#also i couldn't find a shoe ref for the life of me so he just gets high heeled boots

[crystalline-sanders]

i hate this stupid stupid outfit but boy is it fun to render WHYYYY IS the SQUIP wardrobe Like That

[fuckyeahhiccuphaddock]

My Boy (Don't Love Me Like He Promised) - HTTYD - DagCup - Chapter One

TITLE: My Boy (Don't Love Me Like He Promised)

CHAPTER #: one.

MODERN AU: ON ✔

DESCRIPTION: years after being rejected by Hiccup Haddock in highschool, Dagur finds himself late at night at the now twenty year old's house, roughened up after an alleyway beating.

TAGS: some mild angst, longfic, not a oneshot, dagcup (hiccupxdagur), httyd, how to train your dragon.

GENRE: fanfiction

LANGUAGE: English

COPYRIGHT: characters do not belong to me. all rights reserved © to dreamworks and cressida cowell. plot is all rights reserved © "fuckyeahhiccuphaddock" 2019.

MATURE RATING: ON ✔ contains mature themes, such as strong language, sexuality, mild descriptions of violence, and other themes.

NOTE: this fanfiction will also be availiable on the Wattpad platform! the version on Wattpad has many more visuals and has a more aesthetically pleasing visual, so if you want to check that out here is the link, along with the link to my accounts which also have HTTYD content for you to read:

FIND THIS FANFIC:

FIND MY MAIN HTTYD ACCOUNT:

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2ND NOTE: this story is not beta read.

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his breaths were ragged, and his chest moved with each one he took. puffs of white circled the air, disappearing in seconds. his foot nudged something heavy, one of the bodies that laid by his feet. not bodies, per say, considering these people weren't dead, but merely unconscious. he would have found the sight endearing and sadistically satisfying if it weren't for the fact he was practically a wet dog and the blood of his wounds was seeping through his clothes.

with an irritated grunt, he pulled his jacket off himself, holding it above his head. it made him even colder, but he wouldn't be able to focus on where to go if the rain kept beating down on him. the streets were beginning to flood. now was not a good time to be out. there was a gash on his right eyebrow, he knew that for sure. and a cut on his left thigh, left there perfunctorily by one of the men who decided to jump him. he was sure he had a couple of bruises on his torso as well.

now, it wasn't that dagur was weak -- because he sure as hell wasn't, but there had been a lot of people who decided to catch him by surprise. he fought them off, of course, but not without a couple of marks himself. he began walking, footsteps making the water splash below, and his eyes landed on the sight of a bus stop. there were two benches, accompanied by a roof and thin, hole poked walls on each side, but it'd have to do for now, at least until he found out where the hell he was.

he clawed for his phone that was deep in his pocket, tried turning it on, hoping miraculously, it would work despite it being completely drenched. the screen only remained black, and dagur couldn't help but growl -- stupid fucking 20$ phones. he shoved it back into his pocket.

he stood back up again, running a hand through his untamed hair. a kid had once ran up to him and told him he resembled hercules, from the disney movie. dagur himself didn't really see the similarity, but hey, kids had wild imaginations, and he didn't really want to put that to a halt. he started walking again, hands holding up his jacket.

it seemed like he'd walked for miles before he found a street sign. he had to squint through the rain to see it before reading it -- Escobar, is what it said. why had that sounded familiar?

despite not knowing why it held such an influence on him, he took the turn and went down the street. by the look of these houses, he was in the suburbs, with nicely trimmed grass and cleared sidewalks. he was sure it'd look a lot better one the sky cleared up, and it wasn't raining.

he was beginning to know where he was. yeah, he knew what this place was. wasn't associated personally, but hell if he didn't know it. he'd visited a few times, and at this point he knew the way back to his shitty, run-down apartment, but he hadn't seen hiccup haddock in what had been literal years. he didn't know what time it was, knew it was late and likely that hiccup wasn't going to answer the door, but at this point dagur didn't think there was much that mattered in his life, other than gambling, the occasional drink and the brooding in late night hours.

he let out a breath that he didn't realize he had been holding, and it made a white puff of air. he dragged his feet towards the light grey, almost bluish porch. he took a step up one of the stairs and knew he'd leave a muddy footprint, but it wasn't anything he couldn't clean after. really, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for hiccup haddock; even though the guy had broken his heart without knowing how much it hurt. it was in the past, but the memory was still so fresh in his mind; like popping a mint into your mouth. overpowering and sensual.

before he knew it he was at the door. it was a pale white, and he distantly heard the sound of a windchime. dagur lifted a calloused hand, curled it into a fist and had about to knock. there was something stopping him but he couldn't place what.

he'd knocked anyways, and standing there left him feeling both exhausted and anxious. weariness was started to settle on him, and his wounds were beginning to hurt now that his adrenaline had died down completely. upon his first knock there was no sound; no shuffling footprints, just silence.

"come on, hiccup," he whispered, giving another, stronger knock. "open up. please."

minutes passed and he had been about to leave; but the there was a thud from inside the house. dagur froze in his tracks, and he swore he saw the blinds of the windows twitched. after that, there was another, long pause of silence.

there was the sound of a lock, and dagur almost let go a sigh of relief. he hoped hiccup still lived here, and that he wasn't knocking on a stranger's house -- but then he decided that idea was a stupid one. if it was a stranger, the door wouldn't have opened at all.

hiccup looked different from highschool, dagur realized instantly. the scrawny, curled in on himself kid didn't look like that at all. hiccup's posture was open; confident than it had been before. he was slouching slightly, but dagur simply guessed it was because he was drowsy with sleep; and he was correct. hiccup's head was messy, tiny hairs sticking in every direction, and bags under his eyes that wouldn't be noticeable if you really looked. although he had just woken from sleeping, he still had his day clothes on; a black long sleeve and rumpled jeans adorning his body. a digital watch accompanied his left wrist; it was a sight to behold after years of not seeing him.

"dagur?" hiccup questioned, and god, it was so good to hear his voice after so long, so good to see him after such a long period of time. hiccup may have rejected him back in highschool, but dagur would be lying if he said hiccup haddock didn't have a specific, (albeit cliché) place in his heart. he couldn't help but stare. "what are you doing here? actually, what happened to your head?"

and too soon for his taste, dagur was snapping out of his thoughts. he gave a low chuckle from within his chest, rubbing the back of his neck. "it's a long story," he admitted quietly, glancing into emerald eyes. "could i come inside, please?"

hiccup shifted, giving a sigh and stuffing the hand that wasn't holding the door into his pocket. "dagur, i don't really think that's a good idea-"

"please," he responded, cutting hiccup off. "i'll be out of your hair by morning, hiccup... i'm freezing and my head hurts." saying that he would be gone so soon made his chest ache in protest.

hiccup squinted at him, silent for a good long moment before nodding slowly. "alright, dagur. just put your shoes there on the porch. don't want my floor covered with mud," he said, leaving the door open and retreating within the depth of his home.

without hesitation, dagur did as the other said. he toed his shoes off, and his socks, considering everything below his ankles was drenched. he left his jacket outside, too, letting it hang over the light besides the door before following hiccup inside, letting the door shut behind himself with a quiet thud.

he wasn't given any time to really look around the room before there was something soft being pressed into his hands. his green eyes flickered downwards, and in his palms was a soft, grey blanket.

"I'll get you some clothes," hiccup said. he'd been about to turn away before dagur spoke again.

"your clothes aren't going to fit me, hiccup."

"I wouldn't have guessed," the other said sarcastically, and dagur had been slightly relieved that his humour hadn't gone anywhere. he almost cracked a smile. "but you're cold. I'll get them for you anyways."

and like that, hiccup was gone. dagur didn't realize how tightly his fist had curled around the blanket, not until he found his hand loosening and a soreness in his knuckles. with a quiet sigh, he turned away as well and let his eyes scan the rest of the room.

the walls were a light grey, and it would have looked depressing if there weren't any sort of pictures hung up on them. upon entering the house, dagur's feet were met with warm, cream coloured carpet. to his left was a dark grey couch, and a transparent, glass coffee table in the middle. right across from it was a flatscreen TV; and dagur was just realizing how luxurious the house really was.

there was a fireplace, too. it wasn't lit, but it was there. on top of the fireplace was a brown shelf, holding two pictures on either side and in the center a little bowl filled with fake leaves, likely just for decor. dagur let himself draw closer to the pictures, and picked up the nearest one.

it was hiccup, but younger. hiccup in high school, he realized. but it wasn't just him, no, there was someone else in the picture. a blonde girl, and she looked all too familiar, and dagur knew who she was instantly. how could he not? this was the same girl who stole hiccup's heart as his own was shattered.

Astrid Hofferson. she looked the same as he remembered. both her arms were wrapped around his neck, eyes fluttered closed and a happy smile on her face as she was kissing hiccup's cheek. his heart sank into his own chest, and dagur hated the feeling.

hiccup was there, smiling with joy. he looked like he was laughing, if anything. behind them was what seemed to be a Ferris wheel, and dagur guessed that they were on a date at the carnival. his grip tightened on the frame of the picture, and he set it back into its original place before he broke it out of anger.

it should've been him in that photo. not Astrid.

slight guilt overcame him with that thought. it shouldn't have mattered who hiccup was with; as long as he was happy. and dagur told himself that too many times to count, yet he couldn't help the raw, sheer rage that came along with the thought of hiccup being with anyone other than him. it made him angry, and ridiculously so. he'd watched them too many times have fun together, while he was stuck on the sidelines, wondering why the hell hiccup had chosen her instead of him.

although, the picture made him distantly wonder where she was now. had they stayed together after highschool? was she just merely upstairs, asleep in hiccup's bed?

with a shaky exhale through his nose, dagur took a step back before he really grew unstable. he looked at another photo, and this time it was of hiccup and his father at graduation. stoick wore a fond smile, and he radiated how proud he was, even though it was just a photo. hiccup wore a black cap and gown, holding his certificates. the sight made dagur crack a tiny smile. he hadn't been there for the ceremony, but surprisingly, he had graudated.

"those are old memories," hiccup said from behind. dagur turned, still holding onto the blanket he was given. "here." he stuck out a fresh pair of clean clothes and dagur took them gratefully.

"thanks," dagur muttered in return, tossing the blanket over his shoulder, biting back his tongue so he wouldn't ask what had happened to astrid. "where's your restroom?"

hiccup gestured upstairs, rubbing one of his eyes. "first door to your right. when you're done, come back down here and i'll uh. tend your injuries."

"sure," dagur responded, despite his need to ask questions, but he could ask those once he wasn't a wet dog anymore. there was an awkward pause of silence before dagur turned and headed upstairs.

the carpet became wood once he was up. dagur had found the restroom wth ease, but there was just something naghing at him -- he wanted desperately to check.

he let the clothes and the blanket rest on the counter of the restroom, and he took a step to the door at the end of the hall, which was creaked open just slightly.

dagur peaked through the crack, opening the door just slightly more, giving himself a better view. it was hiccup's room, for sure -- and he glanced towards the bed, nearly shouting in relief when there was no other body in it.

there was a movement from the corner of his eye, but before he'd been given the chance to move, there was a large, black blob that was heading straight for him, all speed and power.

dagur shouted once the thing hit his face, his hands reaching up to grab at it. the thing let out a loud, screeching "yowl!", and there was a sudden, sharp pain at his eye.

he heard footsteps racing up the stairs, and at this point he had ran into something -- probably a desk, he couldn't see a damn thing -- and then there was hiccup's voice coming from into the room, "toothless!" hands were on top of dagur's own, and the black mass was wrenched away from his face, followed by a hiss sound.

dagur was too preocupied with the pain on his face to really pay attention. he raced out the room and back towards the restroom, fastily turning the light on, muttering strings of curses before he finally looked up at the mirror, letting his hand fall from his face.

his expression dropped at the sight. three claw marks were at his eye, diagnol and bleeding red. his jaw clenched at the pain, bringing his hand up and giving it a gentle touch before letting out a low growl. fuck, it stung, and he wanted to know what in the hell had done it. his face was fucked for life -- that much he was certain of.

"dagur? dagur, are you okay?" hiccup's voice drew near, and his teeth began to ache from how hard he set his jaw. he noticed hiccup standing at the doorway thanks to the mirror, and he turned abruptly to face the other, almost as if saying, ' do i LOOK okay? '

"o-oh gods. your eye!" hiccup shouted, and dagur couldn't help the snarl leave from his throat. his gaze drifted down and his (good) eye narrowed, pointing at the black mass hiccup currently held in his hands.

"what. the hell," dagur started, "is that?" he said, voice dripping of venom. suddenly the mass shifted and there were green eyes and dialated black pupils staring ferociously straight at him, and then he knew what it was -- a cat. a damn cat. hiccup had a fucking guard cat in his room!

"first of all, it is a he," hiccup said return, and dagur's (good) eye twitched irkingly. "and his name's toothless."

"well, excuse me," dagur said, glaring at the animal hiccup craddled as it if were a stuffed animal, "that i am so rude, even though he scratched my face!"

"you were tresspasing," hiccup said, like it provided any justification. "you were in my room, weren't you? or trying to peak inside, at least?"

"you're saying i deserve this?!"

"i wouldn't go that far."

at those words, dagur made a highly frustrated noise. "okay, you know what? fine! i'm going to change, and then you are going to tend to this," dagur gestured to his face, and to the rest of his wounds. after that, he didn't give hiccup a time to respond, shutting the door promptly in the cat's face.

it was going to be a hell of a night.

[treadmilltreats]

Walking in someone else's shoes

Everybody in this world has their own Journey that they walk. Everybody can insert their sob story here, like I always say. We all have been through our own times and troubles.

 I can remember my aunt saying if everybody was sitting at a table and you all put your problems out, you'd be quick to take your problems back. No one knows your story, no one knows the pain, sorrow, or the reason why you are making the decisions that you do unless they walk in your shoes. 

One of my favorite quotes of all time is from Maya Angelou, she says, "When you know better you do better"

That's true in life, the decisions that you made at 21 wouldn't be the same decisions you made at 51 because you've had more life experience in those years. I write about what happened in my life so that other people may not feel alone like I did. When I was going through my toughest times I felt like I was all alone, like no one knew what I was going through and no one could understand. It is a very isolated feeling, to think your all alone and your scared and don't know what to do and you can't talk to anyone because they would never understand. 

So when I started to write this blog I said to myself, there must be other people out there that were going through what I went through and maybe, just maybe if somebody reads my story it would give them hope to keep going, to find their strength and hopefully leave their situation as well. I'm not saying that my story is the worst story or what I went through was the worst things imaginable because I know that I'm blessed with so much in my life and I know it could have been so much worse and I understand that fully. 

But that doesn't mean when I hear people stories that are worse than mine, that I can judge them on the choices they made because I have not walked in their shoes, I was not there with them, I have no idea of their mindset, you don't know the circumstances, you don't know what was going on at that moment in their head so I can't judge somebody and neither can anyone else. 

Sometimes people do things for all kinds of reasons, they're scared, they're beatdown, they have no self esteem, they got it in their heads that they're never going to make it. Sometimes it's a better life than what they had so they stay with it, maybe they are afraid for their lives, there are all kinds of reasons why people do what they do but it's not for me to judge somebody for the choices they made.

 People always say to women that were in domestic violence situations, why didn't you leave you? You should  have stood up to him, why didn't you take your kids and go? Why didn't you put your kids first?

All of these accusations that get hurled at us, making us feel that much worse. Do you not think that we thought about these things? Do you not think we prayed about getting out of the situation? 

But you cannot judge a woman and say that, unless you walk in her shoes and you knew how scared she was. You cannot judge until you knew what life really was like for her and how she got beat down everyday, until she no longer liked herself or believed in herself.

One of my favorite Ted talks is by Leslie Morgan Steiner, she tells people of her story and in it she says:

"I don't look like a typical domestic violence survivor. I have a B.A. in English from Harvard College, an MBA in marketing from Wharton Business School. I've spent most of my career working for Fortune 500 companies including Johnson & Johnson, Leo Burnett and The Washington Post. I've been married for almost 20 years to my second husband and we have three kids together. My dog is a black lab, and I drive a Honda Odyssey minivan. 

So my first message for you is that domestic violence happens to everyone -- all races, all religions, all income and education levels. It's everywhere. And my second message is that everyone thinks domestic violence happens to women, that it's a women's issue. Not exactly. Over 85 percent of abusers are men, and domestic abuse happens only in intimate, interdependent, long-term relationships, in other words, in families, the last place we would want or expect to find violence, which is one reason domestic abuse is so confusing" 

A person cannot think that because I was educated, that I came from a good family, that I was independent and self sufficient that it couldn't happen to me, that I was "strong" enough to leave even though I knew the situation was wrong.

No one including myself would have thought I could become a victim. Hell, I was a tough ass New Yorker, quick to tell anyone to fuck off but in fact I was a very typical victim because of my age. I was 24 and in the United States, women ages 16 to 24 are three times as likely to be domestic violence victims as women of other ages, and over 500 women and girls this age are killed every year by abusive partners, boyfriends, and husbands in the United States. 

I was also a very typical victim because I knew nothing about domestic violence, its warning signs or its patterns. I didn't come from an abusive family, I never had abusive boyfriends so I had no clue of the signs.

Many domestic violence victims are educated, and are independent women who fall prey to their abusers. But again it doesn't matter what we think, it doesn't help to judge that person when you have no idea what their life was like. It is my job to be honest about my story, to write and speak about it to help others.

I will not judge you on your life decisions because trust me we have all made some fucked up decisions in our lives so don't judge me on mine because you have not walked in my shoes.

"Be the change you want to see"

 

"And just when the caterpillar thought his life over...he turned into a beautiful butterfly"

**Now released my latest book**

The Blessing in Disguise.... revealed

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***Now available***

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