “Come on, we’ll do it together.”
He takes his hand away from Toothless’ snout and presses his palm against the top of Y/N’s hand. Slowly, carefully, he moves their hands together until they’re both resting against Toothless’ snout. Y/N breathes out once, a great sigh, but doesn’t move. Carefully, Hiccup takes his hand away, and then it’s just Y/N and the dragon. Toothless leans slightly forward into the touch. Hiccup waits for something to happen, for Y/N to flinch away again or give in to her fear, but instead, a shaky smile crosses her face.
“He’s nice,” she says.
Hiccup pulls a face. “He’s only trying to impress you.”
Even his feigned irritation can’t last for long. At the sight of the quiet joy on Y/N’s face, Hiccup can’t help but smile as well.
“What’s my next lesson?” Y/N asks.
“Flying,” Hiccup says. “Do you feel ready for that?”
Y/N glances back towards him, a cross look on her face. “I’m a Viking. I’m ready for anything.”
She laughs, though, and so does he. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Hiccup climbs onto Toothless, then extends a hand to help Y/N up as well. Toothless, to his credit, is quite gentle when going airborne, although Y/N still holds tight onto Hiccup just in case. He’s not sure that he minds, though. She doesn’t, either, because she keeps holding onto him, even after the flying turns smooth, even after the colors around them flit from saturation to saturation, as clouds frost their vision and the air grows cold from height.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Y/N announces as they soar over the sea. “Nothing about this is scary. I can’t believe I waited this long to figure that out.”
“It grows on you, doesn’t it?” Hiccup remarks. “All of a sudden, it’s the only thing you want to do.”
“Yeah,” Y/N says. “Exactly like that.”
When he looks back at her, Y/N’s expression is soft and sweet. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her like this, unafraid to be vulnerable, to let her real self shine through.
“Thanks for helping me,” she says quietly.
“Any time,” Hiccup promises, and he realizes he means it.
She smiles. “You have to be careful, I might take you up on that offer.”
Hiccup meets her gaze, and finds nothing but happiness there. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Below them, the waves surge, and the birds swoop. They fly on forever.
requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!
disney tag list: @avadakadabra93, @blondsauduun, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @faerieroyal, @goldfish4403
#hiccup#hiccup imagines#hiccup x reader#hiccup oneshot#hiccup haddock#hiccup haddock imagines#hiccup haddock x reader#hiccup haddock oneshot#httyd#httyd imagines#httyd x reader#httyd oneshot#how to train your dragon#how to train your dragon imagines#how to train your dragon x reader#how to train your dragon oneshot#httyd hiccup#httyd hiccup imagines#httyd hiccup x reader#httyd hiccup oneshot
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Hiccup x reader where Hiccup is stressed over being the chief of Berk and is extra clingy to reader?
Better Left Unsaid
Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Reader
Words: 14,022
You wondered if you would ever be able to touch the sky again. You don’t talk about it.
Tags: Httyd 2, Comfort, reconnection, resolution, suggestive content, Gender Neutral reader, reclusive reader (ish), reserved reader (ish), disappointment, rebound, oneshot, ambiguous ending
“It-It’s just too much,” Hiccup stuttered angrily, hushed. He shifted his arms, gesturing lightly but frustratedly with the mug in his shand, leaning against the wall. The water inside sloshed back and forth as he settled the mug down on the table with a thin clacking noise, pushing off against the wall.
It was silent, the empty dark of night all-consuming in a way that blocked everything else out. Even with passion in your voice, you probably still couldn’t speak louder than a gritty whisper.
The Haddock house was empty and dark, the fireplace in the center of the hut untouched as it has been for many nights since the passing of Stoick the Vast. Your basket sat abandoned by the door, washed over by a sheet of blue shadow.
“Maybe you need a system,” You suggested awkwardly, caught off guard as hiccup paced, too taken by his own trouble to care for much else. This wasn’t how you’d imagined any conversation between the two of you to go.
You saw each other around, of course, but events like those usually consisted of turned cheeks. It had been so long since you last talked, and it hadn’t quite ended on good terms.
“My Dad didn’t-” Limbre fingers struggled against the straps and buckles of his armor, inelegant and terse with frustration, Hiccup’s cinched brows and an angry grimace conveying everything you needed to know.
Usually nothing short of a stupid idea from his own head would get him out of it. Or a hard hit. You did your best to give him counsel anyways, despite your unsurety. He’d probably just been swept away by it all, falling back into old habits quickly.
He would snap out of it soon enough, though if he decided just as you did that you’d rather not address anything at all, you would certainly not complain.
“Your Dad didn’t have to deal with so many trappers or dragons.” You shook your head. You had to admit that you were somewhat disconnected from the matter. The two of you hadn’t been close for years, and you kept to yourself pretty closely. This whole situation was an accident, more of a wrong place, wrong time then anything done on purpose, per se.
You moved around the table, nearly stumbling as you went, suppressing a shiver as you shifted through the cold room, like an empty void. You wondered how Hiccup dealt with it.
You snorted.
Helping him out felt like crossing some sort of invisible boundary you usually avoided like the plague. But, you had pity on him and the dark circles underlining his eyes. You didn’t think he’d notice. It wasn’t something you worried much about, anyways, not since you were in your teens. That was a sore spot you’d rather not touch on.
“Isn’t a Chief supposed to be able to handle everything on his own? If I do that, then wouldn’t…” Hiccup trailed off into a contemplative, moody silence, glaring off to the side as you did your best to pull his straps free. You weren’t much better with them than he was now, but it was workable, “I’m supposed to be- Wouldn’t that prove that I’m not-…”
He looked somewhat like his father, with that expression, though the skinny frame and his wild, scruffy hair offset it somewhat.
His father was large and tough, but something you noticed about Stoick, even from a distance, was that he was stressed. And angry, all the time. He knew what to do and when to do it but couldn’t handle a lot. Not always. You could imagine the veins bulging from his forehead now, even from beyond the grave.
You weren’t sure Hiccup was ever supposed to be like him. If he was supposed to even try. Him being Chief wasn’t ever something you imagined even as kids, just as he probably never imagined it for himself, but you were sure if he pulled something together it might be manageable.
“You’ve always been enough for whatever you wanted,” You muttered, “You’ve been enough since before the dragons and you are enough now as Chief. Coming up with some sort of system isn’t... bad. You Dad had a system,” You winced, watching his expression carefully as you brought up his Dad, though you were sure that not much would reach him when he was in this state, “Your father had a second-in-command for a reason, you know.”
“My inventions, they’re not-” Hiccup groaned. You heard the unsaid question. But wouldn’t that be cheating?
“They’re just as a part of you as anything else.” You repeated the age-old adage, “It doesn’t have to be in invention, though, if you don’t want it to be. Just… Establish a chain of command, or something.”
Hiccup threw his head back, scrubbing his face with his hands. Then he looked back at you, as if he was just then realizing who he was talking to.
“The island probably won’t implode without you. They’re Vikings, they need a little lead, just trust me.”
Sometimes you were fine, and sometimes your disappointment followed you like a sheet over your eyes, something buzzing constantly around the periphery of your vision, bits stuck to the back of your boots like poorly spun wool.
You crunched through the grass on the far end of the bridge leading up to the village, nerves coiling in your guts briefly before you brushed them away.
Such was the life of a recluse.
You squinted as you marched across large wooden planks, confident in the sturdiness of the bring just as you were unconfident in what lay before you, a figure sitting with their head down on one of the large logs that made up the railing.
It was a common sight for people to sit by the edge, usually teens, usually with friends, a stolen jug of mead or two in hand on dark nights. It was also a good spot for contemplation. You’d use it many times, especially on rainy, foggy days. It made quite the atmosphere.
However, during the broad daylight, people usually tended to just come and go. They didn’t spend much longer there than they had to. To be honest, most people had dragons. There were many more interesting places up in the sky. You didn’t get that. You dragon, it left a long time ago.
You shifted your basket of foraged berries and sticks and bits under your arm and grimaced confusedly as you neared the figure, closely examining dark gray armor and a worn, untucked green undershirt.
“Hello, Chief,” You said plaintively, after you’d spent a few seconds stopped being him, looking down on hunched shoulders and frazzled flyaways.
He groaned, “Please don’t call me that.”
You snorted, gently resting your basket on the ground, making sure all the latches were secured tight over the lid. It got pretty windy up there, wouldn’t do you any good to lose all of your day’s hard work, “What brings you over to my small neck of the woods?”
You shrugged at his silence, relaxing the the hand on your hip before swinging your legs over the same log and planting yourself firmly to his left
“I can’t do this,” Hiccup mumbled exhaustively, without looking up.
You stuck out your tongue, leaning back onto your hands, which pressed against the warm surface of the wood pleasantly. It took you a moment to remember that you should probably come up with a follow-up question, “Why?”
You were a bit rusty.
“I can’t do this,” Hiccup turned briefly to give you a sour look. You stuck your tongue out at him.
“Okay,” You shrugged your shoulders, ever the loyal confidant.
So you were going the whole ‘ignore the Gronkle in the room,’ route. You could deal with that.
You wondered where Toothless was. He’d taken to his Alpha statues pretty well, as in, he did nothing to enforce it at all, so there was nothing for him to worry about. Come to think about it, it really was just Hiccup, managing both Vikings and Dragons.
Hiccup shot a look at you again, perhaps asking himself what was wrong with you. Below you, the sea rushed and lulled, storming over the jagged rocks below. You watched it like a snake on a mouse, hypnotic in its movements.
“It’s not. There’s so much to keep track of and,” Hiccup started, continuing on, shaking his head, “Everyone’s always got something- this isn’t like- it’s not like my Dad’s just on a vacation. He’s dead. I’ve never taken care of something this long-term. And Astrid-... I’m not so great at the whole ‘commanding’ thing.”
The split with Astrid was rough on him, you knew. He didn’t talk about it much at all, but everyone could tell it was weighing down on him. People talked, and you didn’t necessarily have to be a part of the conversation to overhear.
You hummed sympathetically, as a group of people started to gather on one end of the bridge. You weren’t sure if Hiccup had noticed it yet, though you were sure if he had he was ignoring it for the time being.
“You don’t have to command. You just have to be able to direct,” Most people sort of expected Astrid to be there for the whole commanding thing, but honestly you resented the idea, despite the accuracy of it in practice, “I know a guy who would be willing to handle the stables for a day. Johannes, you remember him, right?”
They, meaning Hiccup and Astrid, were both busy with their own responsibilities, so you didn’t think they had a lot of time to talk it out. It was strange. For the longest time, second to Toothless, of course, she’d been his best friend. The thought sent a sharp, bitter jab up your spine.
You rolled your eyes anyways. A lot of Vikings would give a lot to be able to be in charge of something. As you grew older, you started to realize that Stoick the Vast had a hand in everything. Maybe too much of a hand- that man was stretched thin, “The whole commanding, intimidating bit is Toothless’s job now.”
“Yeah,” Hiccup choked out.
From the corner of your eye, you noticed a pack of Vikings already halfway to you, encroaching from the Berk side of the bridge, arms waving in the air. You looked away for a moment with furrowed brows, beginning to scoot back with high caution, trying your hardest to not make any sudden moves.
“When’s the last time you did something for yourself?” You asked, “Gone to the forge, or flown out?”
“I have no idea,” Hiccup wheezed.
“When’s your next lull? It’s a lot easier for me to say it than for you to do it, but you should probably, you know, take a step back,” You suggested.
“Never,” Hiccup gestured with his hand, other arm pressed against his back, “This is it, for the rest of my life.”
You grimaced, shrugging pityingly as you heard the distant shout of his name, and watched Hiccup crumple in on himself again as the two of you met eyes.
You were a bit surprised by how easy conversation flowed between you, though you were sure whether you wanted to run or just shy away from it. You weren’t sure if you felt anything for it at all.
You shook your head, deciding very astutely on the running bit, swinging back onto solid ground and gently lifting up your shoulders. You hooked your fingers under the edge of your basket and pulled it into your arms, settling it smoothly in hand.
“Well, when your life’s over, I’ll be here. We’ll, ah, figure it out then, I guess.”
You lifted your tunic from your back, tugging until you were able to twist it over your head.
As you did, you eyed the portraits of the wives taken off and replaced, hung lower on the wall and decorated with each of their assets. You’d found them lying around and it felt wrong not to return them to their original owners somehow. They were usually separated from the rest of your dwelling by a thin, old moth-eaten curtain.
You were sure the wives were all just as ugly and unpleasant as Mildew himself, but there was something off about taking them down especially when you kept everything else close to the same.
You patched the hole in the roof with old ship’s sails and mismatched tiles, just enough to keep your cabin barely above freezing in the wintertime.
You shook your clothes onto the floor as you changed, mindful not to look down at any of the scars in the darkness of your hut.
You were probably supposed to feel proud. They were trophies of battle. Most other Vikings would wear them proudly, displayed like an honor bestowed onto them. They didn’t particularly bother you, though it never bode well to linger on reminders of things long since finished.
If only they knew how you’d gotten them.
You didn’t earn them through bravery or anything else of the sort and you weren’t anywhere near one of the worst when it came to scarring. First place probably went to Phegma, who had a huge burn scar just barely covered by her day wear.
You got yours because you weren’t fast enough to dodge the blow of an axe, to jump out the way of a trap sprung on the group without taking some serious damage.
You were a great planner, an architect and an infrastructural thinker. But that didn’t often come in handy on the Edge, especially not when all the buts of your knowledge that could be applied were better covered by the other Riders’ areas of expertise.
So where everyone else excelled, you stumbled. Where everyone else tumbled with the blows, you fell hard onto the ground, and you hadn’t anyone to confide your hurts in.
Eventually trying to keep up got to be too much. When you saw the rest of them, able to come together so easily and shake off all their cuts and injuries, you hurt.
There was nothing quite as terrible as watching everyone, especially Hiccup, walk forwards while you strayed behind, struggling your hardest and failing to even to keep to their heels.
You blinked at the scratching of something sharp against wooden walls, muffled though still clearly audible, coming from the outside. You paid it no mind, ignoring it just as you ignored the tiny shafts of sunlight seeping through the cracks between wooden planks and crumbling walls, illuminating tiny particles of floating dust.
It was just the branches pestering the framework of your salvaged home, one of the half-dead bushes lining the front, nearing the height of a tree, mimicking the sound of a dragon you’d long since pushed from your mind. Yours.
You sighed. It was just another thing weighing on your mind back then, when you’d been at your lowest. You were tired of it, now. But a blank kind of tired.
Like a flat, fresh water ocean. Waveless, shallow. Eerie.
It was a much calmer tired than the kind you felt then; Violent waves slamming you into the sand, rubbing fragile lungs raw with grit and silt. Of the bruised ribs, the fighting, the cuts and hurt no one seemed to notice and the friend you didn’t seem good enough to have anymore.
You reached down to pull your tunic off the ground, tossing it onto a nearby table, covered in dust, made frail through disuse. You coughed at the fine grime tossed into the air, flapping your hand in front of your nose in an effort to disperse it.
You wondered if the sealights would be lit tonight.
“-He has five dragons. Five. And he wants me to come up with a whole set of dragon towers for him how?-”
You trod through the dewey morning leaves, back straighter than necessary, trying not to sweat too much or to look back at the armorless, green-tunic-ed guest at your back.
You couldn’t say you weren’t a little tired of the whole running Berk it yourself. Sure, you weren’t necessarily responsible for it but it was a pastime of a lot of the Vikings around town to talk about it, the mindless gossips, and once or twice while you were in town trading for what you needed.
There were also the sailors, who had a mind, when down by the docks, to share the business of everyone regardless of the tribe. Even as the village recluse, you got roped into it, listening around corners with rap ears
“-Even with dragons it’s not easy to-” Hiccup waved his hands around, journaling under one arm and eyes glued, glaring onto the ground. It turns out he had taken you at your word. Sort of. He was still very much alive. He must have found some time off, or figured out something, because here he was.
You squinted at the paper in your hand, staring at messily done blueprints. There was a house sketched lifted above the ground by a pole and another sketch of a bunch of regular huts stacked on top of each other. You held the same basket from before under your arm, woven bits frayed and flexible and worn.
You recognized the beginning stages of a bunch of these sorts of huts being built all around Berk. It was getting fuller, especially with all of the ex-trappers and Vikings migrating in from the other tribes. And then there were relations outside of the interpersonal to manage. So of course there needed to be a few changes.
“This isn’t safe,” You said drily, “Remember the windmill? These are all going to fall down with the next devastating winter. And where are we going to find logs large and long enough to keep all these houses up? There aren’t nearly enough trees on all of Berk to get this done for everyone.”
“I know!” Hiccup pausing, turning to shake his head quickly, before bending over to scrub the hair on his head, “It’s insane! Everyone wants me to go with it!”
“You shouldn’t,” You deadpanned.
“I might,” Hiccup pursed his lips, “If it gets them to leave me alone. I can’t be builder, Rider and Chief.”
“Well- no, you can’t be. But why don’t you just come up with a few sturdy designs and make him choose one. Same for everyone else. Then just,” You paused, grimacing as you had to grab a branch, pushing it out of the way, “Put someone in charge of building all of them. And making sure they don’t go build in all the wrong spots.”
“I don’t know,” Hiccup shrugged his shoulders, letting his arms fall back to his sides, turning his head up and allowing the light filtering through the thick wooded area to fall onto his face, “Everyone wants something unique. You think they’ll settle?”
You turned around, branch still in hand, “They’ll have to. Same way they have been for three hundred years.”
You rolled your eyes and set forth again, letting go of the branch, which swung back quickly. You didn’t quite see what happened any more than you heard Hiccup’s yelp and the subsequent step back.
“Ow, ow, ow ow, Gods, curse it-”
You turned back around startled, turning back into the branch which followed its inertia, snapping back into your face.
You brought your hand back up to your eye so quickly you smacked, dropping your trusty basket right out from under your arm and falling roughly onto your butt. The berries on the inside poured out of your basket onto the forest floor and you cursed, bemoaning it and yourself and laying the rest of the way down onto your back.
Head against the roots of a tree, smelling the earth and staring up at the dappled sunlight through waving tree leaves, you couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up through your throat.
It was better than getting mad, or crying. Still, you stifled it, shaking your head clear, pushing yourself back up, ignoring the stickiness of the berries stuck to your back and the juice dripping down the side of your hand.
Hiccup looked down on you skeptically, lips quirked in a way you read as confused. You remembered a time when he might have fallen down with you. It seems though that as the two of you got older, he became much surer of yourself.
Still, it was a world of difference from the Hiccup you knew a moment ago, stressed and weighted and tired with all the burdens of everyone else on Berk and the loss of his father on his back.
You wanted to see more of this Hiccup, who was snippy and sarcastic and who you might have loved once upon a time. Who wasn’t stuck in mournful contemplation about identities and relationships and other such sad things.
And maybe you wanted to take back some of him for yourself, as if it might bring back to you the part of yourself you lost, at least for just this little while. Though if this was where it ended, for you, this moment would be more than enough.
He needed reprieve. You decided you would be that reprieve, for as long as he would take you.
“Why don’t we do something besides talk about Berk?” You smiled wryly to yourself, rubbing your hands off on your smock, shrugging your shoulders loose once you got back onto your feet.
You did your best to put on a happier facade, different from the insecure, hunched-shouldered version of you from way back in the past, and different from the apathetic lone figure you were now.
“I…” Hiccup blinked at you for a moment. He looked a tad thrown off by you now with your shoulders high, hands on your waist and back straight, much different from any sort of behavior you’d exhibited since long before.
The wide smirk on your face faltered, and you toned it down a little, slumping a bit. You knew you hadn’t had the ability to make Hiccup smile in a long time, but this was just terrible. Sometimes you wondered if you ever had, or if he was just faking it. It didn’t matter much to you now.
“Or, you can come with me and wait outside while I go find a change of clothes,” You said blankly, letting your hands fall to your sides, “Your pick.”
Hiccup grimaced, probably thinking of the greeting he’d get once he got back. You weren’t quite sure how he made it out here in the first place, and in his casual wear no less. You hadn’t seen him in anything less than a full set of leather armor for a very long time.
Of course, he’d chosen the latter. Sort of.
You let the water from the stream run over the toes of your boots, waterproofed by tar and oil as you pulled up your smock, scrubbed until it was worn and back to the same colorless dull hue you had gotten it in. It was to your benefit that you had worn something under, though the berries were much too pigmented for you to leave your smock on its lonesome.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” You sighed, picking yourself up and away from the beck, slinging your water heavy clothing over a low-hanging branch.
You turned to look at Hiccup who had decided to wait by the treeline, back to one of the large pines lining the whole island. He had found himself a terror along the way and was minding it with amusement, waving a thin branch above its head and watching and it leapt and curled after.
“It’s alright,” He said almost bashfully, without looking up, as the Terror flipped onto its belly, wriggling after the branch Hiccup waved over its stomach like a fish to a worm, “I, ah, I got Johannes to handle the stables.”
Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck as you pulled down your sleeves, picking at the loose threads and checking for any unpleasant damp spots, of which, for once, thankfully, there were few.
“You took my advice, then,” You noted absentmindedly that this was the tunic you’d worn on the Edge, its color washed out and much thinner, but still very recognizable.
“Yeah,” Hiccup weighed the stick in his hand almost contemplatively before tossing it to the side, watching as the terror scurried after.
“So,” You said, sweeping your foot almost carelessly across the carpeted forest floor, pulling your basket into your arms again, “How have you been?”
“How have I been?” Hiccup asked astoundedly even as he eyed your smock, reluctantly pulling his gaze from it in order to follow as you led your way back up to the forest path, “I think you know the answer to that.”
“Yes, well, no- I mean, from before that,” You scoffed, looking down darkly into your nearly empty basket.
You meant after you left.
You felt the familiar pulling of tides, tugging at something deep and light in your gut.
The air was still between you. It was hard not to feel when there was nothing between you but air and your own memory of some hastily forgotten hurts.
“That was a stupid question,” You shrugged, kicking aside a stick, protruding from just off the path.
You were sure Hiccup had been too stressed earlier to care or notice but it was easily felt now. Your quarters were much too close for you to put on the same old facade and pretend that nothing had ever happened and that the two of you weren’t ever more than strangers, your bond closely resembling something you might have once called friendship.
“I… Well, if you don’t mind tagging along still, I won’t make you do much,” You pushed down thoughts of beating storms, rain so thick you couldn’t see five feet in front of you, “You caught me off guard.”
You blinked away memories of rushing, towering waves and a bone-deep chill only made worse by the pressing winds and the water soaked deep through your clothes and to your bones, causing you to shiver and shake and pull closer to the neck of your dragon.
Pressing deeper into leathery skin and scales, closer than you ever thought possible, praying to the Gods that you might be spared the indignity of living to see another day past your shame, past your desertion.
“Alright,” Hiccup decided finally, eyeing you oddly.
You pretended you didn’t feel the phantom shivers clawing up and down your spine or the echoes of a deep burning hurt you were certain had gone long since unnoticed by all the wrong people.
You made sure your breathing was steady as you marched forward, carefully putting one foot in front of the other.
You listened to the occasional wingbeat of a dragon from up above and the unburdened twittering of small animals in the foliage surrounding you.
You heard Hiccup stifle a yawn from back behind you. You wondered what you could do to make this trip worth it for him. To be honest, you weren’t quite expecting him to take you up on your offer. It was more of a snipe, really.
You’d never been good at those, though. People always took you much too seriously.
There was a clearing up further ahead to your left, one you neared as the trees grew thicker and larger, where you could hopefully make up for some of your lost boon. The berries, you were sure they were gone, but perhaps you could make up for it by finding some other things.
The loudest noise between the two of you was the sound of your footsteps.
You inhaled the misty air of the forest and, eventually, you began to relax.
“Here we are,” You hummed, as the path grew lighter, sunlight filtering between the trees and the foliage.
You examined the crown with care, looking over each leaf and link, turning it around gently in your hands. What began as a task born from boredom became something you invested yourself into with brief interest.
The atmosphere was bright and the sun warm against your shoulder blades, laying like a heavy furred blanket across them as you leaned down, splitting small holes in the ends with your fingernails and threading grasses through until you had some approximation of a flower crown, minus the flowers.
It was the kind of warmth that made you sentimental, bringing up a feeling that felt like something flowering, which you pursued vaguely as if this might have been the last time you ever felt it.
By the time you two had been teenagers, Hiccup had been long since uninterested in that kind of thing. In teenage boy fashion, he avoided things such as flower crowns and playing in the sand down by the beach, much too focused on killing a Dragon and trying to seem tough enough to meet standard.
Then he got Toothless, and from there on after he hadn’t time for anything but Dragons and the Riders. He was too absorbed in his inventions to pay any mind to other things.
You’d deeply wanted to do it, though maybe not always specifically to him, but you’d never found the purpose. You had it now.
You turned to Hiccup with a lopsided smile, watching his chest rise and fall gently for a few moments. Your lips twitched, falling into a small crown as you held out the crown, deciding whether or not you should drop it.
Hiccup blinked drowsily awake at the sudden movement, to which you startled and before you realized it, the crown had gently slipped from your fingers and fell over the crown of his head. Because of the angle, though, it looked to be resting more on his forehead than anything.
You held your breath as his eyes unfocused and fluttered shut again, unregistering, and you backed up on all fours with quiet ease, pushing yourself to your feet, attempting to flee the scene and pretend nothing had quiet happened at all.
You shuffled to the other side of the clearing, craving distance, walking a path around it like you were attempting to trace the edges with your feet. You balanced on it, placing your heel to the other foot’s toe and then again with the opposite foot, arms out in front of you, taking note of all the shrubbery around you.
Eventually the shifting ferns drew back your attention and you glanced back towards Hiccup, who’d sat up groggily, slowly examining the crown that had probably, most likely just fallen from his head.
He looked a complete and utter mess. You hid an ugly grin.
“I hope you like it,” You smiled down at the stem connecting a nice wad of berries to the bush. It was too quiet for him to hear and you were much too far away, but it was more of a musing to yourself anyways.
You leaned back onto your heels, sore for all the walking you’d done. You wondered if they were the right kind, enough to replace the bushel you’d lost earlier. You weren’t completely sure they were edible, anyways.
The two of you had broken out into a clearing, one covered in grass and ferns, and this was where you had decided to set midday camp.
You lounged there in the waning sun, Hiccup more so than you, not so much watching the world turn to oranges and reds as witnessing it in your periphery. You’d lived it too many times for it to be any sort of novel.
You were sure it was different on dragonback, but alas. You didn’t have that option.
After you came back to Berk, taking to the ground like you’d developed a phobia of everything else, it spent a lot of time flying around on its own, going who-knows-where on most days. One day, when you’d had the mind to look for it, you’d found that it had flown off for what was most likely good.
You traced the leaf veins below your thumb, lost in mindless remembrance, ambiguously aware as Hiccup got up.
He groaned like he was a decades older man than he was, audible across the clearing, while putting his hands to the small of his back and leaning backwards mad before he made his way over.
“What’s this?” Hiccup asked, holding what you were sure was the crown in his hand. You weren’t looking and ignored it, not necessarily expecting him to call you out on it any more than you’d expected to make the crown itself.
“Not sure,” You said, before looking over, and glancing up and down at ruffled clothes, messy hair and the sleeve that came up to wipe off the corner of his mouth, “Have a nice nap?”
“I’m just fine, thanks… “
You rolled your eyes, “That wasn’t my question.”
“Does it matter?” He asked, straightening out his shoulders.
“You were out for a while,” You said in lieu of an answer, “Was worried you needed me to drag you back to the village. Tuck you into bed.”
“No,” Hiccup said exorbitantly, “Never.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” You shot back.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely…” Hiccup started, “An exaggeration.”
“Not at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Everyone’s had their share of it,” You stated, lifting your shoulders exaggeratedly, bringing both hands up by your head with your shrug, while kicking out your foot, turning to trot off in the opposite direction.
“You do a lot of really-need-to-be-dragged-back-after activities.”
“Hey, well, I’ve done a lot of that for you, too.”
“Pick one, name something.”
“I mean, I’ve kept you from falling down off cliffs a lot,” Hiccup ran a hand through his hair.
“I have since not stopped falling off cliffs,” You squinted at him, “And neither have you, I’m pretty sure. Also, that jumping off dragons thing? Serious disqualifier. That counts as at least half a cliff jump every time. Negative helping-me-out points. Honest.”
“What?” Hiccup shook his head, gesturing towards himself, “Doesn’t count. Never met a dragon that didn’t have my back. Natural Dragon Master. No danger.”
A natural if by natural he meant through fifteen years of absolute failure in any sort of interaction with an animal more sentient than a frog.
“Sure…” You remembered all the time he spent as kids, half with you and sometimes without, running across rooftops for his dad. Because you were being chased. By dragons.
“Okay, call me a dragon, right now.” You said, with finality.
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
You spent a little while staring at him.
“What, now?”
You nodded.
You were slightly surprised when he played along, even though you knew you had been egging him on to do it. You watched him cup his hands and chitter oddly into them, in a mimicry of what you understood as a Terror call.
You looked down on him with fake skepticism. Usually, with the call, it was a hit or miss whether a dragon would respond. The dragons with Riders tended to ignore you completely unless you were their rider.
Both of you knew this, though you counted it on being a miss.
“They’re coming, you’ll see,” Hiccup said, waving his left hand as if he was clearing smoke out of the air.
“I hope it blows up in your face. Like that catapult, from when we were kids,” You blew a raspberry at him.
“What, which one?” Hiccup asked.
“The one you tried to roll up to your house, kept rolling down the hill, went straight through Burthair’s cart and smashed through his fence,” You grinned, “Your dad made you round up all his sheep after, remember?”
You remembered trying to help him quietly in secret, gathering a few sheep on a lead before you were caught and sent home to be scolded.
“No, hey, You blew that one up,” Hiccup said incredulously, “That one was all you.”
“Yeah, it was.” You admitted guiltlessly.
“You are the worst,” He said, as the sound of flapping and the rustling of trees grew slightly louder. You ignored it, thinking it was just another random group of dragons lost over Berk. There had been a lot of those as of late.
“The worst,” You agreed. You had a foot already up, halfway into a turn before a bright yellow, spiny body slammed quickly into your face.
You yelped, falling to the side, tumbling slightly as what must have been a Terrible terror scrambled for purchase and left off your face and into the tree line. You blinked, half-shaded under low-hanging branches.
You braced yourself against your arm, bringing your other hand down from your face to see red in the shape of a smeared line across your face. By the look and size of it, it wasn’t too bad.
You opened and closed your jaw with annoyance, realizing quickly that the Terror must have scratched your face.
Henceforth, though, you were much more easily capable of dodging around the sudden appearance of more Terrors, catching a tiny green one just before it face planted into the dirt.
“Woah, woah, woah,” You caught Hiccup, too, doing his best to dodge around them, jumping back as a feisty blue clawed its way up his back as he made his way towards you.
It was a difficult effort to make as by the time you had found solid ground, the dragons began to jump on top of him, covering his arms and legs so that he looked like a pile of very large and colorful bees standing on two legs.
You could help but laugh, wobbling over to help. You slipped your hand under the leg of a terror just before Hiccup fell over with a shout, falling forwards and nearly dragging you with him as he tumbled into the shade of the treeline.
And as if following a command, terrors scuttled away, as if chasing after your peals of laughter, echoing around the clearing.
There wasn’t nearly enough time between Hiccup’s call and the appearance of the dragons for any, or at least most of them to have come in from Berk, nor any guarantee that any of the Terrors heard him, but these gathered quick enough for you to be seriously impressed.
“Yeah… I wasn’t expecting that either.” You stared down at Hiccup as he stared back, the two of you looking at each other with startled eyes, you bent half over and Hiccup propper up on his elbows on the ground before the two of you broke out into breathy laughter.
The flowers and plants around you were heady, filling the breathless airheadedness in between your eyes with even more cotton.
Your voices mixed and quieted in equal fashion, the two of you ignoring the mutterings of the forest until, eventually, they grew into something you could hear.
“Hiccup!”
You froze, a wince stuck on your face.
“Hiccup!” This shout was much more drawn than the last.
It was Astrid.
You saw the shadows of her and Stormfly drift smoothly over the face of the clearing. You wondered if she had followed some of the Terrors out or if she had gotten Stormfly to track Hiccup’s scent.
You were about to look back at Hiccup for some sort of direction before he tugged you after him. Tugged until the two of you were huddled under the alcove you had missed, made by two thick roots of a ginormous tree, waiting.
You weren’t sure how far above she was, she hoped she didn’t see your basket, sitting plainly across the way.
You could tell Hiccup was holding his breath, staring out deep into the forest, where trees went from towering to the sole consumers of light, protecting a misty undergrowth beneath a dark, leafy roof. There was a log to the left of the entrance to the narrow space, half-rotted and sprouting mushrooms out of its side.
You recalled that there had been a notable instance around when the two of you had been just about twelve, sneaking around in the Great Hall for the leftovers post meal. You’d been trapped in a closet, when they’d had those, removed after you and Hiccup had accidentally burned them down at fourteen, with nothing but a loaf of bread between you.
The air wasn’t nearly as musty or stale, and of course it was much darker then, with not the whiff of a fresh plant in sight, but the principal was still the same.
You held very little stake in it all, but you kept close and stiff anyways, the joyful atmosphere from before mixing into something fun and scurrilous, electrifying the space behind your eyes and sending ticklish bolts of lightning down your spine.
It remained there until the heavy wing beats of the Dragons above you faded long into the distance.
The field, littered with scented flowers and bushes, must have muddled Stormfly’s scent. Or she really was just following the Terrors. One thing was sure, though. Where there was one Rider, there were more.
“I thought you said you got people to cover it?” You asked.
“I did. They should have been able to, but something must have happened,” Hiccup leaned back against the tree bark, hitting the back of his head against it lightly, grunting lightly as it did.
You wondered if he had grown a few inchest still since you had last been close to him on the Edge.
You raised your eyebrow, asking the silent question. Are you going to go back?
Hiccup said nothing, looking away, though you couldn’t miss the soft clench of his jaw and the gentle slouch, or the agitated twiddling of his fingers by his waist.
You rolled your eyes. Privately, you almost felt bad that you weren’t able to give him a better time out. But also, there would be many other times for him to make up for it with other people. You wondered if he would ever choose to come back to you.
“They should be able to handle it. They’re not children. But it’s no burden on me whether you stay or go,” You inclined your head forwards.
You placed one foot in front of the other across the uneven wooden planks. You just needed to get down to the fields.
You strode past the bright red hut that marked the Jorgenon Clan, avoiding haphazardly placed construction materials.
You paused where you stood and turned back as Hiccup called your name, standing right in the middle of the walkway. It never ceased to surprise you whenever he showed up.
It wasn’t much. But it still surprised you every time he came with greetings.
You smiled.
He quickened his pace, pulling himself up onto the path and stopping in front of you, prosthetic clicking against wood.
“Hiccup,” You greeted, “What brings you to me?”
“Where do you live, now?” He asked, “I was planning on stopping by, but…”
“Up behind the spire on the way to Gothi’s,” You hummed.
“But that’s… You live in Mildew’s old hut?” Hiccup asked, surprised.
“Yeah,” You nodded, rifling through the satchel clipped to your waist, flicking through rows of herbs with delicately placed fingertips, “So what have you been up to?”
You realized you needed to go off-island soon. The idea filled you with dread.
“Do you really want to ask that?” Hiccup questioned, “because there’s been a lot…”
“Why not?” You shrugged.
“Some rouge dragons have been eating holes into the earth- and with all the dragons underwater, coupled with the Scauldrons-” Hiccup rubbed his forehead, “Basically, they’ve been drilling new hot springs, which has been nice, but no one’s gotten to any of them yet. They always seem to dry up before anyone can get there and back and I keep getting complaints about people’s water getting stolen, or something.”
“Ouch,” You said sympathetically, as Hiccup continued on.
“I wish they’d give it up, honestly. There are more important things for me to get to, but I haven’t even been able to get to all the trading issues with all the other tribes… Anyways, are you busy?” Hiccup asked quickly, looking back and forth.
“Busy?” You asked.
“I kinda want to get out of here before anyone else…” Hiccup shrugged his shoulders, cringing.
“Notices?” You finished, “Let’s go.”
“A hot spring?” You asked aloud, both your and Hiccup grasping the edge of the pool on your knees, watching the water bubble slightly.
Hiccup extended a hand hesitantly, grazing it over the bubbling surface. You watched as the foam fizzled underneath his palms and when he didn't flinch, you sat back and pulled off your boots, rolling up the legs of your trousers, revealing a long scar on the leg furthest Hiccup.
“It’s alright to wash in?” You asked, Hiccup nodding an affirmative.
You rested a bare foot onto the bubbling water, testing it out with your toes, before sinking your legs in with a breathy sigh.
“It’s one of the ones you were talking about, right?” You asked
“Yeah,” Hiccup confirmed, watching you closely.
You let out a soft, disappointed sound at the idea that it might be gone soon.
The spring looked to be about waist-deep, though that might be something you needed to test out before dipping into the pool. It was pressed up and partially embedded in the side of a rocky cliff, spearing into the ground at a sideways angle.
All around, the two of you were packed in by large, lush fauna. Huge ferns, even larger trees and a great deal of mist.
Very, very private.
It was extremely tempting.
“We could… It would be nice, but…” Hiccup reasoned. He didn’t seem into the idea, which was fine. Honestly, you didn’t mind having this spot all to yourself.
There wasn’t much of a practical way to sink into the waters without stripping nearly bare anyways. Hiccup’s armor would most definitely be damaged by the water, and you didn’t like the idea of marching back to Berk in sopping wet furs.
Your undergarments certainly weren’t up to scratch for the kind of soak you were looking for.
“We don’t have a change of clothes.” You said, meeting his eyes head on. The two of you looked at each other for a moment.
Hiccup must have followed the same line of thought, looking at you like he’d caught something odd and he didn’t know what to do with it. There was an odd feeling curling in your stomach, and an awkwardness that hadn’t been so palmable between you since before… Before.
Did it really matter if he saw you naked? Or at least clothed only partially? It wasn’t as if you’d never seen him the same during all your years of semi-sturdy friendship.
You spent a moment feeling the skin on your face begin to warm, brows crinkling with a remembrance that sort of killed the mood before you glanced away with as much casualness as you could muster.
“Do you think we could get back in time?” You asked instead.
“Well, there’s not much hope, but I guess it’s worth a try,” Hiccup started hesitantly.
You and Hiccup stared down at the small bubbling hole at the base of an empty basin. It had been an awkward walk back to the Village. Still, you seemed incapable of suggesting anything else. Hiccup, too.
“Gods damn it,” Hiccup said.
You shrugged, the roll of cloth under your hands shifting only slightly. Besides the tarp strapped to your back and the towels to Hiccup’s, the both of you were carrying a set of undergarments you found which should have covered just enough to remain modest in the springs.
Toothless, behind the two of you, basket in mouth, grumbled as he dropped it to the tall grass floor. You’d brought him along in order to help carry the bulk of your things.
“Well,” You started, puzzling to yourself, hand under your chin, “I mean, we could try what you did last time? With the Terrors?”
“But with a Scauldron, right?”
You nodded, “Honestly, it’s that or head back.”
Hiccup winced, immediately backing away to settle down onto one knee. He was turned to face your right, so that he was looking out towards the forest.
He opened his mouth and cupped his hands, then paused. Then he tried again. But no sound game out. The whole time Toothless looked peeved, eyes shifting between the two of you as he snorted.
You stared blankly, waiting, which was probably the first time you and Toothless ever felt the same sort of emotion, though you most likely meant it in a much more joking fashion than he did.
“I can’t do it with you watching,” Hiccup said, finally.
You squinted at him, wondering what was up with the sudden-onset stage fright, just as Toothless rolled his eyes, shaking his torso like a wet dog, causing a hastily-clipped basket to fall off his saddle.
“Oh,” You said, turning around and grinning to yourself, “Alright. Howl away.”
You hoped he hadn’t figured out how to get to the fish basket yet. It would be a pain to walk back to Berk with everything in hand, and it would be very easy for Toothless to leave without his incentive to follow the hostage on his back.
“It’s not howling.” Hiccup deadpanned.
You knew that. You were actually pretty decent at it, back when you were still involved in the dragon business.
“Alright.”
You stared out at a heavy wall of fauna, a large leaf and a towering set of two trees consuming the vast majority of your vision. You watched a bug crawl up the exterior of one and noted to yourself silently that you would have to watch where you rested your things while you were in the spring, if what Hiccup was trying was to work.
You listened to him shift and shuffle, moving around until Toothless must have gotten tired of waiting and he himself let out a loud, echoing roar.
You jumped back, caught off guard, jerking towards the pair with your ears covered by your hands, undergarments, falling to the grass below.
“How long do you think it will take to fill up?” You asked from the floor, hips sinking into the grass as you pushed yourself up, shrugging the straps holding the large cloth tarp in place off your shoulders.
“Not sure,” Hiccup said, shifting from foot to foot, “We should get changed first.”
“Yeah,” You agreed, tossing it over to him. He weighed it in his hands, examining it before pulling it free and letting it unravel onto the floor.
“Hey, do you have any idea where we packed the blanket?” You asked. It was a bit overkill, but… You bit your lip.
“In the saddle, I think.”
You inhaled touchily as Hiccup gripped onto the edge of the tarp, turning from you to throw the other end out, watching it unfurl as it caught air, “Ah, do you think you could get it?”
Swiftly though not without ungain, Hiccup slung the tarp over one of the low-hanging branches, the ends of the fabric falling horizontally over the thick grasses and bushes around you.
You supposed that meant the tarp was unnecessary, the forest here enough to bless you with cover and privacy. You noted that down.
“What? He’s harmless,” Hiccup said, letting the curtain fall closed behind him.
You squinted into the sky, up through a very small window, shafting light down through the trees. You would have worried that no other dragons would heed Toothless’ call, knowing that you yourself wouldn’t, had you not already heard the hurried beating of wings from up above.
You stuck your tongue out at Hiccup, then turned it towards his dragon.
Honestly, it was still unimaginable to you that Toothless had developed the ability to become Alpha. It was insane, and insanely lucky. For Hiccup, that is.
The two of you, meaning you and Toothless, had never been left alone in the same room together for a reason, though most people just thought it was your fault. The reason being that Toothless didn’t like you, and you didn’t like him as a result of that.
Harmless… Right. You scoffed.
You knew you knew better and you reassured yourself of that fact, as Toothless grumbled at you from across the small space.
Hiccup shook his head at you, quirking the corner of his mouth to the side as it formed a fondly exasperated line, unclipping various satchels and baskets from Toothless’ back.
You grimaced and scooted further away from the dragon, nudging the basket of fish closer to him with your foot, hoping that he might take more of an interest in that instead.
You kept your eyes trained on the dragon even as Hiccup walked to his side with his clothes under his arm shuffling through the treeline and behind the curtain.
“You have enough room?” You squinted at Toothless, resting your arms against your knees, and he narrowed them back.
It had been a tricky job to get his things without anyone else noticing, a lot of careful pressing around corners and tricky, calculated jabs from Toothless, many of which you were still bitter about.
“It’s enough,” Hiccup responded, voice trained.
The scaly thing was still grumpy; the chances of him soldering a grudge were high, especially where you were involved. The two of you called him away from a tussle with some other dragons from around the bend, which he seemed to be enjoying by at least some measure.
If only he’d put some of that energy into being a more attentive Alpha. You wrinkled your nose, judging the dragon like a temperamental parent.
You listened to the shifting of leaves, fabric and leather before deciding you’d been waiting too long, much too used to doing things on your own time.
“I’m just going to change over here,” You called through the curtain, “Turn around, will you?” You asked Toothless, who grumbled at you disgruntledly, the ridges of his brows as furrowed as he could make them.
“Turn around, Toothless,” Hiccup confirmed from behind the curtain.
He shifted with a grumble, lumbering sideways and around, though not without whacking you in the calf with his tail, first.
You finished changing just as the first few dragons began to settle down.
You shuffled to the side once you were ready, letting Hiccup through to order and direct, gentle-parenting the dragons into doing what you needed.
You watched him. He was shirtless, legs bare, though his left ankle remained wrapped to his prosthetic. You wondered if it hurt, sometimes, though you hadn’t the courage to ask.
He was slim as always, muscled but not quite muscly, more soft than not. It went unsaid that he was not nearly as built or wide as any of the other Viking men, so you tried not to ogle.
You sat, legs crossed on the ground as Hiccup directed the Scauldrons and Gronkle in turn, slowly patching and filling up the pool.
“How long do you think it will take to cool down?” You asked as he sent them off and he came over to stand by you, settling himself onto the small stretch of grass you were laid in.
“Not sure,” He answered.
At one point Toothless turned towards the trees, shaking himself off before beginning to march through the underbrush.
“Hey, don’t go too far, bud,” Hiccup called after him.
The two of you sat there, just you, watching steam rise from the pool
“He’s been really independent lately,”
Hiccup stiffened slightly, picking at the wooden end of his prosthetic, “Yeah…”
You moved back to give him space as he unraveled the leather wraps keeping his prosthetic secure to his leg, revealing a stump and a good amount of pinched scar tissue.
You spent a moment longer looking at it than you probably should’ve before looking away. You’d never seen it before
You wondered if Astrid had. You couldn’t imagine a world where she hadn’t.
Hiccup sunk into the water first.
Sweat beaded on your forehead as you hovered above it, hands lightly gripping the edge of the pool.
You dipped your toes in before all at once you sunk into the water, drifting down until your feet touched ground, sighing as you felt the heat rise up to your hips.
The ground was made up of small pebbles and smooth stone, and much nicer on the bottoms of your feet than you’d expected.
There was a ledge underneath, just the right height and length going around the inner edge of the pool on most sides to make a nice enough bench. You waded towards it, settling over the concave surface, ignoring the slight unevenness of it.
You relaxed, going boneless underwater, feeling your face redden as the heat from the water floated up into it, causing a line of sweat to run down your cheek.
With nothing else to you, your eyes drifted over towards Hiccup. He was much the same, though he was a little more out of it.
He really needed it, you supposed.
You blinked at him as he tilted his head back, exposing freckled skin, much more faded than when you were younger but visible just the same.
You eyed a multitude of cuts, long and light against his tan, following them down to a long vertical cut by the right side of his chest.
“What’s on your mind?” Hiccup’s voice brought you back to alertness, breaking the spell the spring seemed to put you under.
You tilted your head back and forth, debating whether or not you should answer.
He followed your eyesight instead, answering the silent question in your eyes.
“That… Axe. Training accident,” He answered, shrugging. You marveled at the casualness of it all.
“...And that one?”
“Dragon racing. Caught in the side by one of the spikes over Hofferson house,” You nodded. You hadn’t been in town for that one.
“And, I’m guessing, that’s why you guys use more of a track, now?”
Hiccup rubbed his neck sheepishly.
“Where’d you get yours?” He asked
Being able to talk and converse with him like this was great and all, but you were afraid that behind all the mindless platitudes and play-warmth he would finally, finally see you. See deeper than the scars like cracks on your surface, seep right into line lines and stare into your core to somehow find you wanting.
You hunched slightly inwards self consciously.
“Hey, it’s… it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,”
Hiccup drifted towards you, resting his hand on the side of your shoulder.
You kept your eyes trained downwards, staring at large groups of bubbles as they rose to the surface, coloring the water an opaque white.
Your exhale blew hotly back into your face, rising up with the steam.
You nodded.
Hiccup hummed under his breath, voice tinted with a hint of confusion.
You pressed your thumbs into his shoulder blades in the dark of your hut, moving with his muscles as he groaned and flexed them backwards.
You felt the outline of lightning scars under his shirt and followed them down lazily, rubbing a path around them, pushing deep into weary muscle through his thick tunic.
Hiccup leaned into it. Again, you moved to accommodate him.
You shifted over your hastily done bed, dull fabric shifting below you.
Afternoon light trickled in through the blinds.
You counted every scar visible above the line of his collar, each cut and scab that formed alabaster marks against peachy-tan skin.
You worked through knots, strains and strains and stresses, watching with a careful eye as Hiccup softened, letting them melt off and away.
You worked your way back up, and down, leaning maybe a bit closer than necessary, feeling your breath on your face as you exhaled into the nape of his neck, lifting your elbow higher in order to get a hard spot a few lengths away from his spine.
Hiccup let out a breathy sigh.
You flushed.
You sifted through the assortment of ripe berries in the cart, humming thoughtfully.
You weren’t quite sure what to buy. Honestly, you didn’t need to buy any at all. You had a large enough stock at home to guarantee you’d not need to buy or forage anything until the next year.
You would never say it out loud but you were actually out to take inventory. A whole lot of the other Vikings would be displeased to hear about it, you were sure. It was a good way for you to keep stock of what was in store and what you would need to search for on your own. It was how you made your coin.
It was quite easy, especially when you took advantage of your close proximity to Gothi. Though a tough and harried healer, she was still an elder and it was much more convenient to have the shops travel up towards her.
Some might have called it ‘taking advantage of the elderly,’ but you were loath to the idea. You didn't upcharge her by too much. Whenever you did up the price, it was much deserved payback for dumping her waste down your side of the mountain. Somehow it always landed on your roof.
You brought your finger to your chin and moved to accommodate a newcomer you sensed by the corner of your eye, careful not to look up at the stall keeper, who was squinting down at you suspiciously. You were afraid he might have been catching on.
You walked over to a wide array of scales, most likely scavenged from the dropped and shed skins of the dragons who enjoyed roaming around town.
You enjoyed the fresh air, the wind as it flowed over your scalp. You felt light and pleased, one hand held to your back as you pursued the displayed wares.
There was a nice arranged pyramid of orangish-reddish scales and a set of electric yellow and purple sat above a wrinkled, dull green cloth, and a line of iridescent scales by your right hand.
“You see something you like?” You startled as you heard a voice murmur by your ear. It seemed to be that you were so engrossed in pretending to be invested that you hadn’t noticed as your fellow shoppe leaned into your space.
You walked to the side, turning so that you were leaning away from her.
It was a woman, brown hair nearing red, the brightest auburn you’d ever seen in the light, dressed in a thin layer of furs with both hands on her hips. You recognized this woman.
“These came from me,” She exclaimed calmly, voice running off her tongue like thick, gooey honey.
The stall keeper rolled his eyes, “You’ll get your cut, don’t worry.”
The question must have been obvious in your eyes because Valka smiled, “Oh, yes, I collected those myself, you see.”
You smiled uncomfortably as Valka laughed to herself, finally backing up a tad.
You straightened your back and your shoulders, exhaling deeply.
Though she was unbalanced from her time away from general society, she was confident and it served her well.
Her swell mood was contagious. You quirked your lips with the urge to join in, though to your chagrin, your own laughter came out more as a breathy uncomfortable chuckle than anything. You were also very much out of practice.
She didn’t seem to notice, though you knew that was most likely a calculated effort. You were glad for it.
“Hello,” You managed an honest smile, “Trying to push sales?”
“I’ve a bit of a vested interest in this shop, I should say,” She said, examining you as if you were a sort of creature from a land she’d never seen before, “Who are you?”
Valka paused, blinking to herself. Before you could respond again, she asked, “What’s your name? What’s your story?”
She didn’t know, you realized with a pang. There was no reason for her to, of course, Hiccup being your only link to each other and the two of you hadn’t been nearly as close as you had been before, as of late, but it still hurt a little. Definitely put a damper on your mood.
You kept up your smile anyways, mimicking her pose.
“I’ve not much of a story to tell, I’m sad to say,” You inclined your head.
“Everyone’s got a story,” Valka insisted, “Even-Oh, it should be-...”
You hummed your question.
“It’s probably wandered off somewhere, the frightful thing… There-! This one’s been pretty helpful,” Valka pointed out behind you, “A bashful thing, helped me bring down some of the wares. He showed up a few months before, well…”
Her eyes unfocused and her stance fell just the smallest bit. You winced with sympathy, remembering how Drago had smothered the island in ice before nearly killing off all of its inhabitants. She was very open about it, especially in the hall, and word spread faster than fire on Berk. It must have been difficult to lose her husband and her Alpha Dragon all in one day.
You shifted, turning following her direction after a moment of solidarity, and froze.
With its head bowed down, looking guiltily away from across the clearing was a dragon. Your dragon.
She leaned forwards against you conspiratorially, though this time you didn’t react, even as she whispered loudly in your ear with false secrecy, “It doesn’t hurt to have a bit of extra change on hand, you see. That’s why I’m here.”
“I do see,” You nodded along, though something about your voice was off as you spoke, still staring at your old dragon. Your voice was much too sharp and flat and cracked in all the wrong places.
You blinked away a light burning in your eye, refusing to meet your dragon by the eyes.
Your heart twinged, ruffled and upset as you were all at once confronted with the reality that you really had been abandoned, though it wasn't as bitter a fruit knowing that it had been, in part, your fault.
“So, you said these scales are on sale?” You cleared your throat, turning back towards the stall with the full intent to ignore the thing as you would a stranger, which it might have very well been.
“Which would you recommend?” Your eyes refused to focus as you blocked it out of your mind, refusing to acknowledge the faces or manners of any of the people around you.
It was because of that that you just nearly missed him, approaching down the path to your left, once again clad in dark gray and brown leather.
“Oh, hello, Hiccup!” You called.
“You’re trembling,” Hiccup noted with surprise in his voice as you approached.
“It’s been a while since I rode a dragon,” You admitted balefully, as the two of you strode towards Toothless’ saddle.
Even before, when you had just gotten yours, you’d had a hard time learning to love being up in the sky. But you pushed through it, because it was what Hiccup loved, and because it was getting to a point where you needed a dragon in order to keep up with everyone else.
You never did talk to anyone about how much it terrified you.
“Will you be alright?”
You nodded hesitantly, though privately you weren’t so sure, your heart beating like a drum.
Hiccup sighed, “We’re just headed to the sea stacks, right?”
“Yeah,” You took a few hesitant, shaking breaths before swinging yourself up on the saddle behind Hiccup, who looked back at you, securing his helmet as if he thought it might be better that he leave you behind, as if you might shatter at the slightest breeze.
“Thanks for taking me,” You looked away, ears burning shamefully. The things you could forage for on Berk weren’t cutting it. You needed the extra coin.
You jolted suddenly as you took off, alarm racing up and down your spine as you pressed yourself flush to Hiccup. You kept your eyes as straight ahead as possible, knowing that looking down, at the disappearing dow of Berk in the distance, would be your downfall.
You noticed Hiccup kept close to the ocean floor, guiding Toothless only just high enough to cleanly avoid the ocean waves below.
Past the wind rushing through your hair, the pressure plugging your eardrums and the sound of Toothless’ wings beating through the air, you realized that this wasn’t so bad.
Eventually your breathing evened and you were able to loosen up to some degree.
You leaned your head against his neck, arms relaxing slightly around your torso though your front stayed no less melded to his back.
You noticed the two of you had wandered all the way down, strolling the boundary between grazing fields, dotted by sheep, and the closer line of houses to your right.
You were still a slight bit shaken, though you’d made it back with all of your things intact plus extra, which was alright enough.
Hiccup looked back and forth, at where your hut ended just beyond the Great Hall, probably wondering if he should have been the one to walk you back instead.
“I don’t eat down at the hall much,” You looked back, keeping the silent ‘or ever’ to yourself.
“Well, I can understand why,” Hiccup looked to the side, voice sardonic, as the two of you, from a distance, watched Tuffnut and Snotlout wrestling for a plated chicken leg. You weren’t sure how they got so far out from the Great Hall so quickly. As far as you were aware, they didn’t serve food this early.
“Would you?” He asked.
Snotlout was able to pin Tuffnut to the ground, about to take a bit from the leg in his meaty grasp before Tuffnut basked him over the back of his head with the empty plate.
The other Riders were sat around him at the high table.
Hiccup seemed uncomfortable sitting up on the elevated platform reserved for the Chief and company by the forefront of the Great Hall. Out of place. Not quite like he was in shoes he hadn’t grown into yet, as was the saying, but more as if he was standing in front of a pair of shoes that did not belong to him at all.
You asked yourself if he might be more comfortable down with the common folk.
You sent him a small wave just as the two of you met eyes, Hiccup at once sending a complimentary quirk of the lips back.
You came.
It took you a few days to get there, but eventually you worked up the courage to make it down and to sidle around the heavily concentrated group of Vikings in the open floor of the hall.
Just as I promised.
You gave him a half-smile, lifting a spoon of stew to your mouth. It had been a while since you had tasted something from the hall. You had to admit it was a taste that you couldn’t replicate, not that you tried. You weren’t sure whether or not it was something you liked.
A crowd of Vikings obscured your vision as they walked past, large mugs and plates in hand.
You stared down at your bowl of stew and the thin slice of bread on the place beside it, wondering if all of this was worth it.
You were surprised when Hiccup settled down in front of you, startling you out of your own musings, plate of his own in hand.
You peered round him, back at the table to see the rest of the Riders and Gobber back up on the podium. They seemed just as equally confused.
“What brings you down here?” You got the vague idea that it was expected, though not a requirement of the Chief, for Hiccup to sit up by the front table. Something about establishing authority and basking in the attention or something before it wore off, you didn’t care.
It didn’t seem like something Hiccup was interested in, anyways.
“What, no ‘hello?’”
“Nope,” You popped the ‘p’ as Hiccup pulled out his journal from under his arm, settling it on the table to his side. You stared at brown leather and at all the small bits of parchment sticking out the sides.
“Let me see,” You said,
“You sure?” Hiccup asked with a crooked smile.
You nodded, beckoning him over to your side of the table, craning your neck as he laid the book out in front of you and settled down besides.
“What’s that?” You pointed downwards, as he began flipping through the pages.
“What, this?”
You hummed, “No, go back.”
Hiccup blinked, and you saw the minor realization wash over his face before he flipped back the page almost reluctantly, revealing a messily sketched out crack in the earth and a crude map of the archipelago with a bunch of x-es littering random regions over the sea.
“Do you mind if I…?”
He shook his head no, handing over his notebook as you pushed aside your stew.
You read over some of the notes to the side, furrowing your brow.
“The Caldera,” You said, remembering the old wives tale.
“Yeah,” Hiccup rubbed his neck, “I didn’t mean for you to see it, but what do you think?”
“There’s something about it, I don’t know,” You said, shrugging, “It would be really nice.”
Hiccup scrubbed his neck embarrassedly, “It’s just a fantasy I have sometimes.”
“Is that why you spent so much time wandering?” You nodded your head, taking a sip from the large mug in front of you with hunched shoulders, “It would make a great discovery.”
Hiccup nodded.
You got it. It was unbelievably unrealistic, but that was probably the point. It was something for him to chase after even after everything else became unfamiliar. There was something charming about its unattainability, in a way.
Mead. Maybe it was a comfort you yourself craved.
You barely paid attention as you filled your mug and his, watching as, across the hall and through warm and bustling bodies, Hiccup and Astrid spoke.
It was with all of the passion of a newly split couple. Though you couldn’t hear everything, you could see the meaningful tilt of Hiccup’s brown, the way his shoulders only moved when he spoke about something worthwhile, and the emotive movement of his hands.
They were leaning close together by a gaggle of the others, speaking in whispers. It was probably nothing of consequence to you. She was, still, his right hand woman.
But he looked at her like she hung the stars and wove this very Earth, hanging on to her every word, no matter the severity or banality.
You downed a mug, mead dripping down the corner of your chin. You wiped it off with your chin, lamenting and then going after another. It would take quite a great deal for you to get drunk.
You watched as Astrid walked away, back turned to Hiccup, her side exposed to you, and took note of the way, mouth open as if to speak, he reached out slightly, like he might be able to pull her back by some invisible string.
Your heart beat against itself, rhythm as loud and violent to your ears as the crashing waves outside down by the coast. You ignored it, tucking it away like a book under your pillow in the dark of night.
You furrowed your brows, picking up another mug and filling it to the brim. It was only considerate, if you were going to drink.
Your arms were full of mugs by the time you thought to wander back, balanced unevenly in your arms. He might need it just as bad as you did.
You’d stumbled back to Hiccup’s hut in the dark, chuckling and laughing like a pair who didn’t want to do much besides forget the world around you.
There was something tense in the air between the two of you despite the physical closeness. You weren’t quite sure when or how the two of you had fallen into each other, or why you thought this was a good idea.
You gasped through the press of lips and the taste of ale on tongue, backed up against a wooden wall, head pressed back against the hard, uneven surface.
You pulled apart, and Hiccup leaned forwards to rest his forehead against the wall by your head, panting in your ear.
You weren’t sure who you’d slept with and who you hadn’t. Many drunk nights at the Hall, sneaking large mugs of ale and mead into your small, lonely corner meant many mornings slung over beds in houses you weren’t familiar with. Being so disconnected meant it was easy for you to slip out and away without anyone noticing.
But you knew you were here, and you were here now.
You slipped your knee between his legs. He ground down on it.
Your undergarments were up to scratch this time, though you weren’t sure if you needed them.
You felt the rise and quell of feeling and emotion and dead conversation. You searched for something to say, something to soothe, to matter or to not in a way that mattered the way someone did when they knew they weren't great, but wanted to be.
He looked exhausted. Tired from hours on his feet, time he wasn’t allowed to spend alone and a while too long throwing ideas on building, automatic tailfins and infrastructure between the two of you.
Guilt curled around like a tiny worm in your stomach. It was the same feeling you got falling from a high place, the same kind you avoided every time you saw a dragon take off into the air.
You pondered if you should ask, wondering if it was fair to want him to take the first step or back away, hands drifting back and forth underwater.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” He said, and you weren’t sure why.
You tilted your head, sitting across from Hiccup in the same spring from before. His calf was pressed between your ankles, brushing over scar tissue as Hiccup sandwiched your left ankle between that and his other leg.
“Me too.” You were sorry, for taking up his time and his space, when all he wanted was something else. You thought he might rather be alone. If that was the case, you knew you would go.
Calves and ankles pressed together, shifting against each other under the water testingly.
Your face was red, heated by steam. Hiccup looked the same.
You scooted closer. Hiccup shifted forwards on his arms, leaning nearer to you.
You weren’t sure where you stood, since the night you spent together. You didn’t know if it meant anything or not, if it was a tryst born from your interest or Hiccup’s want to forget Astrid. You couldn’t remember.
But.
“Is it…?” He asked, eyes half-lidded.
You drifted forwards, standing up in the spring and met him the rest of the way, thighs slotted together.
Your arms were braced on either side of him underwater, palms resting on the smooth ledge surface.
Hiccup rested his hand on your arm, the other by your waist.
There were too many things between the two of you that went left unsaid. You hoped that one day you’d be able to say them.
“A-ash…” He breathed into your mouth.
You half-slid, half-climbed down the rocky cliffside, grinning to yourself as Hiccup jogged after, falling slightly behind your enthusiasm.
To be honest, you weren’t so sure about sharing this secret with Hiccup. It felt weighty, like you were putting it to bed somehow and you weren’t sure you liked that, not ready to give up your reprieve.
It was private to you, but also, maybe it would be worth it, to share something so nice with someone else. There was a low chance he hadn’t seen it yet anyways. Soon, the others would find out and all the other Vikings would start funneling in, you were sure.
You slid to a stop just barely in time, backtracking with your arms out, stumbling back-first into Hiccup.
The two of you fell backwards, Hiccup falling into a set of bushes stationed behind you.
“Oh, ow,”
“Are you alright?” You asked him, as you separated, quickly scooting over and peering down at him as he pulled himself from the fanning ferns.
The two of you were surrounded by rocks and fauna, world dark and blue in a way that felt fresh and new and freeing.
This ledge was one that was difficult to get to unless you knew the way, which you won through hard-earned practice and exploration.
The grass under you was cold, and wet from dew, But that was one of the many things you ceased to notice once you peered over the edge, at the beginning of a beautiful flickering.
“I’m alright,” Hiccup smiled, rubbing his head. You tried to look around him as if you might be able to see the back of it from the angle you were sitting.
“Look,” You pointed forwards with a breathy grin, as Hiccup settled himself beside you, your legs hanging limply over the side of the clifface.
He followed your direction, and he breathed. You could see the exact moment he looked down into the waters, calmer than they should be, always seeming flat and unassuming in this area.
You watched him focus, taken in by the mesmerizing sight.
Tiny dragons lit up the sea below, blinking pale pinks and greens and blues under the shifting water, looking very much like small, twinkling gems by the sand.
It was what you assumed was a mix between the glowing algae left over from the Flightmare’s time in the archipelago and the new, different kinds of dragons flooding Berk.
The two of you relaxed into the scene, calming in a way you were hard pressed to calm anywhere else. Maybe you had made the right call.
It was a while before either of you would break the silence
“I…” Hiccup started, he looked at you with open eyes, “I…”
You perked up slightly, turning your head by the most minute degree, watching him from the corner of your eye. You waited, giving him time to articulate himself.
“...I miss…”
His eyes twinkled, lights dancing in the shine of them, moving back and forth with the lights below. You softened in them, twisting so you were looking at him directly.
You wondered what he missed. You wondered if it was something to quell or nurture the beating blooming jittering feeling growing in your chest.
“Them,” Hiccup said finally, lamely, before stopping, leaning against your shoulder.
At the last moment, he looked away, pulling his hands off the ground and you read something a little like shame on his face as he said it, or on as much face as you could see, carefully tilted away from you.
You were sure you knew who, or whom he meant.
You remembered how he looked at Astrid the other night as she walked away. How something in his eyes just seemed to storm.
You remember how glum he was, still was, after the passing of his father, tall and mighty in a way that seemed to make him immortal.
You were glad. Just glad, and disappointed, in equal measure. But also you also couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that he hadn’t said something else.
You leaned back with equal weight onto his shoulder, though instead of feeling any sort of the warmth or amity you should have felt- or peace, like you usually did, staring down at the swirling lights, dancing with the currents- you just felt empty.
You took in the rustling of leaves behind you, the chittering and splashing of small dragons as they leapt out of the water, filling the air below with a colorful, glowing spray. Anything but the man besides you. The Chief, now.
“I know.”
#not an exact fill but close enough#no clinginess sorry could not work it in#how to train your dragon#httyd#x reader#fanfiction#toothless#httyd imagine#hiccup haddock#hiccup x reader#gender neutral reader
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Me: Happy to keep writing 'A Gift from the Gods' as I'm actually really proud of it
My brain when I'm trying to sleep: Write villain Hiccup with smut
#hiccup x reader#reader insert#httyd fanfiction#I dont know how to write smut#my imagination is running wild#villain hiccup#Orchid.Speaks
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and if i could let it ride i'd take my time and free my mind
one. — two. — three. — coming soon.
hiccup haddock x reader
a/n. gn reader. theres one mention that implies reader believes in gods. we're pretending night furys aren't quite as fast as they are in canon/or you can imagine elsa is just somehow even faster if you want. unlike the past chapters, this one ends abruptly because part 4 will be set immediately after this ★ 1.7k
the air tastes like freedom, and with the way elsa pierces through the wind with more enthusiasm than you've seen since last winter, you know she feels that same magic.
depending on where you go, the air is always crisp and biting, but it isn't always new. there's a time of year where something beautiful lays to rest her weary head until next year, leaving way for something magical to rise in her wake. it's the feeling of knowing the snow is fresh and the world is stopping just for a special moment, to say, "look at this, look at me, look at everything i can do." and you thank the gods every year, that you have lived to see another one of these seasons.
your arms whip up to feel the cold air run through your skin as elsa whips through just above the surface of the ocean, playfully dropping a wing to spray water up at you.
you laugh brightly, tilting your head up to gaze at the clouds racing by, and it takes everything in you to not fall and lay down on elsa's back — the idea in theory representing a perfect pastime, but in reality the one thing that could ruin your mood right now would absolutely be taking an unforeseen dip into the freezing sea lest you slip.
your eyes shut for a moment as you just sit like this, balling your hands into fits before thrusting them in the air excitedly and leaning down on your chest to rest your head atop elsa's.
she chirps at you in greeting, and flies a little further up from the sea to spare you from being splashed.
"i feel so alive," you whisper to her, a tradition at this point; ever since the first time the two of you flew through a day just like this, and you'd declared you'd never felt so alive to her. the sentiment still reigns true every year, and elsa always agrees.
on days like these, you're reminded just how fast she can fly and for just how long she never seems to tire — especially if she's close to the sea.
you don't know for sure how long you've been out here, but you near the island you've met hiccup halfway on in the past up ahead, and feel the same sensation you do when anticipating a new season as you approach it.
"what do you think?" you mutter to your dragon, and she's already dipping to graze the cold water of the ocean to fly just above the surface, circling the island.
the season is absolutely — at the very least partially — to blame for your boldness in going as far as to seek out someone you are usually terrified of looking your way. the world feels safer at times like these, and you almost feel as though you can be yourself, as though you could act like a normal friend.
elsa makes it halfway around the island before you spot hiccup and toothless flying past it, and you find yourself overcome with the urge to yell out jovially to get their attention.
however you bite your tongue, already seeing elsa's own bold plan of sneaking up on them unfolding, and you find you like her idea much more — it feels more like you.
"shhh," you playfully whisper to your already deadly silent dragon, as she glides just far enough behind and below them that she's gone completely undetected.
you have to hold a hand to your mouth to contain a giggle as she slowly rises; still completely unseen.
they finally notice you at the exact same time, both with an identical whip of their heads to your direction.
your hand falls back to hold onto elsa and the other raises to wave, leaving your wide grin on show as hiccup's brief distress at a possible threat becomes his own bright smile.
"you!" he exclaims, like he wants to say a proper greeting but the pleasant surprise caught him off-guard.
"me!" you reply so easily, talking freely having never felt so natural.
"i didn't think you'd be here," he says.
you shrug happily, "i'm always here," referring more to being in the sky this time of year than just the small island.
beneath you, elsa and toothless seem to have been staring at each other this whole time, not in any aggression, but you see toothless's eyes and recognise the glint of competition in them from elsa's own.
hiccup picks up on this a moment later after quietly asking his dragon, "what's going on, bud?" and spares a glance to see you almost smirking with both hands securing themselves on elsa.
in the blink of an eye, the unspoken race begins, and elsa is surging forward and swiftly surpassing toothless, dipping almost imperceptibly closer to the surface of the ocean, knowing she's even faster the closer she gets.
your hearing is enveloped by the strong wind racing past, but a quick cheer from hiccup breaks through the noise as toothless flies past you, now ahead of elsa by a significant distance.
this doesn't discourage her though, and if anything it draws your dragon to grow even more determined, flapping her wings with a vibrating strength followed by bringing them close to her body. you lean down as flat against her as you can, holding on tight as her now tearing through the air like an arrow makes you feel like you could be flung off at a single wrong move.
(you'd laugh at the memory if the wind in your face wouldn't whip your breath away, knowing full well you have been hurled off her back after not being fully prepare for just this.)
she reaches toothless, and flies just a bit further past him when she unfurls her wings to do the heavy lifting once more.
your eye catches hiccup's own mirthful ones and you can tell it's only a matter of time before he pulls a trick out of his sleeve to get ahead again.
you have to crane your head slightly to get a good look at them as elsa gains a lead, and frown when you notice them slowing down ever so slightly as hiccup's hand runs down the back of toothless's neck.
"they're up to something," you whisper to elsa as you try to keep a watchful eye on your competition, but it gets caught in the breeze when the night fury that was just trailing behind, now has caught up to you. he growls proudly, not-so-subtly showing off his new "v" shaped flaps that run from his neck to his tail.
hiccup seems proud too, especially when the two suddenly dip out of your view. you whip your head up and down, left and right, trying to spot where they disappeared to — gasping when toothless appears on your other side swiftly, and hiccup winks.
your mind stutters for a moment, not even realising the two have flown ahead of you again, and instead suddenly acutely aware of the freezing tip of your nose being drowned out by the growing warmth across your cheeks.
elsa, however, grumbles at your disracted demeanour, and speeds up as much as she possibly can, before making a warning 'yelping' sound to you, telling you to prepare for what she's about to do.
her sudden plunge breaks you out of your stupor, and as soon as her downward motion ceases, you sit up straight — this being something you've rarely seen in action and have grown confident in, but all the well familiar with the consequences if you don't raise yourself as far up from the sea as possible.
you know elsa has hit the water from the way her body grows colder, like ice, and you quickly feel the rest of her body submerge with your feet all the way up to where your knees dangle by her sides.
the water rushing past you nearly reaching your hips is heavier than the air above, and you know for yourself it would feel like trying to fly through honey, but for elsa, the water surrounding her only serves to fuel her.
even as the freezing water engulfs the lower half of your body, you reach a hand out to graze the surface. flicking the water with your cold fingertips, you imagine it absorbing into your skin with an ethereal glow, wondering how it feels for elsa to have something so simple yet so powerful coursing through her — funnily enough — like a fire.
toothless is still ahead of elsa, but she's now hot on his tail with her built up speed, and you're regaining focus from the coldness sinking away from your body, holding on tight in preparation for the light show elsa will embodying and soon zoom by her competition.
you find, as elsa rises, that your mind had been just as enveloped as hers in the water — for the moment your feet hang back out in the open air and the water is already dried off your hand, you can suddenly feel hiccup's gaze on the two of you, a heat you'd have quickly and self consciously noticed in any other situation.
you can't find it in yourself to look away from him now, and you can't stop examining his every facial expression — the wonder in his eyes, his surprised smile, and the way you swear it grows when he notices you're looking at him again — as elsa reaches the same height as toothless again; bringing the two of you face-to-face
you can tell the way his eyes are lit up he's curious about every intricate details of what elsa is capable of, his mind reeling at the sight of something he's never even imagined before. it's like he's been shown the stars for the first time, like the constellations are forming before his eyes, and you don't miss the way his eyes flickering from your dragon to you with warm cheeks impacts your heartbeat.
it only lasts a moment though, because the second elsa is side-by-side with toothless once more, you're holding on tight and she's soaring past in a blur.
the world around you feels secondary to the floating feeling of moving this fast, and your eyes shut protectively in face of the air pinching at your skin — but the smile on your face is unstoppable, as elsa's speed leads the two of you to a well deserved win.
#i listened to “dragon racing” from the the httyd 2 soundtrack on repeat while writing this and and it absolutely enhances the experience#and apologies for the wait between chapters#taking flight (my writing)#hiccup haddock x reader#hiccup x reader#httyd x reader#how to train your dragon x reader#httyd imagine#httyd fanfiction#hiccup horrendous haddock iii x reader#hiccup horrendous haddock lll x reader#hiccup horrendous haddock the 3rd x reader
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Cԋιʅԃ!Tɾαϝαʅɠαɾ Lαɯ & Lιɠԋƚ Fυɾყ!Rҽαԃҽɾ
Credits: HTTYD, One Piece
The Dragon
First Interaction
Forbidden Friendship
The Boy
View from the Other Side
Maybe Just a Little Longer
Lost Time
Ghost notes: the writing may be a bit messy, please forgive this ghost. There are CWs at the start of every chapter, though the writing may not appear to require a CW- excuse my poor orginazation. It’s been quite a while since the ghost had written a series like this!
#series#how to train your dragon#plane writings#imagine#httyd#one piece#trafalgar law#trafalgardwaterlaw#how to train your dragon x reader#one piece x reader#trafalgar d law x reader#x reader#x reader platonic
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Hicca rubs her still small belly…
Hicca: do you think I’ll be a good mother?
Y/N: I think you’ll be an amazing mother. Why?
Hicca: I just wonder what our baby will think of my
Hicca nervously gestures to her peg leg…
Y/N: my love, Gobber is missing an arm and a leg and he’d be a great babysitter. So I think you’ll be a great mother
Y/N holds a giggling Hicca close, comforting their bride…
#hiccup how to train your dragon#how to train your dragon#httyd imagine#httyd fluff#httyd hiccup#httyd#hicca x reader#hicca#hiccup horrendous haddock iii#hiccup#hiccup haddock#hiccup x reader#hicca imagine#female hiccup#dreamworks#genderbend#genderbent#rule 63
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Oswald: I think I’m gonna ask Ed out.
Victor: be careful though. A relationship only brings pain and agony.
You: *smacks him*
Victor: see?
#source: httyd 3#gotham incorrect quotes#victor zsasz x reader#victor zsasz imagine#victor zsasz#gotham#gotham x reader#reader insert#incorrect quotes#gotham imagine#incorrect gotham quotes#oswald cobblepot
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