#tuffnut thorston x fem reader

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hi hi!! How are you?

I was wondering if you have any continuation for The jealous one (or other), otherwise no problem!

Have a nice day <3

The Jealous One pt 3

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,492

Hiccup tries to catch your attention. You remain stubbornly obtuse and subtly obstinate.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, suggestive content, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

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“Hello,” You managed, as you squeezed between two large, metal-breasted women.

You were barely able to hold back the urge to break out into a jolly skip, remembering with glee the look on Phlegma’s face when she’d been greeted with a hall half full of greenish sheep. 

You had plans and people waiting for you, though nothing could ever be important enough to keep you from enjoying the smell of fresh air and rainy weather. Currently, the village had just broken free of a drizzle, the clouds parting in order to welcome through soft sunlight which danced, tingling across the skin of your face.

“Good morning,” You wished with cheer as you passed by Burthair, who balked as you curled your lips upwards. Your apparent reputation as sullen, timid, and alone did you wonders so it must have been an awful shock to see you so bright and chipper.

You tapped your toes against the stone foundation marking the beginning of the forge hoping to knock off any loose, dry mud before you tracked it inside, though you were sure it was for naught. There was already a steady line of dirt leading into the forge made up of large, round dragon prints, bookmarks and small rounded crescents you were certain belonged to Gobber’s peg.

“Hello,” You called at a hunched back, connected to a body which was standing before one of the long benches set around the area, one of his arms extended to scribble something down on a piece of parchment while he scanned a book, keeping track of the lines with his right hand.

A lanky set of shoulders startled before Hiccup, the one and only, set his stick down with a level of finality, shoulders falling as he turned, red undershirt crumpled and covered in smudges. His face was also smudged, and you would have had the mind to worry about the state of his book if you had the care and weren’t in such a hurry.

“Hey,” Hiccup said, turning around and running a hand through his hair, leaving dark streaks behind as he did it. You knew how incredibly dirty his pillow was because of it. 

You grinned lopsidedly, wondering how much brighter his hair would be if he’d washed it more often.

He seemed startled to see you smile so bright, a hesitant smile of his own jumping across his mouth. The light from the open window and the side of the forge hit his face pleasantly, lighting the freshly defined shape of his jaw and the high bone of his cheek. It looked soft.

Your ears pinked. You weren’t sure you’d felt this great since you were kids. Or at least since you were fifteen. It wasn’t often that you saw him without his leather anymore. You admired him without it, skinny frame and all.

You shook that thought away, walking in further, circling to face him as he moved throughout the open room. 

“You had a long night?” You asked as you eyed the tired tilt to Hiccup’s eyes and the exhaustive bruising underneath, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to keep you company.”

Hiccup shut his eyes, furrowing his brow and shaking his head as he looked away, “It’s alright.”

You shrugged your shoulders as if you were feeling them out, trying to dispel some of the nervous energy locked in your nonexistent, but growing, still, of course, muscles.

“So…?” Hiccup began.

“So?” You asked, before realizing, lips quirking into an awful, dopey approximation of a grin. Right. And you had to be quick.

“Snot used up all his Zippleback Gas capsules,” You said, finally. When in doubt, blame Snotlout. He was running low too, of course. Because you’d stolen a few.

You hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“Really?” Hiccup rubbed his hands off on a rag, wiping away dark ash and oil. 

You brushed aside all thoughts of Snotlout to ogle at Hiccup again, wondering what it would be like to press your lips to his, chapped and scratched from all his time up in the air. What all that smoke, wind and metal would taste like mixed with spit.

It was very indulgent. You were sure you’d given up on things like that a long time ago, between conversations about Astrid, girlfriends and shooting down dragons, though some fluttery nasty feeling in your stomach reared its head. You were absolutely sure there must have been something in the air to have your face heating up the way it did, and so you were determined not to stew on it as you had for so many nights before.

Hiccup hesitated, stuck in the space between words, brows furrowed as he stared you in the eyes. It was still, quiet for a moment before he spoke again, “I’ll get you some more.”

He opened his mouth again, then shut it, holding back and looking a little guilty for it.

You sighed, fingers twitching.

 Hiccup looked down, nodding, leaning against the forge window, “So, are you free…?”

“Ah, no,” Your shoulders stiffened, already partially turned away as you began to take a few steps backwards. You were a bit surprised that he had asked, certain that he wouldn’t have missed your absence the past couple of days.

 He seemed kind of bummed at that, and maybe a little confused, the corner of his mouth tilting wide, brows quirked as he turned back towards his desk.

“I have to go,” You said awkwardly, grimacing and rubbing the back of your neck, as you began to back out. You had someone waiting for you, after all.

“Yeah, sure, but-! Will you be-” Hiccup turned back around quickly “-free, soon? Wait-!”

“-Unless you’re trying to light it up with Zippleback gas, in which case- Fishlegs just published a study on that, see, it says that, on page thirty-four-” You gestured with your arms, standing in front the rest of your gang, slumped over a large set of crates in the fields.

“Gods, just shut up,” Snotlout groaned as you spent their attention enthusiastically. 

Still somehow you got dragged into another chore with the Jorgenson. You were certain now that everyone thought you to be two of a kind, especially as you began to hang out more and more, which left you slightly unsettled but joyful yet still.

You had run into the twins along the way, but Tuffnut had been long since gone, and Ruffnut’s had followed soon after, though she had the mind when she was there to nod along occasionally and drop a snipe even as her eyes drifted, so as to at least give the impression that she was paying any sort of attention. Maybe that was why Fishlegs liked her so much.

You were just simply on a break between tasks as you waited for Johannes to get back to you with a list of things he needed doing. He’d even offered coins this time, which kept you from running off with Hookfang.

Snotlout was incapable of handling himself during any sort of long conversation or lecture, period. You didn’t mind, however; you were just eager for the opportunity to talk someone’s ear off, and you found that you didn’t feel bad for him at all.

Valhalla knew it had been a while.

“No,” You said, “Anyways, since- Have you taken a look at Bork’s notes recently? Honestly, even though they were edited, so they’re not reliable, of course, I still think the bit on N-...”

You trailed off in your quest to remind Snotlout why it had taken you so long to become friends in the first place as you felt a tap on your shoulder. You jumped, for a moment, turning to meet Hiccup in the eye.

“Anyways, I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow, but- Uh-hm… What was I going to say..?” 

You wrinkled your nose as you turned, a bit disappointed to have been interrupted. The two of you hadn’t talked in a while so you were certain that whatever was coming next wouldn’t be so good.

“Can I go now?” You waved Snotlout off as he complained.

“I-” Hiccup started twitchily, before continuing on, “Are you free?” 

“Not- not right now,” Hiccup shuffled nervously, at your look, before trying again, “But I’ll be free before the sun’s half down, if you have the time. Though I still have to-” 

Snotlout seemed generally uninterested in what you were doing, head on his fist as his head bobbed, struggling not to fall back asleep.

“Damn,” You grumbled under your breath as you watched his shoulders slump then start as he blinked back to wakefulness.

Hiccup glared at Snotlout moodily, looking like one of Johannes’ sad hunting dogs.

You squinted at him, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure,” Hiccup said, scuffing his foot into the dirt as he began to shuffle away, “I’ll meet you later? By the Great Hall?”

You shrugged, “Maybe.”

You watched blankly as Hiccup disappeared around the bend and unsurely made your way back to Snotlout.

“Who took a dump in his boot?” Snotlout griped.

You didn’t deign him with an answer. You weren’t sure how.

You quickly stumbled up the steps to the Great Hall, boots half filled with dirt and a hefty stick lodged down the back of your shirt.

You had lost track of time quickly, easily falling into quick banter and working hard at the promise of coins to spend down at the docks. When you had finally finished and Johannes had finally had the mind to let you leave without any hassle, the sky had already begun to darken and you had realized with a start that you were very, very late.

The sky now was past dark, going from orange to blue and black as you finally made your way up to the top before you were able to bend over and heave, breaths coming quick and heavy as you finished your sprint across the island.

When you finally had enough air to stand back up, you looked around, eyes scanning across half dead half alive grass, listening to the squeaking and chirping of bugs as they came out to explore the night.

“Huh,” You said finally, after a moment. It was empty. You were all too familiar with Hiccup’s penchant for getting dragged away by some task or other, a quest from his father or a want of Gothi or Gobber’s. 

Still, an amount of disappointment in yourself and the circumstance, as well as a small curl of guilt made itself known in your chest. You knew how it felt to be left waiting.

Against all odds, you tried not to let it consume you, though, sure that Hiccup had probably forgotten about it all anyways.

It had been a few days since you’d run up to an empty hall and you had hardly seen Hiccup around at all. If you didn’t know any better, you were sure you would have believed him to be avoiding you. 

You were sure you would see him around soon, though you couldn’t help but to worry.

As such, you became quickly aware of a shadow fastly approaching from your left, as it grew bigger and hovered above you momentarily before continuing forwards, heavy wingbeats blowing against your hair. 

When a quick glance back refused to bear any fruit, you turned your attention back to the bundle of Dragon Nip in your hand, dried and held together by a string which you hung above Snotlout as he shouted and grabbed for it.

You were kneeled over the large stone wall at the base of the hill on the way up the Chief’s hut, one hand clutching the wall as you bounced and dangled the string.

The usual Dragon Nip spots had been harvested to dirt, and Snotlout was too busy doing whatever he did on his lonesome to even search for seeds, not before it was too late.

“Hey!” Snotlout scowled as you stuck your tongue down at him, smiling benignly. You quite enjoyed looking down on him from above.

 You had low stamina but, as you found, with how lazy he had been getting flying everywhere on Hookfang, it was enough for you to just barely run circles around him.

“Hey, Hooks! Give me a hand!” 

Said dragon grumbled, laying behind him, head on his clawed wings, resting in the sun like a lazy, fat cat. 

His eyes were closed, though occasionally he’d snort amusedly and flick his tail, paying vague attention. His gaze might have been just as raptly kept on the grass if you hadn’t raked your hands just under his jaw earlier, dropping a few blades into his open maw, Snotlout none the wiser. So, at the moment, it seemed as if he was just pleasantly out of it, taking in the cool morning breeze.

You heard a thump before the familiar gurgle of Toothless, as he landed just behind Snotlout, stepping and hopping lightly as he landed. 

It was not soon after that that Hiccup dismounted, swinging his leg off Toothless and stumbling to his feet.

“Hiccup?” You asked, just as Snotlout let out his own annoyed exclamation.

“Urgh. Watch where you’re going!”

“Hey,” Hiccup said nasally, rubbing sticks and twigs out of his hair, before grumpily greeting Snotlout.

“Cool it, twinkle toes,” Snotlout didn’t fail to notice the bite in his tone, smearing and snarking back, “What do you want?

Hiccup glowered at him sourly.

You held back a laugh as you began your climb down the side of the top of the stone wall, Dragon Nip bundle still in hand. 

You jerked back as a branch from one of the bushes to your side caught on the side of your tunic and scowled to yourself, putting the Nip under your armpit as you fumbled with the branch, trying your hardest to undo it.

“Fishlegs is on his way over,” Hiccup mumbled under his breath irascibly, as you trotted up to them.

Once free, you walked forward, noticing with glee how quickly Snotlout had turned his attention away from you, who was trying to move as quietly as possible.

“I didn’t catch that. Do you mind repeating it?” Snotlout jabbed smugly.

“Fishlegs is on his way over!” You shouted loudly, laughing again as he jumped away, hands over his ears, no doubt nursing sore drums before turning his scowl onto you.

You turned towards Hiccup. He looked, in part, ruffled, eyes wide, lips quirked downwards though you found him no less charming and no less saddening as you did before, especially, as you were suddenly reminded, after you had left him waiting at the Great hall. 

You slumped slightly, brows cinching and lips turning down, about to mumble a sullen apology for the other day before you felt a heavy weight crash into your side. 

 Perhaps realizing you were now at his level, once you were turned away, Snotlout began to scramble for you.

You yelped as he grabbed for the bundle of Nip, shouting nonsensically and running around Hiccup, keeping close to his back and using him as a human shield.

“Give it to me!” Snotlout shouted, “You don’t even have a dragon!”

Hiccup stared at the two of you, brows furrowed disconcertingly the whole time, head swiveling in an effort to keep up, arms up in an effort to keep balance, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“No!” You scoffed, shouting back wheezily, knowing very well that if you didn’t give any to him, he’d have nothing for Hookfang for a good long while, “You snooze you lose.”

You startled as he feinted to Hiccup’s left, moving to his right. You ran the opposite direction, the two of you running circles around Hiccup.

“So what-” Hiccup panted, trying to keep up with you, who was already working up a sweat, trying to carry a bit-too-large basin in you arms, “What’s been going on between you and Snotlout?”

“What?” You shouted back, feet moving a bit too hurriedly for the load you kept wrapped in your arms. 

Your eyes trained on the top of the hill as it grew nearer, legs working furiously to meet your goal.

“You and- Snotlout-?”Hiccup asked, prosthetic giving him slight trouble as you stumble-ran across a large incline, little red with plants, grass, rocks, roots and budding bushes on the other side of the large bridge leading out from the village.

“What?” You asked back distractedly, again, “I can’t hear-Whatever you’re asking, the answer is probably ‘no!’”

“Really? Because I really, really-” 

You blocked him out slightly, though not on purpose, the effort you were already expending on working your legs and on keeping a bare grip on the smooth wood basin with sweaty palms making it difficult to pay attention.

You weren’t sure when Hiccup began tagging along, probably once you bridged the gap between the forest and, well, bridge. In all fairness, you were a bit too preoccupied to be sure.

You took a moment’s rest as you finally reached the top, surface plateauing and settling into a flat, open-ish only barely tree-ed plain. You walked past a set of trees into the grass, stopping by a shallow ditch filled with plants and bordered by roots.

Then, with a pitiful whine, you realized that you’d come the wrong way.

You heard there was a new outcropping of Dragon Nip on the other side of the island. You needed to get there before anyone else could harvest the spot dry, and before Snotlout could hear anything of it, so you rushed immediately to compensate. You hurried it up tenfold after the twins began putting in their own requests. So it wasn’t just you and Hookfang on the line.

You should have just told them to stick it. You grit your teeth with the realization, set now in your motivation to grab everything and not give them a bit. You’d sell it instead.

You turned, then, from the middle of the clearing, the head of your foot caught on a rock, causing you to stumble forward, into Hiccup.

“Son of a-”

The two of you grappled with the basin and with each other in an effort not to tumble, which ultimately ended in you losing your grip on it, sore and strained fingers twitching erratically as blood once again rushed through them.

You tried to go after the basin as he grasped your arm in a panic in an effort to keep steady, causing the two of you to fall, made all the worse by the subtle dip in the earth.

You hit your elbow as you fell, the world blurry and confusing until you came to a quick and dizzying stop, as if you’d been flipped.

It was a struggle, but you landed forwards, with your hands on both sides of Hiccup’s head. 

Sun filtered through the leaves, light landing gently on his face, framing one cheekbone and the other eye, lightly caressing the sides of your face, covering you like a soft, thin, weighted blanket.

In the short moment you took to glance down at him, he was mid-blink. His brows were up high, and the set of his mouth and jaw were lax.

 He looked stunned, most probably because of the weighty pressure of your torso against his gut and one knee pressed between his, the other on the outside of him, though you didn’t have much to take notice or to marvel, which was in part by design.

Why would you, when you knew for sure that this boy was one who wouldn’t marvel back?

Moments passed by in a hurry, a rush that should not have allowed you to even register a moment. The kind of rush of experiences and memories made to meshed and flow like a stone tumbling along a river, ephemeral and summed up by the emotions you felt in that exact instant.

Of course, you realized that had you slowed down you might have imagined a world where this would have seemed, to you, to be a magical moment. Perhaps there was something special about it, though you didn’t have much of a mind to care for anything besides the nip and the awful soft -but brief- look in the eyes of the boy below you. It really was quite the beautiful day out.

“Come on, come on,” You startled, pushing off the ground and rolling over him, ignoring his soft grunt, rushing and scrambling for a hold against the hill, grabbing for grass as you scrambled out of the ditch, running after your basin as it cracked against stone and rolled all the way down the hill and back towards the cliffs.

As you ran off, half rolling again down the hill back into the forest, you left Hiccup, turned over on his side with furrowed brows. 

He pulled his hand, reaching to grab after you, back towards his middle, confused and startled tilt to his lips as he watched you go.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

The Jealous One pt 2

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1,351

You and the twins become acquainted.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, the Twins

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You and Snotlout peered around a corner of the Great Hall, one of the closets on the way to the kitchen area. He was leaning over your head as you were crouched close to the floor, giving each other enough room to both peer past while also retaining your personal space.

“Ruffnut’s hot,” He said, as you wrinkled your nose at him, “And single.”

It was dark on account of it not being mealtime as of yet, the torches cool and unlit in their holsters.

“She doesn’t like you,” You rolled your eyes, “Besides, what happened to Astrid?”

Snotlout wasn’t that close with anyone either, for obvious reasons. But once you got used to him he became sort of bearable. It helped that there was no love lost between the two of you, forced together more out of boredom and circumstance than anything else. 

“She’s too busy with the nerd to give me a shot.” He scoffed.

You were glad to be spared the terrible pick-up lines, for the most part. You were still the bouncing board sometimes, in a ‘does this sound right?’ or ‘do I look hot enough to pull?’ sort of sense. You always said ‘no.’

“Which one?” You grinned. You felt a bit bad for making the jab, but Astrid, Fishlegs and Hiccup were all in their own sort of three-way acquaintanceship, the mention of which you knew would put him off.

“Ugh,” Snotlout made a noise that could only be likened to a gurgle and he used his hand to shove you further downwards, to which in response you elbowed up, jabbing him in the gut. 

He was a bit rough sometimes but he was good company and decent enough entertainment when he wasn’t. That was okay, though, because you’d long grown past the nervous stage in your friendship where you’d been too nervous to prod back, not that he’d been exactly trying to roughhouse you at that time.

You cradled the thick pigskin in your arms, carefully filled until bursting with a hardy mix of sap and honey and sewn tightly but clumsily shut by the both of you.

You snorted crawling out from under Snotlout and edging your way into the empty hall, “Where do you think I should stash this? Do you mind playing distraction again?”

“There are no good spots,” Snotlout complained, “Why don’t we just throw this at someone and get it over with?”

“And where would we find someone?” You asked, glancing back and forth, “There’s no one here.... We should really get going. I don’t want to get caught.”

You backed up slightly on your toes, causing Snotlout to have to back up too to compensate. He got the idea eventually, moving back out of your way.

Snotlout complained, “If there’s no people in the hall, then why are we hiding? I mean, they’d catch you. Wuss.”

“Shut up,” You glared back at him, tossing the pigskin in his direction, “And I meant I didn’t want to get caught with you.”

“Whatever,” Snotlout scoffed, catching it roughly. 

You winced, expecting it to burst, though was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t. 

You turned, ready to leave, and nearly bumped into someone else as you did.

Tuffnut. Ruffnut stood next to him, both of her arms crossed over her chest. 

You could just barely make out her face over the shadows and she waning torchlight.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you pasted a twitchy grin onto your face, eyeing the newcomers.

“Nothing.” Tuffnut said dully, holding a very obviously full bucket by his front.

“What are you doing back here?” Tuffnut squinted his eyes at you with mock cynicism, leaning closer exaggeratedly.

You listened to the creak of the large doors of the Great Hall, allowing light to trickle into the dark space and a light smattering of conversation as people began to pour in.

Ruffnut craned her head towards and around you.

Snotlout snorted, holding the skin obviously in front of him.

“We were talking about how hot Snotlout thinks you are.” You said snidely and glaring at Snotlout from the corner of your eye.

“What, me?” Asked Tuffnut, turning sharply to look at Snotlout, finger pointing to himself as the bucket revealed itself, swinging some of its contents onto the floor.

“What?” Snotlout glared at you, then back at the twins, “No!”

Tuffnut opened his arms wide, dropping the bucket to the floor, the black, tar-like slush seeping across clean-ish stone, “Bring it in, man.”

You sighed, rolling back your eyes, Tuffnut beginning to enclose in on him. 

You looked back just in time to meet eyes with Snotlout, who was feeling the pigskin in his hand, bringing it up and down testily.

You shook your head, dread growing in your gut. 

Your legs bent as you braced to run. Snotlout might have been able to handle the twins but you certainly couldn’t.

You gasped as he lobbed the skin at Tuffnut. It smacked straight into his face, bursting and splashing onto Ruffnut, who shouted loudly in retaliation. 

Weren’t sure what kind of expression he wore behind the spray as you turned around and bolted.

You listened to the trees, their leaves rusting quickly together by the beginning of the line, just a few long yards away from your feet. 

“Gross. …In the mead?” You whispered back, facing up towards the night sky. You couldn’t make out much besides the stars, which perhaps seemed to make them shine all the brighter.

You felt the mud beneath you move uncomfortably as you shifted though you were much too tired to care. It wouldn’t do much anyways, nearly the whole of your front half was crusted in mud.

The others weren’t much different, collapsed and fallen like an assortment of mismatched flower petals. You couldn’t see them, but you could feel the weight of their presence displacing the air to your sides.

Turns out the lot of you got along like a hut on fire. 

“I was five.” Tuffnut declared, his eyes, not bothering to be quiet, as the rest of you.

Past you and everyone else was the incline to a shallow hill, just low enough to see past it but still tall enough to make your legs burn with effort as you had tried to run past just an hour or so earlier.

“He was,” Ruffnut agreed in a whisper, to your left. You heard the sound of flesh on metal as Tuffnut was weakly whacked on the head, her shaky arm reaching over to smack his helmet with her palm.

You thought of your earlier game of cat-and-mouse.

Your hand, laid over your torso, twitched over a spot that still ached in a deep and dull way where a mud ball had been thrown into you particularly roughly.

Overall, it was thrilling. You thought it might be dangerous at first, out so late at night trying to run with such violate personalities.

Honestly, though it turned out to be no different than when you’d made off with Hiccup as kids. Hiccup could be a pretty violate personality himself sometimes, though not in the same ways.

“You get freebies at that age, right?” Tuffnut managed, as Snotlout groaned from above you. You heavily suspected that he had begun to drift in and out of sleep. 

“‘M helmet…” He groaned, “Lost…”

You smiled hawkishly at the reminder, resisting the urge to kick the horned object by your feet further away.

You remembered you and Hiccup messing around as children. People were a lot nicer on him when he was a young kid. They got harder on him when he got older, and then they gave up, which probably felt a lot worse than them being mad. 

“Right,” You said, “Still gross. Someone had to drink that, you know.”

You were able to avoid most repercussions. The Chief's son making a mess was a lot bigger news than you, even after it became a pattern, and a lot more interesting-sounding when they omitted his sidekick.

“Well,” Tuffnut shrugged,” They didn’t have to.”

“...That is true.” You snorted, beaming.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

The Jealous One pt 11

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1,895

The Great Hall is blissfully empty.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

<Previous -

You grasped the sides of your tray, staring at the sad, shallow bowl by your pitiful excuse for a bread lump, stale, and an empty mug of nothing. 

The Great Hall around you was much less lively than usual, especially for the time. 

As the agreed-upon date approached, all pretenses had been dropped and everyone had been crashing early, having put their heart and soul into preparations, and the mealtime crowds ended up poorer for it, though you found no qualms with that.

The food, too, was poorer than usual. That was one thing you did find qualms with- the stew was thin and meat in smaller pieces, which, of course, made it a slight bit easier to get to the soup before anything else, to drink from the side of the bowl or scoop out food bits with your spoon, but it left your stomach half-empty.

The large hall doors creaked ominously, the flow of Vikings coming in and out slow and carried Great pause yet the greater dining space remained empty. 

 You stood in front of a long table on top of which there lay food, unattended as it usually would not be, not noticing as someone peculiar wandered into the hall behind the rest, an irrelevant action paired to a relevant person.

You did notice fingers brushing against the inside of the crook of your arm, causing your head to swivel.

You blinked owlishly, stuck between a greeting and warm cheekbones, unsurprised to see who had garnered your attention. 

“Hello,” You said in a tone even you couldn’t decipher, toeing the lines between pleasant, cheerful and ambiguous.

Hiccup stood before you with tired eyes, his hand still half-extended before in a moment choosing to step forwards into your space, bridging the gap between appropriate, friendly and cherished all at once.

As of late, it had seemed Hiccup had been given much more responsibility than usual, though despite the fact that he was busy with festival prep, he still always found the time to say hello to you, which you’d found to be a mild comfort despite yourself.

You had found a few moments to hang out with Snotlout and the Twins separately, though those instances were much less frequent with the bustle and their shackles to their own unwilling responsibilities. You had seen the Twins dragged away by the ear on more than one occasion during the most recent times.

“My Dad is finally back,” He said plainly, in lieu of anything else, though you could tell by his tone and the way his eyes darted to the side that he hadn’t much cared to say that at all. 

“Bummer,” You smiled slightly, though you were sure your cinched brows conveyed some of your nervousness. 

Hiccup smiled something back, soft and wry, lips tight. 

You couldn’t help but imagine a thick layer of flour across his jaw and spotting the underside of his mop of hair, dough along one side of his mouth- you remembered exactly what it tasted like with a slightly rough set of fingers on your cheek, guiding you as he tilted his own head, something fiery rocking in your guts at the simple touch.

You eyed one of the smaller tables, way off to the side where the lighting was poorer and the hall was colder- a place you found smidge more comfortable than any other.

“So…” You started after a long moment of silence, “Are you hungry?”

Hiccup blinked, then grimaced, “Not really? I just, ah…”

“Came to mingle?” You raised a brow.

“Yeah.” Hiccup said, grimacing harder, shifting in a way that brought him closer to you.

You shifted your shoulders and adjusted your stance, staring Hiccup straight in the face, ignoring the fluster that was building in your chest and along the skin of your face, “Okay. You’ve been mingled.”

“...I’ve been mingled,” Hiccup said dryly.

“Yes, now go,” You snuffed, “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Hiccup slouched slightly, looking at you blankly, “When would that be?”

You ignored him, nearly grumbling, “Did I apologize for ditching you yet? I didn’t ditch you on purpose. I did try and get to you later.”

“You should have,” Hiccup protested, leaning slightly to the side. You looked into his eyes from this new angle. “On purpose, I mean. Even after, I…”

“What?” You spoke as his fingers teased your wrist, his forehead dangerously close to yours, “I don’t think- I said it’s fine, so you should just… drop it.”

“I don’t want to drop it,” Hiccup said, furrowing his brows, “Especially since- …”

You felt as if you had been put on center stage, though you weren’t quite sure which script you were supposed to be using.

“Really, it doesn’t matter,” You grumbled. You shifted your tray into one hand, and from then on it became a precarious thing, its balance uneven, but it made it easier for you to wave him off before jabbing him in the side. “I really do forgive you. You don’t- I mean, I’d- Really, after…”

You weren’t sure, truly, what Hiccup had meant by- that. Pressed lips, all the exercising and apologizing and testing the grounds of your… Whatever this was. You weren’t sure- not of anything, not of whether it had cleared the weary air between the two of you or if it had made it much more smoggy. 

You weren’t sure whether to be more mad at him or less, though you didn’t have the heart to figure it out.

You winced slightly, your fingers stubbing against tight leather and buckle, though you didn’t so much as make a peep about it.

“I- Ouch,” Hiccup said, before offering you his hand and eyeing the small table your eyes had left just a moment prior, his thumb running cautious lines up and down the back of one of your hands, “Well, fine, then. If… If you really mean it this time, then ...Do you want to come back to the table with me?” 

Around you, the murmur conversation grew slightly from nothing to a small uptaking mumble as a group of late-arrivals poured in through the hall doors.

“No,” You held up your mug, feeling both disconcerted and shy as you teased his covered collarbone with your eyes, wondering what in the world you two were to each other, “I still need to…”

“That’s fine,” Hiccup relaxed, stepping backwards, “How about we go… Get a refill? Then make our way back later?”

“‘We’?” You asked suspiciously, your shoulder bumping into his.

The rabble was slightly quieter than it was before, boiling at a nice, spoken murmur, dotted occasionally by the sound of shouting.

“Fine,” You shook your head yet when he moved, you moved to walk side-by-side.

You held your mug to your lips, looking sideways from the corner of your eyes at Hiccup as your pinkies nearly touched. 

You had your feet braced against the side of a bench, the two of you sitting on top of one of the tables in the Great Hall. Most of the riders -sans Astrid, though you knew she was bound to follow- were gathered around, you and Hiccup being only a part of the ring of teens closing off the space between two narrow bench isles.

Hiccup laughed nervously, maybe a bit too loud at something the others said, Adam's apple bobbing recklessly. 

It wasn’t so bad, spending time with Hiccup again.

You had to wrinkle your nose as Snotlout said something sour about Agnarr, who was off in the corner trying to start an ill-fated tussle with Phlegma, who most likely had much better things to be doing than fighting with him.

You and Hiccup used to do the same thing together, once- not the tussling, but the snide remark-ing. 

You had to wonder, at one point, if he’d been judging you like you’d poked fun at drunk Vikings in the hall, fighting and rough around the eyes. You didn’t like being the punchline.

You furrowed your brows and looked away as something warm and familiar roiled in your gut, offset by your feelings of mild frustration and flush, mind stuck on dry lips and meaningful, flat presses.

The hall had filled, eventually, with late arrivals and so, now, you’d found it full, and the peaceful, quiet, unsure time you had spent by Hiccup had been gradually interrupted.

The hall cleared slightly as someone shouted from a few tables down, the loud clattering of dishes and the loud smacking sound of fist on flesh signaling the beginning of another fight.

You’d slip away later, when he wasn’t paying you as much attention.

You were perhaps a bit less cautious than you should have been, the stone planks below still wet from an earlier rain as you stepped forwards.

 You came to a slow stop on one of the steps to the hall as you heard someone call your name and the slow groan of the Great Hall doors as they were pulled open and then shut again.

“Where are you going?”

He held your hands imploringly, fingers grasping around the backs of your knuckled, holding them so your palms faced upwards..

“Are you alright?” You asked him, still not looking him in the eye.

As far as you knew, Hiccup had also made an effort to avoid the trouble, keeping to the sides of the hall and out of the way of flying fists.

“I’m tired,” He admitted, “A little- a little bit-”

His voice broke off into a yawn. It was clumsy, and awkward, and the tone of his voice just felt a bit out of place.

It was sort of cute.

Your eyes widened slightly, his forehead touched yours as he settled, blinking drowsily, before lifting his head. 

You felt his chin brush against your forehead and, briefly, his breath, warm compared to the cool night air, against your face. You became familiar with what wasn’t visible in the light of day, a small dusting of slightly rosy skin, where peachy hairs sprouted. 

“But... No, I mean- We, well, for fun, we haven’t- since…” Hiccup suggested slowly.

You were painfully reminded of your hands held in his and you shut your eyes tightly.

Heat burned up your back like a flush on your cheeks, hot and prickling, beseeching you to take notice, to note it down for later turning over. It felt to you like a Nadder flexing its spines, or a Skrill, lightning dancing up its back the way Hiccup recounted to you after the whole defrosting debacle.

“...” You tried to speak, opening your mouth reluctantly, not looking at him. But you softened just a little bit, on the inside. 

“Yeah,” You said, shrugging. “...Yeah.”

The double meaning, to you, was obvious.

“It’s okay. I…” Hiccup started, “I-...”

You bumped him in the shoulder with your own, “Yeah.”

“How about we try this again? Meet here… Tomorrow,” Hiccup suggested, gnarly mumbling, “Or-or somewhere else. Make up for lost time? I know there’s a nice place on the other side of the mountain, where the hills-craigs… It’s nice there. I think you know it. Or… Would you like to go to the festival with me?”

Then you looked at him, eyes peering out from under your eyelashes, head tilted down in a way that made it difficult not to do so, “I guess that would be fine.”

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Do you have more of " Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot"? It's so good that I'd like to read more about it <3

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 10

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,963

You hitch a ride with the Twins. 

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Defenders of Berk, The Night and The Fury, unedited

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“Okay, seriously, who’s going to watch the dragons?” Came the muffled voice of Hiccup from outside. 

You shifted around, arms pulled tightly, together, rubbing against rough, frayed, grainy fabric, too busy trying to reorient yourself to pay any real attention. You were certain this was going to give you a rash.

You ignored the ruckus going on outside, a dragon attack or something, trying to shift so that you weren’t curled completely around, feet pressed against the knot holding your sack closed. 

This wasn’t necessarily what you expected when the Thorston Twins said they had a job for you. You wished you had more time to react before they’d shoved you into the sack. At least enough time to ask for some air holes.

You puffed hot air against your hands, blinking roughly before, all of a sudden, you dropped. You winced as your shoulders met sand, tumbling onto the floor, tumbling out of the sack.

“Yeah, we knew you were going to make us do something stupid like this-”

You landed half on your back and stayed there, staring up at the sky for a good minute as you made an effort to blink away the vertigo.

“-That’s why we brought someone else to take my place.” 

Then, you dug shaky hands into the ground, feeling sand catch under your nails with discomfort. 

“Hey,” You heard the indignant voice of Ruffnut grumble, “What about me?”

“You snooze, you lose, sister.”

You pushed yourself up by your hands, making out the faces of Berk’s Dragon Riders by the dim light of their lanterns, and hoped with a vague suspicion that you hadn’t stumbled your way into another television episode.

“Hi,” You said, swiveling your head slowly in order to get a good view of all of the riders. For some reason, your eyes landed fixedly on Hiccup, who was very notably refusing to look you in the eye.

You furrowed your brows, wondering where the dragon was.

“Tuffnut,” Astrid reprimanded.

They all held simple box lanterns.

Hiccup had his shield, made of Gronckle Iron, on one arm. It reflected dim light, shining silver and white. Pristine, well taken care of and very, very new. And soon-to-be sullied, probably, too.

“Why doesn’t she stay behind and take care of the dragons?” Fishlegs suggested, “Or-or she could take my place instead.”

Their dragons convened behind them. Toothless snuffled at Stormfly as Barf tried to nip at him from behind. His scales were chipped and a dull green and turquoise. He’d probably need a wash soon. 

“We’ve already been over this, Fishlegs.” Hiccup suggested, turning and squinting at him.

You shrugged and turned your eyes to the coast, listening to the sound of claws digging into sand and boots kicking it up. You kept a careful eye on cooling glass, sand red and melted into a small crater, and made a point to stay carefully positioned away from it.

You wondered how difficult it would be to swim back to Berk on your own. Not that you wanted to, anyhow.

“Do you know how to take care of the dragons?” Astrid asked, “We can’t just fly back now.”

“No idea,” You said, just as Tuffnut suggested that they did. Besides that one time during Snoggletog with Hiccup, you weren’t sure you’d ever ridden a one. 

“See?” Fishlegs protested, as they quickly fell into chaos, “I didn’t want to do the exercise much anyways.”

“Well, she-she could always come with me?” Hiccup suggested uneasily, as you dug the toes of your boots into the sand, scooting back slightly as the tides swelled, “I could fly her back and meet up with you guys after you finish the exercise. Or I could go and try to find her a dragon. To fly back on.”

You hoped not. That seemed like a lot of responsibility.

“Dude.”

You sighed, completely disconnected as you stared off at the horizon line. The sea was eerily black this late at night. You wondered how things were doing back where you came from, and whether the ocean back in your world was just as cold.

“Hiccup. Really? Now isn’t the time for that.”

“She’s coming with me,” He said, tapping His prosthetic soundlessly into the sand, as if resisting the urge to shuffle.

“For what?” You asked finally, turning around as you pulled yourself from your musings.

“Do you ever wonder what goes on at the breeding ground when the dragons aren’t there? Is it just one big hunk of rock? Or do you think some of them stick around?” You walked alongside Hiccup, trying not to let your feet drag as you walked alongside him.

“Actually, I’m not sure.” Hiccup nodded shiftily, still not able to look you in the eye. His mouth opened and closed once or twice, as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

Your hands rubbed at your arms through your thin tunic as you very much wished you were back on Berk, in your bed. But your landlords had just started taking rent.

You wrinkled your nose, trying not to chatter your teeth.

“Do you want my, ah, coat?” Hiccup asked, eventually, before trying awkwardly to pull it off. It was a bit hard considering his hands were full, and so you held out your hand in an offer to hold the lantern.

“No, it’s okay. I mean I wouldn’t want to- take it from you. It’s cold. You can keep it. I can carry- oh.”

Hiccup had settled down his shield and pulled off his coat, offering it to you. You took it with unsure hands, your knuckle brushing gently across his fingertip.

“It’s fine, I have plenty more.” Hiccup said, picking up his shield. It looked like he was about to try and dust it off but thought better of it.

“Really?” You asked. You sniffed it suspiciously, feeling the fur in hand. It was a lot shorter than it had been before, nearly down to the leather and definitely singed in some parts, but it was still just as cozy.

“Well, no, but I was outgrowing it anyways.” Hiccup shrugged with false casualty, head facing away but his eyes looking back at you, just in his green tunic. 

You couldn’t make out much else, especially not just by lamplight. He didn’t look like he was outgrowing it.

The fur was incredibly soft between your fingertips, though even without leaning your head in close you could smell the heavy scent of smoke and metal. Hiccup had probably left it in the forge overnight or something. You had heard the Chief complaining about it before.

“Wait, you mean you’re giving it to me? Like, giving it, giving it?” Hiccup flushed under the scrutiny. You decided to dial it back.

“Well yeah, the red-” He stammered.

“-Tunic. Right. Well, I promise I’ll return it to you after.”

“No, you won’t.” He insisted stubbornly, metaphorically digging his heels in. You wondered how neither he nor any of the other Vikings on Berk were ever cold at all. 

“I will,” You stared stubbornly back, the two of you locked in a sort of staring contest until you saw Hiccup’s eyes focus on something behind you.

Mournfully, you broke eye contact, and turned to look behind you where, just over a ledge were the smoky beginnings of a fire.

“...Great.” Hiccup sighed, taking the first few steps around you.

You weren’t even sure how they got so far ahead of you two and had the time to put up a fire, but that was just as fine. As long as there was something warm.

“Oh, cool.” You said, tossing Hiccup’s coat back at him as you quickly sped your way out of his range, “A fire. Are we allowed to even have fires?”

“I don’t- you’d have to ask Astrid…”

“What happened to only dragons being able to find Dragon Island?” You mumbled to yourself drowsily, though you were sure you already knew the answer. 

A lot of the smoke around the island had cleared since most of the dragons fled it, and it was a lot more accessible now that it didn’t have an armada of scales to defend it.

You wondered if coming back was at all traumatizing for the dragons. Honestly, you were surprised the island had any shrubbery at all, though you supposed that the Timberjacks might need it. 

You wondered how the Berserkers discovered this island, if at all an island suddenly appearing from the mist was startling to them. Or if they were too unfamiliar with the area to notice or care. The island was in Hooligan Territory, after all.

You stood at the edge of the treeline as Dagur lifted Hiccup into the air, angrily recounting their last meeting on the island. You had a small dagger clutched in hand, though kept it vaguely out of view, waiting for either Hiccup to signal you, though he was currently enthusiastically shaking his head ‘no,’ or for Dagur to start acting just a little bit too deranged.

“And then you kicked me off!” Dagur grit out angrily, “Why are you here? Are you planning to steal my kill, again?” 

Dagur ended the last bit slowly, holding out his sword, the tip of it pointing threateningly towards Hiccup. 

“What am I doing here?” Hiccup asked nervously, and irritatedly, somehow, looking back and forth between you and Dagur.

You had to resist the urge to back away as your heart picked up speed.

You asked yourself what in the world had happened between the two the last time they were on Berk together; if this was supposed to happen.

You mouthed a nervous ‘What do I do?’ back at him as you took a hasty step past what looked to be the flayed skin of a Gronkle.

“You know what? I know exactly what you’re doing he-...” Dagur paused, following Hiccup's line of sight. His face scrunched up as if he had only just realized you were there. In all fairness, he probably had.

“You.”

You tried to pull your dagger- well, Hiccup’s, really- further behind you so that he wouldn’t see it, though you had very little hope as his eyes caught it, probably glinting back the light of the fire.

“Nothing! We’re doing nothing.” Hiccup said, laughing nervously and pushing Dagur’s sword down with his fingertips by the flat end as dread coiled in your gut.

“You…” Dagur began with a sneer, shoulders high. Then, suddenly, like the sky after a heavy rain, his face cleared, “You’re on a date!”

You let out a heavy sigh, which morphed into mildly hysterical laughter as the aggressive lines of his face smoothed itself out into a false, strained grim. Then you grimaced, certain you’d missed something in between then and the last time you encountered Dagur.

“A date?!” Hiccup asked, as you attempted to smother your confusion. You weren’t quite sure where he got that idea. You wondered next when his mood would flip.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you!” Dagur finished, opening his arms wide and taking the first steps forward into your direction, “I’m going to enjoy tearing the both of you apart!”

“I wish you had.” You grumbled sourly, very pointedly ignoring the last bit, afraid to poke the proverbial dragon.

You kept a safe distance from the swords and other various weaponry buried into the ground everywhere in sight around the campfire. You took a moment to stare wide-eyed at a skull, a Nadder, presumably, sticking out from a branch hanging over the clearing.

“A firecracker, that one.” The orange firelight flickered menacingly across Dagur’s face, whose eyes were narrowing again. You could see a vein on the corner of his forehead beating. You imagined it might be very easy for him to over take you with an axe, and even easier to hide your remains somewhere on the island.

“No, not really,” You mumbled, wincing, relaxing the hand holding the borrowed knife. You really did need to get one of your own. 

“The two of you! Like two elements! Fire and,” Dagur looked over Hiccup, “Something else just as… Ferocious.”

You grimaced as he turned around, shifting away as best you could without being noticed.

“Fire isn’t an element.” You muttered under your breath as Hiccup shuffled his way uncomfortably back towards you. You wondered if it was too soon for you and Hiccup to leave and get the heck out of dodge.

Dagur laughed erratically, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Though, to be fair, you preferred this version of him a lot more to the version you met on Berk. He was much less aggressive this way. Or, at least, purposefully aggressive. Towards you.

“Huh?” Hiccup asked disconcertedly.

“Fire isn’t an element. It’s a reaction. I think,” You stared blankly at Dagur’s retreating back.

“So, what are you here for?” Hiccup asked Dagur as your shoulders bumped into each other. He pulled his dusty shield higher in front of you and further to his left to it covered some of you both as Dagur pulled up an especially wicked serrated blade from the dirt.

Scouring through your memories, you tried to look for something, anything to get you out of this situation. You glanced at Hiccup guiltily. You felt a little bad sometimes, for keeping all these future things to yourself. But you weren’t sure who would believe you, and it had been a whole year and you realized with alarm that you were beginning to lose a few things. 

You tried not to think too much about it. The concept was frightening to say the least.

“The only thing worth being out for,” Dagur paused, “Dragon hunting.”

“What happened?” You asked under your breath, leaning sideways closer to Hiccup. You felt the tips of a tuft of his hair scratch the side of your face as you searched Dagur’s, loathe to look away as if it might tell you the answer.

You were half inclined to believe it was your little tussle back on Berk that caused it, but you were sure that wasn’t enough to inspire manslaughter, at least not to any sane mind. 

“Oh, well, I said somethings, he said some things, a few words were exchanged-Most of which I probably should have kept to myself-” Hiccup mumbled hurriedly and ruefully back, speaking just above a whisper, “We really need to get out of here.”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t cut you down where you stand?” Dagur scowled, turning back to you.

You felt a bead of sweat slide down your neck, noting from the corner of your eye Hiccup forming the beginning of an answer.

“We’ve got somewhere else to be!” You grinned testily, answering before Hiccup could, “Supposed to meet up with, uh, the rest of our group. A large amount of people. Training exercise. Everyone knows about it, really.”

“What a coincidence. I didn’t come alone either. You’ll have fun explaining where you and your little friends are to my armada.” Dagur stalked up to the two of you, pulling weapons from the ground as he strode. 

“Gods, what is it with you and your armada?” Hiccup exclaimed, gesturing with his shield. 

As Dagur approached and Hiccup’s shield became less and less of an obstacle between the two of you, you took the opportunity to kick up between his legs, not at all taking the time to watch as Dagur folded over, voice wrought with anger, “Now, that was a little-”

Hiccup engaged his shield partially, dropping it hard so that he delivered a heavy blow to Dagur’s head, and dropped his lantern right by the fire, its metal skeleton bouncing against wood and stone.

Hiccup was smart, sometimes. More mechanically inclined than booksmart, at least outright. You found that to be one of the most intelligent decisions Hiccup ever made.

“Come on!” You began, just as Hiccup began shouting for Toothless.

Hiccup sprinted slightly ahead, collapsed shield in hand as he jumped fully onto Toothless’ saddle. 

You followed with a nervous laugh, a skid and a kick of dirt as you stumbled, nearly tripping as you slung your leg over Toothless’ saddle and slid close to Hiccup’s back.

Hiccup was bent forward with the ghost of a fright and a shade of awkward confidence in his voice as he urged you forwards and Toothless into the sky.

Said dragon launched very soon after, making a quick effort to catch up to the rest of the Rider’s dragons, Dagur storming behind you across the clifftops.

You turned to look back quickly, bringing your hand up to Hiccup’s shoulder in an attempt to stay stable even as Toothless flew like a rocket, splitting through the air.

Your heart pounding, adrenaline doing numbers. You felt Hiccup’s heart through his back, like some sort of war drum. You worried he might actually have a heart attack.

You felt his torso stiffening as you wrapped your arms around his middle, though he remained razor focused on the sky in front of him. On the gently curved horizon line in the distance.

Hiccup’s shoulders jumped under your hands as you moved your hands onto his shoulders. Quickly, you pressed up close to his back, so close your upper thighs were pressed to the back of Hiccup’s, in an effort to fight against the pushing wind, and brought your head over his shoulder, resisting the urge to bury your wind-bitten nose into the collar of your tunic. 

Being in the sky gave you the perfect opportunity to say it. It was probably inappropriate timing, but as you found Dragon island becoming more and more of a speck in the distance, you found that you didn’t care.

“See? The Earth is round!”

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hello I literally love ur writing style SO much, been binge reading all your httyd stuff and having a blast!!! Ty for being awesome, ur updates always make my day :3

The Jealous One pt 5

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1848

The Great Hall is always a nice place to frequent when one’s seeking companionship. You are, however, not doing that.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

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You spoke and acted suddenly with Hiccup and with a wrongness that had made you uneasy for days to follow.

Acting out with Snotlout and the Twins had gone against a lot of your do-good lay-low-and-miserable instincts, which made you momentarily numb to them, in a way. 

When you were caught up with them, too busy to think, you ended up doing things in ways you definitely wouldn't have had you been thinking normally. The joy always ended up outweighing any other feelings you might have had on what you did later, but now it was a little different.

You feigned normal, but also you avoided Hiccup a lot, so you weren’t sure how you ended up here.

“-I don’t think that does anything for most dragons,” Fishlegs looked down at Ruffnut, some of his general nervous demeanor melting away in favor of minor exhaustion at her relentless questioning, maybe catching on some, “There are some, but…”

Snotlout was off on the other side of the Hall. Be it far below him to serve. However, he’d lost a very minor bet so he had to go get you guys dinner for the next five weeks.

You weren’t quite sure where Ruffnut was. Busy, probably. 

You sighed, slightly rotating the mug you had in hand, slumping down on a nearby bench, giving the off-put Viking a rest. That wasn’t your intention, to put him off, anyways.

Tuffnut chuckled to himself, before dropping down on the opposite bench, cradling Macey over his shoulder.

Fishlegs stood watching you for a moment, before perking up slightly. 

You turned your attention away from him, choosing instead to lay your head over your arms on the table. You didn’t care to register anything past that, even as Fishlegs began silent conversation with a new party, someone you barely sensed joined him through the loud hustle and bustle of the hall.

It took a while, but eventually you heard a familiar holler, followed by an exhausted declarative, “Food’s here.”

You lifted your head genially to reveal Snotlout, with a set of four plates balanced on his arm, one balanced between the horns of his helmet. Ruffnut followed closely behind, laughing at him.

“Snotlout!” You cheered.

Ruffnut poked his middle, causing him to nearly fumble your food as he balanced angrily past moving gaggles of Vikings. 

“Hey!” He snapped, “Watch it!”

She cackled as a group of running children, followed by Gustav, nearly ran him over.

“Oh, wow,” Came a voice from your left, “Never thought I’d see him do that.”

Your head jerked to reveal Hiccup, standing above you, watching Snotlout with mild amusement, though there was something stiff about him which you thought was very well deserved.

“That’s for sure,” Said Astrid with casualty, revealing herself from behind a set of women carrying two full plates of chicken to one of the larger tables, where clans preferred to sit together.

You grimaced slightly and turned away, leaning back against the meal table behind you, elbows propped against wood. 

Then cringed as they eyed each other with mild apprehensiveness from opposite sides of the table, then rolled your eyes and scooted away slightly as you spotted Snotlout, who had finally made his way over, Ruffnut dropping a roll of thick, hastily carved spoons on the surface. 

You cringed as they clattered across wood, picking one up and rubbing it with your sleeve.  

“You have to get your own food,” Snotlout scoffed at the two plus Fishlegs as he finished unloading plates onto the table. 

“Thanks, Snot,” You batted your lashes at him falsely as he gagged, ignoring the odd, caught-off guard look from Hiccup as you glanced back.

You fought the urge to gnash your teeth at him.

“But…” Fishlegs started, staring at the plate that had once previously been on top of his head. But you knew he’d have no luck. As always, Snotlout managed to negotiate himself an extra bit of food on top of his already loaded plate.

You noticed, with glee, that your plate was loaded with a little extra stew than normal. Something Plegma usually only did for the Riders.

“Nice,” You said, somewhat pleased, lifting your brows slightly and grinning from ear-to-ear, slouching back further against the table before taking a small bite.

“Food could be better,” You said snippishly, as you nudged the stew around your bowl with a spoon, resting your mug against the table and tugging it towards you with your other hand.

“Ugh,” Ruffnut rolled her eyes.

“Stick-in-the-mud,” Snotlout agreed, though not with cheer, looking at Tuffnut with a sneer as he scratched himself in the armpit.

You blew a raspberry at them, before frowning.

Maybe you had been grumpy. 

You glared at Hiccup from the corner of your eye, a move that might look coy on someone else, though you personally just felt a little bit queasy, as if a horde of bugs had started buzzing up and down your intestines, angry as you.

What had happened- you weren’t sure it was even an argument -maybe it was- but you could have gotten over it, maybe. Going over it with Tuffnut, though, had broken something in you that you hadn’t realized you’d been building back up hanging out with one half of the Riders.

You sighed shakingly, as you finished another swallow, bringing your mug down genially. It settled on to the table by your side with a simple clack, before pushing off against the table, swinging your legs over the side.

You felt the tension in your chest release as you moved across the hall, not expecting anyone to follow.

You weaved through the throng of the Great Hall clumsily, though not without experience. One hand held your elbow, the other the handle on your mug.

Your goal was, of course, to refill your cup, though that also had the slight upside of taking you away from the Riders.

You’d gotten sick of watching them all talk together, and to be honest, you were feeling a little out of place.

People milled by, momentary, uninterested onlookers to your conversation, by the side of a lunch table; a sturdy, tall woman with red hair piled up into a huge knot, a man in a helmet with four horns knocking people aside with his elbows, large trays in hand.

A lady with a shawl passed by, covered in the skulls of small animals swept by, nearly knocking you in the head with a wooden tray, speaking loudly to someone on her other side.

Looking back, you couldn’t help thinking about how you would have loved this if you’d been just a few years younger.

Sure, you were only friends with a few of them, but-even if you weren’t at the forefront of the crowd, you always imagined you’d feel like the girl of the hour. Maybe it would have been better because of it. Sure, you were living on a small rock island in the middle of nowhere, constantly showered on by torrents of hellfire and bloodshed, but you had Hiccup.

The Riders were his dream, so being ditched felt like he was telling you to kick rocks. Like he wanted you to feel miserable. Deep down thought, you’d wanted his dream- You’d wanted to be there too.

You’d had Hiccup in those daydreams, those dreams within dreams, casual and there and real enough like goats milk on skin, like falling asleep with hands carding through your hair after a long day.

You were incensed. You wanted to cry and yell, but you also felt terrible. The feeling built high in your stomach.

You wondered if anyone else took notice. 

You had never quite spent time with all of the Riders at once, and were quite adverse to the idea. The more you thought about it, the more you were even less inclined to stay than before.

You paused at the brush of a palm over your shoulder, loose and without any sort of grip, yet feeling enough for you to take notice, stopping suddenly. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood. If you’d had hackles, they would have been raised.

“Hey, wait, where are you going?” It was a bit difficult to hear over the rabble, the crowd around you built up by voices much stronger than his or yours with personality and enthusiasm, yet you were able to make it out, a voice you knew by heart all the same.

Hiccup.

You turned and reached behind you, feeling the edge of a table bump into your rear. You leaned against it, racing your hand down slightly behind you to brace and dust over its surface.

The grain of the table was lumpy under your fingers yet smoothes by years of use and the grazing passes of many other hands.

“Why do you care?” You grumbled, arms falling loosely from their cross. You were nearly surprised when he heard you after.

“Why do I care?” Hiccup shook his head, “...What’s going on?”

You nearly missed the last bit, his voice nearly drowned out by the shout of someone two tables over. It was quite difficult to hold up an argument in the middle of a crowd, it seemed.

“Nothing,” You said, in lieu of an explanation, irritation spiking in your gut.

“It’s not.”

At that moment, the large arm of a blonde man nearly pushed him onto the table aside.

You fought down the urge to smile, looking down and feeling pretty malicious.

On the floor, you were greeted by a half-eaten leg of meat lay bitten into and discarded a few lengths away from you, a puddle of what was either stew or something you didn’t want to think about just further ahead.

You grimaced and scuffed a single loose boot toe into the Great Hall stone, annoyed, not surprised at all when it slid smoothly against the surface.

“What are you getting at?” You asked antagonistically. You felt stupid, dancing around him, mostly because you didn’t want to be talking to him at all. 

Was it arrogant for you to want to get away? Was this conversation penance, punishment for your earlier outburst?

You couldn’t help but wax poetically about it in your head.

“What am I-?” That seemed to do it -tick him off, that is.

“I can’t really read that mind of yours, genius.”

“Maybe if you stopped spending so much time with Snotlout-” Hiccup stepped forwards.

You snapped, gritting your teeth and stepping closer, feeling your nails dig into your palms through the fabric of your skirts, clutched in your hands,  “What’s your deal been?! I’m friends with Snotlout. What’s the big deal?!”

“I-...” He started, looking frustrated, though his eyes darted to the side slightly, “I just-”

“Gods,” You grit your jaw, bringing your hands to your head, not flinching when a few drops of mead spilled out the other end of your mug.

You didn’t show it, but you felt terrible. 

You hated the way his brows tilted, the momentary expression of grief on his face- yet you just wanted him to leave you alone.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

The Jealous One pt 7

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 2,207

The road to forgiveness gets just a little less rocky

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

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You scowled sourly, upturning a bucket of water over the side of a blown open roof, your arms relaxing by a slight bit as the water’s weight left you.

Your head pounded, your thoughts muddled, your drinking from the previous day lingering.

Agnarr, the bald idiot, had tried to mess with a Scauldron and had the top half of his hut blown off completely and filled with water and of course you’d been dragged along with Snotlout to fix it.

You hoped his home rotted away.

Said Jorgenson had wanted you to un-boil the water, which wasn’t possible.

You wondered how he’d feel if you upchucked over his head or dropped a full bucket of

the steaming water from on top of Hookfangs back, the red-orange dragon just as sour as you.

“You sure you don’t have a dragon?” Snotlout was on top of a platform just below you made of stacked furniture and crates, helping hand you buckets as you scooped the water out pale by pale- of course, the floor of his hut was dug slightly below ground level so there was no way for the water to drain out naturally. “Can't believe I have to do this with you.”

“What if I just took yours?” You snipped as his dragon shifted below your feet, “Hookfang likes me better anyways.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Snotlout scoffed, blustering. “You love me. Right, Hookie?”

Said dragon snorted derisively, steam blowing out his nose as he shifted his front claws minimally under the water. It wasn’t nearly deep enough to be any cause for concern later, at least not when it came to Hookfang, but his feet would be dry later and it would take a lot of oil and living to get the leather under his scales to stop flaking again.

You weren’t going to help Snotlout with it this time.

“Right? Right, Hookfang?” Snotlout kept trying, furrowing his brows and standing confidently even as his small tower shifted under him.

“I think that’s a ‘no,’” You tossed your bucket down at the boy, his stocky shoulders shifting as he caught it and bent down to scoop up another pail or water, the bottom of it scraping unpleasantly against the covered stone floor.

You wrinkled your nose unpleasantly, the smell of muck fouling your nostrils. 

You hadn’t spotted any algae but there probably was some- Agnarr had left his hut flooded for much too long, sleeping on his bed frame out in the paths. 

You hoped spitefully that his walls would begin to rot.

“Tuffnut owes me so much money.” Your head snapped to the side, at the entrance of the hut where Ruffnut stood, chuckling deep in her throat and leaning against a cracked open door frame, your head twinging as you jerked, causing you to wince. “By the way, Hiccup’s flying over.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” You snapped as you cradled your head.

 “He’s been so,” She dragged out the ‘so,’ “-Moody lately. You two almost match” She nodded towards you, wrinkling her nose and sticking out her tongue slightly, mocking. 

You scowled at her, cradling your head. You adjusted your footing on Hookfang, that slimy dragon- “Where is that idiot brother of yours, anyways?”

Below, Snotlout hoisted up another bucket on dark, sloshing water, both the smell and sight of which, stinking, mesmerizing and dark, nearly made you sick.

You grabbed into the bucket with a grit jaw, your elbows straining as you turned the bucket over the side, unfortunately neglecting to keep a steady hand along the rim.

You felt it fall over the side, and you nearly cursed, your hands still held in the air.

You shut your eyes so tightly it hurt, head ringing painfully, fighting off entropy and what you were sure was a hangover-induced whistling in your ear.

Ruffnut ignored every single word you had spoken and every single one of the metaphorical storm clouds congealing over your head, “He should be here in just about-”

You turned your head to her and made to say something nasty before you felt something grasp your hands, roughly tugging you into the air.

You cursed violently, the last thing you saw being the ungainly laughing of Ruffnut as you were pulled into the air.

You stumbled to your feet, trying to gather your wits as you’d been dropped from the sky, screaming and shouting.

You stiffened up quickly as you met windswept hair, Hiccup wringing his hands in front of you.

He was stationed in front of a blanket and a basket with two healthy loaves of bread inside, grass forming lumps under cloth. 

Behind that was a set of cliffs overlooking the forest on one side of Berk.

You studied Hiccup’s face incredulously, his lips pursed and eyes angled away from you, drying to discern what the point of all this was. Was this another apology?

The lowering sun was nearly burning on your face, burned by the wind, brought on by the haste of the dragon shuffling behind you.

You’d no need for any of that since you and Hiccup had spent your younger years goading other Vikings on top of cliff tops where they couldn’t hear you, sharing snide, niche jokes between each other, something which you’d both seemed to grow out of since the Red Death’s fall.

“What-” You started, stiff shoulders and balled fists loosening as the shifting of the trees around you grew to be too much, blurring the scene around you and causing your stomach to feel as if it was being pressed against from all sides.

You didn’t so much as feel the world tilt as you stepped forwards.

You woke up tucked into your bed, wondering what in the world had happened to you, ready to share some violent words with Hiccup, only to be met with an empty room and a bucket sat against your floor along with a mug of what was hopefully water on your bedside table and a crumpled piece of parchment under with a neat ‘sorry’ scrawled into clumsy writing.

Besides that, the front piece slightly damaged by a ring of water from the bottom of your cup, lay copies of papers that had clearly been compiled by Fishlegs in Hiccup’s handwriting and a small bird’s skull settled on top of it, not unlike one of the many metal copies you’d seen pinned to Astrid’s skirt.

You recognized some of the contents, leaning over your elbow and holding the handle of the mug in one startled hand.

It was nearly kind of him, and the sentiment reminded you of the puppy eyes you’d only seen on the dragon you’d been replaced by.

You scowled as your stomach lurched, gritting your leath and wiping away the confused furrow-browed look that had lain across your face as you stared at the mug and papers.

 You were slightly bitter he didn’t have the gall to apologize to your face the same way he had the gall to do most other things, none of which he was usually allowed.

You snuffled miserably.

You were not recovered enough to recoup the absentminded happiness you craved and that you’d thrown on, attending to your new friends, or maybe the doe-eyed honeymoon phase of your friendship with the other was over, though you still liked them plenty.

The flight must have stressed you out some and so now, you felt more exhausted than anything, glaring at Hiccup with a wary eye.

He’d always been stupid, but he’d never done anything stupid to you… not until then. 

“I-“ Hiccup said, nervously holding his hands out in front of him.

“Save it.” You grumbled, your voice dragging, your throat scratchy, and you irritated that you’d been shunted along on a quest not with the Ruffnut, Snotlout or even Tuffnut, but with Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III.

“...Alright.” Hiccup said concedingly, “We can head up to Gothi if you’re not feeling well-?”

“I said to save it.” You snapped again, wishing the others hadn’t ditched you for taking too long to get up, though you’d done the same to Tuffnut a while back so it was your rightful comeuppance. 

The two of you broke out from the treeline promptly, the ground shifting from thick mulch, leaves and spots of underbrush to a more open short, grassy patch just before the edge of a cliff, one which you knew crested slightly over a small field and some forest- what you were looking for -the herbs- should have been around somewhere.

You wondered why Hiccup hadn’t just flown over with Toothless- but then again, plants were delicate and it was hard enough to carry a basket over the back of a dragon.

“...This is a nice spot, isn’t it?” Hiccup asked, after a pause, “It’s… Nostalgic.”

You sighed, moving closer to the edge of it, the hairs on the back of your neck settling as you’d taken your distance.

You knew exactly what he was talking about- all the time spent wandering and speaking and writing words that were mostly good, hunts for bones and tussles in shallow streams and the kicking up of water and silt from simple riverbeds all near the other side of the island.

“What, you miss loitering around with me? Poking fun at the others?” Another time, you might have wanted to shout wild noises and storm off in a way you knew would leave one very harassed-looking heir left standing behind you, but you held off. You hadn’t the energy or the drive.

Hiccup paused, looking to the side as if he wasn’t all there. “I guess… I guess maybe I do.”

You also wanted to roll your eyes, sitting down on the very top of the cliff, your basket forgotten as you stared down at the grasses below, turning your attention exhaustively away from Hiccup and that stupid fond look on his face.

You grazed over the bits below, at the few slim forms of what must have been the others, Snotlout and the Twins, punching around with each other, Fishlegs, for some odd reason, standing along the sidelines.

They seemed to dance from this distance, and it reminded you of what you’d done just a while ago in the sliver of time in which you’d been friendless. 

There was a place on one side of the island where you often sat along the ledge, booted toes hanging over the ledge, one arm wrapped around your legs, knees pulled up to your chin as you threw scraps of fish down the small canyon. The space in front of you was always bare both above and below. That part of the island was a hard, plantless quarry made of boulders and crevasses. It was just near the same place you’d met your dragon before.

In the current moment, someone who you assumed was Snotlout threw a large bouquet of what look like weeds towards Ruffnut

You hummed, content and discontent in different ways, imagining you were staring down at that canyon instead, full of young dragons preening, prodding and resting in the sun.

Sometimes you wondered why you held off so long in getting a dragon of your own. Maybe you hoped that Hiccup would find you one, the same way he did all his new friends, who he found to be very cool and important despite all the time he spent reassuring you that he didn’t.

But, as you found, you really didn’t need one. Hiccup, you weren’t so sure. He wasn’t upset, but as you were figuring out, you weren't quite sure how to read him anymore. The idea ceased to be novel- now you just didn’t have any interest.

“Is that… Snotlout?” Hiccup asked, settling down a good distance beside you.

You listened to the subtle chirping of bugs as they danced around under the waning sun, watched the gentle glide of wings as a few began to bravely venture closer to the two of you.

“...I’m not sure,” You noted, feeling quite melancholy as Snotlout tried again and held out a handful of crumpled, wilted flowers to a very cross Ruffnut below, “I’m sort of rooting for him.”

Now more than ever you felt the tiredness weighing down your lids.

You’d considered using kohl for a time to cover up the dark bags under your eyes, which you’d seen in your reflection over a pale of water just that morning.

You weren’t sure they knew you were up there, yet. If things went the way you wanted, they wouldn’t know at all.

“Eh,” Hiccup said, “I hope Fishlegs wins her over.”

You glanced at Hiccup out of the corner of your eye.

He might look nice with some, spread by a lightly padding finger just under his eyes, but you knew he would never let you close with any, not in this lifetime.

You felt that you should invest in a mirror- what was it that the Romans were using, now? Wasn’t it polished bronze? You wanted one of those.

You scoffed, feeling tart, though you felt even consciously through the growing stuff of your head and your nose that the simmering upset that had colored your actions earlier had slightly abated, “Of course you do.”

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

The Jealous One pt 4

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1515

Hiccup is passive aggressive. You’re mad. He doesn’t do anything about it (yet).

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

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“I don’t think Snotlout realizes he can like Ruffnut yet, but Fishlegs definitely likes Ruffnut,” You said confidently, pulling up pond weeds with your hands.

Your trousers were rolled up to your ankles, one side of your skirt tucked into your waistband as your toes dug into the silt close to the shore.

Hiccup was beside you, wading in a similar fashion, although it was a bit difficult to hike up both his pantslegs when one was otherwise occupied with his prosthetic. 

The trees were incredibly tall around you, enough to block out all light around the pond. Just a few beams filtered through the topmost leaves, filling the forest floor with a heady yellow glow, mites and other things filtering through them, dancing like fairies to a tune only they knew, lighting up the dark waters.

Behind you was an old, abandoned dock, small and molded and falling apart, and besides that, a bucket which you used to toss aside weeds. 

Indeed, you were deep, deep in the forests around Berk, where only mystical and mysterious things ever seemed to happen.

“Really-?” Hiccup asked, voice high as his spirits seemed to be, “There’s a large one to your left.” 

He indicated with a nod as you glanced over towards him, once again dipping your arms with your rolled-up sleeves into the water, sifting around until you found what he was motioning towards. 

A long, dark-green frond of something which pulled easily from the mix below.

“...Is this what you and Fishlegs were talking about before?” You asked, also noticeably, to yourself, a lot less gloomy. You too had been feeling high of spirits, enough to make you feel as if you had broken your old moping patterns, “The weeds.”

It was a pleasant surprise, when Hiccup had come to you asking for help picking weeds from the water.

You wondered which plant was the subject of his interest or his ire now? What plant had the dragons been interacting with this time, to pull his attention? Was it the Rush, or the Pendula? Maybe another plant, one that ended up being from the forest floor instead? 

You felt bad still, for not meeting him by the Great Hall.

You knew he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them, the same way he thought most skulls looked the same.

“Not really?” Hiccup tried, rubbing his hand down his shirt before ruffling the hair at the back of his own head as he tossed a long bunch of wet weeds back, the water sloshing around his ankles, artificial and otherwise, “Not specifically.”

“Specifically?” You took a moment to stare at him with your eyebrow raised.

“Barf and Belch.”

You hummed casually, though you had your ears perked.

You didn’t care at all to keep track of the Twins’ dragons so this was news to you.

“Belch hasn’t been able to fly straight with his other head in a while. Not always, but they’ve been sneaking off to who-knows-where. In short, we think he’s hallucinating. He had… Something, in his teeth. He was hanging around the water the last time- he was dripping wet. Not salt water. Tuffnut… tested that.”

You winced at the mention, “-So you think whatever it was that caused him to act stupid’s been floating around in one of these ponds.”

“Right,” Hiccup nodded.

“Sounds easy enough,” You nodded in return.

“Yeah, so…” Hiccup tried, half-joking in a way that made the invisible hairs on your back prickle, alert, “I’ve been… Meaning to ask. What’s been going on with you and Snotlout? And the others? I’m pretty sure the Jorgensons are getting ready for the two of you to get married.”

“I’d hope not,” You rolled your eyes at him wearily, beginning the slow slog back to the docks behind you, legs pushing through murky water. You were half afraid it would end up making you sick, “I wouldn’t marry him.”

Really, though, why did he care?

“So… You’re not interested in him?”

“Never,” You scoffed, “Not in a million years.”

You were glad that he wasn’t angry- he didn’t seem it, anyways, not at you for accidentally ditching him… if he remembered anything about your plans at all. You didn’t want to bring it up in case he did and that reminded him of anything, pulling up memories like a sharp tripwire. Some things were better off just left unspoken.

You still felt bad, though.

He finally sat down to pull up his own prosthetic, tugging aside the soggy pants leg just above, stitched to cover his stump like a sock.

“Well, that’s not what everyone else thinks,” He said as he turned away, moving continuously with a certain lilt to his voice that made it sound sort of final.

Tuffnut and Snotlout and Ruffnut usually said the same in a voice that seemed more sing-song, though you were certain Hiccup couldn’t ever hold that sort of tone without it sounding weird, or out of place.

“What are you getting at?” You sniped, stomach dropping, “Are you feeling fine? You’re not mad, are you? About before?”

Hiccup’s shoulder’s seemed to jump, nose wrinkling as he grimaced.

“Yup, great… You left me behind, remember,” Hiccup said sarcastically, drily, “So, you know, I’m feeling so warm and fuzzy and loved. So, how are you, by the way? I never really got an explanation for that.”

You grimaced, resisting the urge to bristle at that, knowing in half that he was just baiting you. 

You finished pulling up your boot, stuffing your pants leg into the fur lining, feeling incredulous.

You finally understood what it meant for the others, when they said they were annoyed by Hiccup. His sarcasm didn’t seem so funny when you were on the other end of it.

Now you just felt bitter and annoyed.

Pot-kettle. 

Well, if he wanted something to scoff at then he’d get something to scoff at.

“Oh, thank you,” You nodded sarcastically, hand braced against your knee, in an action that was more Astrid-like than you would have preferred it to be, “I’m great.”

Hiccup scoffed again, and you felt another spike of irritation in your chest that you weren’t inclined to smother.

Instead, you yanked on the handle of the bucket, tugging it upwards and nearly wrenching your arm with the force of it, and the weight of the bucket, made heavier by the plants and water inside, and dumped it over his head.

“I-uh, ah-ha!” His voice started normal but hitting a higher nasal as it peaked, the contents of the bucket dumping over his face and pasting his hair to his cheeks, water-darkened and tangled with pond plants.

Hiccup stopped for a second, choking on his spit, looking at you incredulously, astonished and definitely upset. 

How things could have gone so sour so fast was lost on you.

You glared at him, “Having fun picking that up all on your own.”

Then you marched off, kicking back through the undergrowth as you made it your mission to get as far away as possible.

“You messed up, dude,” Tuffnut spoke with faux wisdom, with words supposed to trigger something in you like you cared at all what he thought, or agreed that somehow in some way he might have known better.

Twins had a certain air about them. They took themselves more seriously than anything else, a level of self-involvement that made it seem like their words had merit whenever they said things of the soul-searching. Most people put their advice above all others, some even vyed it, not that the Twins would ever help anyone on purpose.

You thought they were just stupid.

You’d long since ceased to be fond of it.

It was obvious he had no idea what he was talking about, and it just made you mad.

You missed when you were miserable, because it made everything else feel duller.

“Yeah, well, how do you think I felt?” You asked, incensed, “After he spent all that time blowing me off to hang out with you guys?”

You shouted frustratedly, a nonsensical thing, as you grabbed at the air.

“It was well something well deserved and if he can’t pull his head out of his- if he can’t pull your helmet horns out of his ass long enough to see it then I don’t need it-! You-! Him. The whole lot of you!” You snarked, feeling incredibly hostile as you marched off for the second time that day.

Hiccup stood, rubbing his chin with his hand, leaning against the wooden side of a hut feeling slightly stressed.

He’d… Overheard your shouting.

You’d seemed fine, but then again, your fine was kind of… not. He thought you’d have found someone else to hang out with. 

It hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal at the time. He’d always talked about wanting to be friends with the others, and you’d never said anything against it. You hadn’t. But he got it now. The shoe was on the other… prosthetic.

It was all karma.

He really did mess up, didn’t he?

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

hiii i just wanted to say i really like how each of the protags in your fics have different personalities!!! adds a lot of flavour and depth i think to how hiccup interacts with each version of reader in different contexts :)

 The Jealous One pt 6

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1,964

You’re caught off guard in the woods. Hiccup might have a thing for rejection… Or you. He’s really not sure. 

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

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You wanted to kick as you braced your foot against a rock, pulling your cup up to your face again, shoulders pressing painfully into the bark of a tree, curved so that the center of your shoulder blades felt as if they were being dug into by two very thick thumbs.

You wanted to say that you were getting good at keeping it all stuffed inside -your emotions, as it were, not necessarily your lunch- but if you’d been good at that, you wouldn’t be here dealing with this with a large, leaking barrel of stolen mead. Day drinking.

Though you hadn’t participated, soon after you’d left your table, a fight in the hall had broken out and taken a lot out of you, having devolved into a full-on brawl that the majority of the Riders hadn’t been too pressed to join in on.

By the end, you were sure most of the busy folk, the ones who hadn’t been knocked out, had left, most of the Riders had either fallen asleep or had drunken themselves into a stupor and the more studious ones, being Astrid and Fishlegs, had already long made of in the night either to chase off another poor Viking with a sharpened axe and clenched muscles or to hide and cower until the night had been done.

For you, the distraction had made it much easier to make off with a barrel of mead, and you’d dragged it, half bent over, into the woods, arms straining at the heavy weight.

And just in time, too. It was usually after the first fight that the mead-ladies and cup-bearers always began to charge coin for each pint.

Your arms were so sore. But it was worth it.

You weren’t too far off from the bridge separating you from Berks main village, you and your tapped barrel hiding somewhere off in the trees just after the foliage began to grow thicker, so even now, from a distance, you could hear the stormy rocking of the ocean against Berk’s sturdy shores.

You shook off a light buzz as the sound of crunching leaves grew louder, louder than what was appropriate between the mingling of tiny forest creatures, in which case you meant the Terrors scrabbling through the trees as there weren’t so many woodland creatures close to Berk’s main village.

You rested the bottom of your mug on one of your knees, your legs spread apart so that you could lean forwards whenever you wanted to fill your jug, thinking slowly and taking the time to try and listen harder.

You wanted to groan, then. Many different vikings on Berk with prosthetics, peg legs and the like but what you’d figured for sure was an approach came packaged with the slight spring of metal against metal, which you knew could only belong to one Viking.

You debated trying to hide the evidence of your night spent out alone in the cold dangers of the woods but decided against it, instead pushing yourself up, palms against cold bark, the divets between strips pressing imprints into your palm.

You didn’t give yourself much time to loiters, legs placed slightly farther apart than what was comfortable as you stumbled, dropping your mug against wood roots and grass and upturned dirt with a clatter just as a familiar face made its way past the treeline.

You resisted the urge to grumble, nearly stumbling over a shallow tree root as you brushed past him, your shoulder checking his in your distraction.

“Where…” Hiccup asked, stopping slowly behind you, now shivering himself, the head of his hair wild and on end, “Where are you going?”

You were slightly drowsy, the hands on your arms working overtime in an effort to scrub away the cold. The wind did a great deal to help, brushing through your skirts as you made your way down towards flat ground.

“...To bed,” You mumbled, eyes nearly closed, buzzing with your sudden need to sleep and the weightful urge to drop, all the muscles in your lid looser than they’d be if you had any control over your own body.

You blinked sourly into the canopy of pine above you, the light glaring brightly through the spindly leaves against trees.

You didn’t keep time, not particularly concerned as early early morning turned to brighter still early morning. 

You sighed, more a breath than a chirr, blinking groggily, turning in half as Hiccup moved to catch up with you, at a steady pace yet not fast enough to be called anything but a strong walk.

You stood on a small, flat rock, poking out of the ground like a tiny boat in the middle of a storming, wide ocean of grass, trees and shrubs, mimicking still, titanic waves all around you.

A Terror called out in the distance and a wind rushed past, nearly causing you to slip.

“Wait-”

You jerked as you felt the feel of hands grabbing onto either side of your upper arms, craning your neck awkwardly to face the one who held you aloft as your tilt neared the diagonal.

You grunted lightly, shaking him off with slow movement, burdened by many things and turned to face him.

The way he stood was easy, compared to you who was subtly off kilter, swaying with the breezes.

“I… I was a poor sport,” Hiccup said finally, voice thick with tension, reaching out for you in tone and hand; you felt a gentle tug on your tunic sleeve, the brush of a callous against the soft skin on the inside of your wrist.

He didn’t need to explain any more.

He was eager to apologize.

“Right,” You said, as your stomach dropped again, the beginnings of guilt prickling its way up the lining of your stomach like the sharp sprout of a plant bursting through thin soil.

He seemed much more awake than you, but the faded bags under his eyes implied he might not have slept as much as he’d… Liked to have implied, most likely.

A while ago, you would have forgiven him instantaneously. Now, you realized you didn’t feel that pull, the need to wait and languish. You still stewed, but it wasn’t with that simmering loneliness fueled desperation lying underneath a wave of discomfort.

It was a bit of a relief.

“I shouldn’t have...”

That wasn’t. It was awful.

You wondered how many times you could reject him before it became unreasonable.

You didn’t know what you wanted to say, but you knew he got it all wrong. You hoped he felt regret, though.

“You said things just fine,” You grumbled, shaking him off and letting your arms loosen, “I don’t care.”

He hadn’t been so insecure about his cousin since you were younger teens. You didn’t like him enough at the moment to try and find out why.

“And I’ve been thinking-” Hiccup continued anyways, grumbling slightly, “and I really- maybe I deserve it.”

“Right,” You said shortly, though not short enough to really imply that you’d been holding a grudge, still intent on leaving, feet shifting. The two of you were on the same step, practically standing toe-to-toe. 

Of course you still held a grudge. Or, maybe grudge wasn’t the right word. Grudges were for things that were old, that had been long since made up for and pushed under the rug, then brought out and dusted off and looked over at night when secrets were best kept.

You’d had half a mind to let it pass. Not because you wanted to be the better person- no, because ‘letting it go’ didn’t always mean being the better person, not when you were still so upset, anger lying like a poised snake in your stomach, but because you wanted him to squirm.

To think about it just as much as you’d had to.

In this instance, however, you didn’t particularly think that holding to your anguish made you a worse person. It made you a wronged person, for sure.

You remembered how you woke up early to see him, to be the one to say ‘hi’ first. How he’d greet you, then how he wasn’t there. And again and again and again you checked, your heart soaring each time, only to be left sorely disappointed.

 It was silly. And selfish. And something only someone a few years younger could do- keep their hopes up so innocently high and without any real expectation only to be disappointed each and every time by a result that through pattern they must have known to be sure. 

You grumbled, shaking him off and turning to leave anyway. “Fine. Save your apologies.”

“-No, you’re right.” Hiccup folded quickly, “I-What?”

Of course, it would be just like him not to see your worth. 

“...You haven’t paid this much attention to me since we were kids.” Seriously, why? You said sternly, pushing past the slogging fog clouding your mind.

“What?” Hiccup paused.

“Of course,” You scoffed, stepping your way off the rock and kicking your way past a large pile of leaves.

As you stalked- or, stumbled, more like- out the treeline and up to the wooden planking lining the wide floor of the huge bridge leading back to Berk, dark boots dirty and scuffling loudly against the wood, Hiccup watched you.

Hiccup watched you and he paused with mounting horror as his eyes followed you, whose long gray skirt was falling down to your ankles.

At this point, you’d refused two of his apologies, both times with a gloomy, stormy expression on your face, shoulders hunched and miserable.

You had asked him why.

And, well, there was a reason why. 

He was a bad friend.

Deep envy, spiked as thorns in chest twisted as a friend of his became the friend of another, attention that had been allotted for him lost like spare coin. As what he knew to be a feeling or certainty became pangs of hurt when you became someone he couldn’t any longer recognize, fast speech becoming a slow, morbid, familiar prose becoming, dare he say it, ribbing.

Even now, he wanted to keep it up leave still, to escape off into the sky with the other riders in an effort to keep running away in part from a feeling he couldn’t name, a thing that grew and writhed as he realized that he’d mistaken the value of one friend for a group of a few others when he really should have made an effort to have kept all of his sheep in line.

It was a feeling that was familiar but that he hadn’t paid much mind to, even as he’d grown more distant from you, even as his eyes began to linger and as his heart pounded and eyes widened. 

It had become unavoidable now, especially after you’d fallen over him, looking wonderful and fine and shining with the sun pressing into your back and glinting around your head like a crown made for you by the very Gods.

It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since… He was a teen, when he had been very much into... -But, it was slightly different; a little bit of want-to-see mixed with a heaping pile of desire-to-impress mixed with something a little bit more like ‘I-know-you,’ which, in hindsight, had always been there, at least for a while though it was a slight weaker now and had not always paired so brightly with the previous two.

And all of it was twinged by something else, wrapped up in a twisting, bitter, covetous cage, locked and keyed by a budding, intense resentment for his cousin.

Even in your drunken state you were so, so pretty. And now you were mad at him. 

He had to wonder how he always got himself into these situations.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

 The Jealous One pt 8

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1,862

In sickness and in health.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

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You resisted the urge to cough violently, a tickling in your chest and that one mysterious, feather light spot in your throat

Your voice was nearly as nasal as Hiccup's and three times as raspy as anything you’d ever heard.

Basket held steady, you walked waveringly across the bridge from the forest to Berk.

It had taken a while to find what you needed, the plants hidden and the energy you’d spent searching had done little to calm your raw nerves.

The walk back had been long and now could taste mucus on your tongue and feel it thicken your throat, your sleeve coming up to rub at it and your nose once every few moments. It was nearly soaked, now, and the thought filled you with disgust.

You refused to believe it was sickness, even as you sensed hints of it along your breath and felt the bite of it marring the roof of your mouth.

You scowled grumpily just before you lost the battle, stumbling to a stop, your chest wrought with a brutal hacking.

Hiccup, a few steps ahead of you, looked back with concern, standing at the place where the bridge ended and wood met stone, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Urgh,” You groaned, realizing with dull irritation that you couldn’t breathe through your nose any longer.

You made it a few more feet, brushing in front of Hiccup, your aching walk-tired ankles and worn soles protesting the movement before you sniffed roughly and leaned -nearly collapsed- against the the one of one of the huts built into the side of the village’s spire.

While you were still standing, Hiccup walked easily up to you and lightly pulled your basket out of your hands, ignoring your sour, wordless grumbling, “How about I just… Take this, and you go lay down?”

You slumped against the floor, too weak to protest and figuring then that it would be as good a time as any to take a break, even if it was just a short one- You were realizing slowly that you would be needing it if you were going to make the walk back to  your cabin.

You vaguely registered as Hiccup spoke again, a semi-sarcastic, “...That’s fine too.” easily leaving his mouth.

You heard a steady beating which you hoped meant that he was finally going to just leave you be, a sentiment made stronger by just the pure force of your miserable sickness.

You laid your head against the side of the wall hut, your knees up to your chest, blinking slowly and feeling fully feverish. It shouldn’t be terrible if you took a short nap, should it?

You woke up groaning nearly imperceptible, your breaths heavy and the pounding of your heart strong, with the feel of something heavy and hot on your forehead.

You felt slick with what was sweat, as you’d realized, after a nearly unbearable moment, shifting, unable to tell which direction was up or down by feeling even as your eyes fluttered slightly open to start at high wood roofing.

Everything was stuffy and heavy and you couldn’t make sense of anything, even as you turned your head to the side slightly, something you regretted as it sent an ache down your neck.

You felt something adjust the towel on your forehead, each fiber brushing against your heated skin, mournfully cold where it was absent even as you looked to the side with pained eyes, meeting the worn, tired face of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III.

He was sitting on something wherever you were, obscured to you by your own weary, blurring vision, leaning on his knee with one arm and forwards towards you with his other.

As your vision faded further, you made a small noise in the back of your throat.

You were woken the second time by the feel of cold wood to your lips and something cooler peeking over its edge, wetting your lips and dry tongue.

Unnatural chills ran up and down your spine, the feeling of the air around seeming much too muggy for the wracking, sharp jabs running down your spine, feeling more raw than cold.

“Hey-” You heard a low voice, “Can you manage?”

It was stiff under you, what was maybe bedding or something else unliving and yet kind enough to hold you.

You knew not of what was dream and what was reality.

You closed your eyes again, unable to discern the difference between mumbled words and blurred sounds without thought and lacking the energy to try, everything around and under you feeling stuffed.

However, you did feel the distance- the absence of presence and the air circulating in unwelcome empty space.

You grabbed on to the corner of a sleeve, your arm thrown out limply. It nearly caused you to fall off the end of the bed, your opposite shoulder resting precariously against its edge with your arm folded under.

It was warmer up in the Chief’s hut- more so than any other spot on Berk besides maybe Gothi’s on the hottest sumarr's day and though colder than most, your friend always had been of unusually strong health despite being what he was- a Hiccup.

“Please…” You mumbled waveringly, unwilling to be left without that presence, nothing else existing in your mind at that moment, “Please stay.”

You didn’t know if it was real and you wouldn’t be sure later if you remembered though you were sure you wouldn’t.

You fell asleep to the feel of you being pushed further back onto the bed and to the feel of something heavy and covered in fabric scooting in behind you.

“-Ouch.” Hiccup sat guiltily upon his father’s chair, one hand on his knee, legs spread wide as he bent down to pick up a fallen plate from the floor.

“You’ve heard worse,” You snuffled thickly, shoving aside thoughts of not-reals and a lot of wishful thinking, “You’re lucky I’m not Astrid.”

You couldn’t come up with any other conclusion than the one that described a collusion between all three; you carried some of the chill from your night out drinking in the woods with you, then the unwilling ride in Toothless’ claws and the walk up into the hills and cliffs you’d spent had all come together and worsened everything until you’d ended up with the same sickness that described your current state.

Somehow, though, you felt in good humor, or perhaps it was regular humor. It didn’t matter, though. You didn’t feel particularly pleased or disheartened.

“I guess so,” You could feel his wince more than you saw it, looking at him from across the fire pit in his hut.

You were surprised that you’d been able to strike up conversation as easily as you had, about life and other things though not so in depth as to paint any real picture at all. You hadn’t brought up Snotlout or the Twins -not yet- though you felt that it was coming soon and it would cause at least some mild upset when and if it did.

There was a question that had been lingering on your mind for very obvious reasons, ones you still wished not to think in such plain terms, even if you knew them well. 

You hadn’t been on good enough terms for a while to ask, annoyed as you had been as of late, nor calm enough in manner when you were younger to ask without feeding into the irritating pressure behind your eyes. However, sick though you were, with your stuffy head, nose and everything and your barely honey-soothed throat, you were sure enough to ask.

“So… What’s up with you and Astrid?” You asked Hiccup bluntly, burying your chin further into your wrap of cocoons, feeling your top lids droop heavily over your eyes with your contentment. 

Hiccup cringed. You felt a measure of glee at his poor expression- it was the same look he worn, albeit less mournful, when you’d woken up earlier in that afternoon and asked him what had become of you, memoryless and unaware of how you’d found yourself in his bed on his loft and in his nearly empty home.

“She is not my girlfriend.” He spoke firmly, as if he already knew what you were going to ask next -as if he’d had to fend the jab off more than once- and he had, from you, something which you only used to prod at him when you were feeling exceptionally bitter but hadn’t the means or want to show it.

“Your ex, then?” You deadpanned nearly teasingly, “Or your battle buddy? In the simple platonic Viking sense.”

“Not even that.” Hiccup shrugged, looking at you unimpressively, “I-we just… didn’t click.”

You were thrown off guard slightly, though not thrown enough to deter you from anything. It was the first time he’d answered you and answered you truly- the reaction he’d posed and the one you’d usually been fishing for involved deflection if not mild indignation. 

“Yeah?” You asked, shaking your head. It took you a moment to cough out the vowel, your voice cracking in an ungainly way.

You watched the odd contrast of shadow and light flicker across his face, both pronouncing and denouncing the lay of his cheekbones, the round of his cheeks.

You allowed yourself to enjoy the sight before you grew mad with him again, letting out a breath and leaning back slightly against pillows and plush, feeling terribly insightful and artisting as you took him in.

“I guess… She was worried you liked me. In the complicated non-platonic sense.”

You laughed lowly, as if you couldn’t escape the hilarity of it all, “Really?”

Oh, you probably owed her an apology. A terrible one. 

You suppressed a shiver, letting out a shaky breath. The part of the blanket covering your neck fell slightly, stale, cold air hitting your back and rushing down your spine. 

“… Did you?”

You shrugged, looking down and pursing your lips, watching the firelight flicker gently, swaying with the wind, crackling hypnotically in the space between the two of you.

You risked a glance towards Hiccup in an attempt to glean what he was thinking. 

He seemed unsure. That’s all you could tell, all his brows, his jaw, the standard set of his shoulders gave away. The rest, you couldn’t tell.

For all the time he’d left you hanging and wanting and nearly yearning, you were sure that the answer you owed him was surely unkind, and the one you owed yourself was the one that spared you as much embarrassment as possible, having spent as much time stuck in such a terrible one-sided love as you had. 

“Why would I?” You asked eventually, and you really meant it.

“You’re well, then.” Hiccup said, standing at his open door.

“I am well,” You looked down onto the floor, nearly rolling up and down on your toes, feeling quite empty with your affects wrapped up into a small bundle. It was one you held in your two hands by a leather strap. “Goodbye, then.” 

As you left, you could almost imagine the soft whisper of another ‘goodbye’ following behind you on the wind.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

The Jealous One pt 10

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,344

You really don’t know how to make bread. Hiccup doesn't know how, either.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE, unedited

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Oh hel.

You stared down at the crumpled and half-covered plants by your feet sitting just at the base of a sheer rock wall, grimacing deeply at the wilted stems and leaves. Not a single sprout looked at all viable.

You bemoaned the thought that it might have been your fault that they ended up in such a manner- mud fights weren’t exactly conducive to healthy plants, nor were mudslides, which happened on Berk with a higher frequency than you thought they should, and the way it looked, the plants had been picked much too thin to make any kind of recovery- under normal circumstances, they should have been able to avoid any measurable damage- one or two mudballs, especially, but they looked sort of miserable, actually.

You wondered who had been picking them dry.

You sighed, feeling the full force of the sun on your back. You were sure you’d have to take responsibility, though you’d love if not another soul knew about your involvement. You could try and fix it up on your own, but-

You processed the vague sound of crunching mud- and after being so suddenly pulled from your musings, you nearly startled. 

There went that idea.

You looked to your side with wide, uncomfortable eyes to greet another pair of slumped shoulders and startled eyes.

There stood Hiccup in his casual clothes, old green tunic pulled from what was most likely a deep crevasse in the piles of his room’s junk hidden under his work desk and his bed.

“I, ah-” Hiccup started, his voice slightly more nasal than usual, “Had nothing to do with that.”

You grimaced harder, turning fully to face him.

“I think I’ve been- I’ve been picking them dry.” Hiccup said, shuffling to match you, his palm grazing his elbow before coming up to brush the hair on his forehead, running it down the back of his head until it nearly reached his neck,  “My leg- It gets worse when I’m, ah- …”

You glowered at him as he dropped his arm. You hoped your eyes were conveying your displeasure- culprit.

“It’s not exactly… Comfortable.”

He started shuffling and winced. 

 You could see the point at which he considered shifting again but decided better of it.

“You need to add more padding.” You said, brows furrowed evenly.

You knew he already had some padding in his pant leg, sewn to fit his stub, but you’d always thought he might need more in the socket of his prosthetic. You’d never said anything aloud, though- he, like you, could be quite stubborn and blind, especially when he was proud, which he was very often when it came to the things he’d built.

His original prosthetic was made by Gobber, though it was inspired heavily by Hiccup, which was something to be proud of, and Hiccup had had a hand in its care, of course, and had plans to add a few tweaks of his own.

“You think?” Hiccup asked sarcastically, looking at you with a grimace of his own. “I don’t think I’ll be able to carve in enough of a bed to keep any real padding- It’s going to shatter on me the next time I take a knife to it.”

“Yes.” You said, hoping he got blisters.

A brown-haired woman stormed past the porch on which you stood, wooden steps before you, rant wildly, though you could tell she was more impassioned by the wild mood than truly mad, "-I’d rather eat out home than be up at the hall, not with the bread- Have you noticed the difference? Audacious-brazen- the nerve-!”

You looked down at the bowl in your hands, covered by a rough, clean cloth, glowering at the poor excuse for a lump of dough you knew was cradled within it as you stood by the side between two buildings in Berk’s village center, waiting for Thora to return, listening albeit unwillingly to the rabble of the folks surrounding you.

You had been making a lot of bowls of dough recently.

It was unusually cheery out and even more bustling than usual- nearly everyone was out with a smile, though you found you weren’t so interested.

“-Aye, I ‘ave got a nice cutting of wood, if you find any interest– it’s good fer ‘em leg-making- and arm fixin,’ of ‘ourse, if yer fixing to make another, and I’m sure ye’d be needin’ some of ‘at soon.” You watched Johannes proposition Gobber out of the corner of your eye, who was clearly not paying him any attention, waving him off as he sipped out of his ‘cup’ arm- a mug with a handle stuck in it carved in the shape of a peg, easy to fit into his prosthetic’s screw hole.

Across the way, Johannes had a shallow cart of what looked to be just-recently-sanded strips of wood, thin and polite looking. 

You furrowed your brows, wishing you were anywhere but there as he droned on- It was a rare day whenever anyone was unable to sell on Berk -a miracle, really- for Gobber was an easy buyer.

A tall red-headed woman burst past you, storming down the dock, hauling a large cart of barrels behind her like a field animal, “-Streams of cloth-!”

He thought himself wise and clever, but the old blacksmith was perhaps the most susceptible on the island to the advertisement of any decent material. He had a chest full of useless materials, though he often ended up doing at least something with most trinkets.

You shuffled, boot soles scuffing against the wood below, hoping that your dough was enough to land you a job in the Great Hall- they were so picky up there, really, the old maids- though you had to admit your culinary skills were quite poor.

You resisted the urge to rub the back of your head, recounting, ruminating and stewing your most recent run-in with Hoark’s wife. 

She was the resentful type, one of the ones who had been pestering you and Snotlout with chores, not that he hadn’t deserved any of the pestering, but- Oh, you’d surely told her that if they wanted you to do any more you’d have to be paid. She’d respond by tossing a bowl towards your head, scolding you with something about public service and the Chief and dragons. 

You shot something sour back about never having been a Rider- and, well, you’d gotten a bowl to the head for your efforts.

Exhaustion- you were up to your ankles in it.

Your arms worked hard into the pristine wooden counter, pushing and rolling dough over ground grains in the open hall of one of Berk’s newest buildings- you weren’t sure anyone had settled in yet, and that was just as well.

As you’d recently learned, with the lack of a proper kitchen in the Great Hall- it was poor, really, they’d set up shop here for the time being. You wondered when it would finally be declared a community building like the library had been, something which you’d taken a lot of joy in.

It was about time, really, and it was awful nice not to have to ask around for books or notes anymore, though some of them had the tendency to go missing, and without any real book-watcher to keep an eye out, many missing slips went unaccounted for.

You rolled the dough below your hands- dark and grainy- extra hard into the wood, a dark brown, smoother than any other table you’d known, sanded and sealed in a way that made it harder for any dough-bits to get stuck in the cracks and rot-.

You prayed to any God that would listen that Thora would be impressed with it this time- cooking was one of the least indulged-in activities on Berk and was not one you were particularly well-practiced in. It was one of your least favorite activities, in fact, but you needed the job if you were going to buy back the plants before anyone had noticed them missing and kicked up a fuss.

As you’d learned through careful reading, some of them you could only get from Johann and you knew for sure that that old liar played favorites.

It was a shame you couldn’t get coin any other way, but most things had been accounted for and you’d been stoutly refused pay for most of your chores. 

You listened to the voices dancing and mingling from the open window, the wide open space and propped open doorway making you feel quite naked even separated by wooden walls from the outside. 

You nearly scowled as you heard the voice of a woman, a portly blonde -very pretty but also frazzled- and you heard the vague idea of some other voice as hers mingled with something deeper.

You wished you were making stew instead. You could handle an alright stew. Snotlout would like your stew… If you didn’t tell him you were the one who made it.

You cursed the dough for the highest time that day.

Really, You had asked around and now you were starting to suspect that the dough-making test had been a torture that Thora had cooked up just for you.

You wanted to scowl again as you heard the noise of a crowd approaching the doorway once again, though you released it slightly as they bustled past.

You were slightly displeased as a straggler separated from the bunch. You caught him out of the corner of your eye as he stumbled over wood, a pleasant expression over his face as he looked back, the cheering of Gobber now loud and obvious past the door frame, growing quieter as he walked away.

You’d been running into him a lot as of late.

“What’s going on out there?” You asked, before he could speak. “It sounds like everyone’s out throwing a party. It’s not Snoggletog, is it?”

You turned your attention away from the bread

“...Something like that,” Hiccup said dryly. “Pre-festival.”

“Really?” You braced your hands against the edge of the table, the wood below creaking as you leaned over it. 

You stuck your tongue out slightly, furrowing your brows at its sealed surface.

Despite its newness, it was a very poor counter; craftsmen had been, clearly, ignorant in the art of table-leg making, its sides slightly unbalanced and nailed into the floor. Compared to anything else you’d be able to find anywhere, it was probably one of the worst tables ever.

The other islands told you so- or, their trades, really. Berk’s carpenters could  be considered novice in comparison- the exploration of anything other than fighting was... A privilege the inhabitants of Berk had only been recently afforded. 

You wondered how the youngest children on Berk felt, having been able to grow up in a world without dragon fighting.

You’d always wondered as a kid, on war-torn Berk, how the other settlements had even been able to make something so smooth or beautiful. 

The quality of the simple chairs and tables Johann had brought over on the very rare occasion had seemed otherworldly and had been sold fast- to be fair, though, it would probably be much easier for anyone to achieve that same level of quality in craft in any place with fewer conflicts.

You cringed as another loud shout echoed in from the outside, where the sun from the window felt nearly burning against your eyes.

“Here, let me-” Hiccup pressed the house’s shutters closed before going back to close the door, kicking away the stopper with his foot. 

You felt every muscle in your body release as the noise from outside became more muted, looking down at your dough with new eyes.

It looked dark and slightly green, deflated like a sad, dry booger.

…It might have been overworked. You were no expert, though. 

“I’m going to have to make a new batch.” You grumbled.

Hiccup shrugged, coming around the side of the counter, “...It looks fine to me?”

You didn’t even mind as he edged closer, too busy mulling over your failed batch. 

“Are the others nearby?” You asked.  

They hadn’t been around recently, so of course you’d assumed they’d been off doing Rider-ly things with their leader. The suckers had ditched you pretty quickly after the mud fight and you hadn't had the chance to mingle with or chase after and wrestle down the others recently, either, as they’d probably wanted you to do- though you knew they’d wander back eventually. 

“...They’re up at the hall, probably, if you want to meet up with them. They’re managing the decorations, I think.” Hiccup said. 

You hadn’t been around, looking around for work, nagging the Vikings that strayed from the late meal. Berk’s hardest workers always skipped it, staying out way past the setting of the sun- they were usually the ones who needed assistance but were too stubborn to ask for it. They also tended to be fond of their alone time, too disconnected from Berk’s larger circle to absorb any of the most recent news- when you were younger, you’d imagined you might end up like one of them.

“Decorations?” You asked dryly. You wouldn’t put the Twins in front of a yak, much less in charge of any decorating. 

You were sure that hall would look unholy by the time you were able to see it again.

“Yeah,” HIccup said. His hair was slightly mussed and once again darkened, so he must have spent some more time in the forge, then. “You…?”

“Thora,” You grumbled, “She’s got me kneading bread all day, though I have no idea why.“

You turned his words over in your head again, then you perked up with confusion and slight skepticism, “You said something about a pre-festival?”

“Ah, yeah.” Hiccup said before he asked cautiously, “She’s… trying to hire you, isn’t she?” 

“That’s what she told me.” You grumbled, before sighing with defeat, letting your hands drop from the counter and giving way as your shoulders slumped,  “She’s been lying to me, though, hasn’t she?”

You stepped back from the corner and looked up finally, just in time to catch as Hiccup’s eyes darted from your feet back to your face. 

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you begrudgingly took him in, back in his leathers, which looked almost polished, his underclothes darned and hair groomed if not clean, which looked almost unusual compared to his now-usual windswept look.

Though you had been making efforts to keep your mind off of it, then you were startlingly aware of his close proximity, taking careful, quick, unwilling measures of it in your mind, pulling details and etching them into permanent stone tablets and storing them away on dark-toned, foreign shelves. 

You hadn’t had much time to get used to him again after your last real encounter.

The hug you shared- well, it had been, admittedly, private. It was a simple hug, though you loathed to share the experience with anyone else.

Hiccup pursed his lips, which was all you needed to know you’d been right. “She’s been… more focused on other things, so… Yeah.”

You grimaced, glancing away and nearly running a sticky hand over your head, before thinking better of it. 

…Great. You’d been roped into more unpaid labor.

Hiccup looked at you oddly again. 

You recalled something you’d heard earlier, and if he was right, then she was giving out your misshapen bread at the hall- maybe that was why. It was a mystery solved on his end.

You were probably not going to settle for a job at the hall, then, or risk the wrath of any others. You had to say that most of the bread that you tasted  in the hall was poor. Unfortunately, though, you knew yours was worse. 

“I don’t know how to make bread.” You confessed, glaring at the sacks of grains littering the corner of the hut and the sparse few bags slumped against the side of the counter table, melding to where table-leg-wall met wood flooring. “I don’t like making bread.”

You had half a mind to kick the sack, but you knew from experience that your toe would surely be stubbed, so you glared at the sizable boot-shaped indent in its side instead.

“...Does anyone like making bread?” 

You turned your glare towards Hiccup, before reminding him, “Festival.”

You were sure at this point you’d age early, with how often you’d been straining your brows.

“There’s going to be one,” You stated more than asked. 

“I-Ah, yeah.” Hiccup brought up his hand to rub at his chin, furrowing his brows, “I didn’t really- plan it, but, well, I think my Dad-Well, he sent a letter, and Gobber got ahold of it, and someone looked it over- there was something about expecting a warm welcome back, and harvest is soon, so-”

“Really?” You hummed, thinking. 

Unlike your other Viking kin, holidays were few and far between- you had only two, Thorsday Thursday and Snoggletog, though you were sure you’d heard talk of more in the most recent years- wishful thinking, for the most part, but if it was true, and the people had been decided arbitrarily and not that it was time to celebrate, then you were sure there would be tons more to come.

“Right,” Hiccup said, crossing his arms and shrugging. “...Do you need any help?”

You gave him a look that you knew would encompass all of your skepticism at once, something you knew would say, ‘are you serious?’

It was… Maybe a bit too obvious that you did, however, you did have your reservations. Hiccup wasn’t a great cook at all- he could manage a very, very simple meal but you knew he always relied on the Hall’s meals to get by, and he was far from a baker. 

At his responding second shrug you sighed and rolled your head back. Fine.

“C’mere,” You said, shuffling slightly to the side. 

Awkwardly, Hiccup moved right up next to you- he didn’t take the side you’d expected, which startled you some, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to prickle. 

A glance back at Hiccup’s face told you he regretted it too, his expression stiff and his shoulders too, awkward as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“What? So I…” Hiccup reached past you, his arm brushing against yours as he touched the dough. 

It would have been so easy for him to turn the rest of the way and press himself against your back- You sighed nearly shakily, pulling the dough in two, your arms jerking as the tough dough snapped in half. “I wouldn’t know.”

You handed the smaller half to him, then grimaced at it mournfully. “It’s too hard.”

“Is there… What do I do next?” Hiccup asked.

You grimaced. You’d run out of milk and other grains- most of the bags you had left were just oat and wheat. “More water and dough- that is all I’ve got.”

“Hmm,” Hiccup grimaced back. “Where’s the…”

You nudged the sack leaning closest to you with your foot, grains shifting stiffly as your boot made contact with the rough sack. You were careful not to jostle it too hard- though it was mostly limp, leaning against the floor and flat wooden table-wall, you’d cut it open by the top, and you knew one hard knock would be enough to cause whatever was left inside to spill across the floor. 

“The water’s-...” You looked off to the side, craning your neck where, to your left, an array of spoons and bowls lay neatly mounted on one wall, a small, polite bucket of boiled water, nearly empty, sitting below it all, with what you knew was a wooden bowl floating inside, right where you’d left it. “I’ll get the water.”

You let out a short puff of air before walking around Hiccup and going for a bucket. 

You paid no mind to him as you’d bent down and peered into it, where your shallow bowl had flipped upside down somehow and the wood had gone from a dry dark to an even darker, water-soaked, nearly jet-black.

Behind you, Hiccup grunted. 

You heard a small thump and heard what sounded like fabric shifting- he was kneading the dough, then, you assumed- possibly. He was most probably unclean, yet your dough was trash dough anyways, so perhaps it was for the best.

You  grabbed ahold of your bowl with a sigh, flipping it over with your fingers and scooping up a decent measure of water, holding it carefully yet casually in one hand as you stood up and turned back towards Hiccup who had, while you were not paying attention, grabbed ahold of your sack of flour.

Somehow he’d turned it upside down, the flap holding the sack closed slowly unfolding itself, the beginnings of a muffle rushing building, not unlike the sound sand made as it poured out from between your fingers. 

“Wait, I-” You startled, stepping forwards and dropping the bowl, which fell to the ground with a clatter and a splash. 

Before you could reach out in full, Hiccup’s shaking yet tight grip on the sack meant that with all the force of a Nightmare, a pile of flour exploded over both the floor and your dough piece, resting miserably and floppily over the counter.

Your eyes fluttered open with astonishment, the shifting of the skin over your face feeling thicker as you opened your mouth, a heavy cover of flour laying across it. 

You blinked down hurriedly, tugging at your tunic and staring at the heavy layer of nearly edible silt along your front. As it thickened under water- well, it would be the worst trouble to clean.

Besides you, Hiccup coughed, eyes clenched shut, the flour’s sack mostly empty and lying abandoned against new wooden floors- you hope they’d already been sealed. They should have been, but there were a few lazy folk and you knew you’d be feeling standoffish if, well, they hadn’t been. 

You let your arms fall limp as you glared at the large pile over the countertop, a building ticking feeling growing in your throat.

Once he settled, you glanced at Hiccup, a sour look on your face, then you glanced away, stubbornly flicking some flour over towards him with two fingers.

“This is your fault,” You said stubbornly, denying your own clumsy lack of foresight and tossing Hiccup into the spotlight. 

“What- hey,” Hiccup began before you yourself began to cough.

You puffed, and right after a cloud of white and beige grain bloomed into the air and sank with the slowest abandon onto the already thickly covered countertop.

Maybe it was the poor timing, or the comical, nearly hysterical silence which followed, or maybe it was perhaps a sudden reaction and refusal to accept what had happened and to perhaps smother any awkward tension with laughter, but you’d had to clenched your lips shut then, stifling a sudden onslaught of laugher, something choking and joyful-ugly in your throat- sharp as if you’d just seen one of the Twins tipped by a Yak instead of vice versa or you’d heard a Terror spill a bucket of fish over someone else’s yet, and yet this felt much lighter.

In the silence you’d left behind, it was Hiccup who laughed, an awkward, unsure thing, flour splattered across his face like dry dirt. 

You had to snort then, shoulders jerking, a hand coming up to your nose to wipe away the grainy powder there and staying there as the joy wracking your frame grew to be too much, causing you to nearly keel over.

You stumbled forward, almost tripping over onto Hiccup, your bent head knocking into his shoulder, his hands coming to grip your sides as he struggled to stay standing.

“Sor-sorry,” You said, your hands coming to grasp at his upper arms, your fingers curling around them as you lifted your head and smiled at him.

“I-I,” Hiccup started.

You weren’t sure you’d even had a moment with anyone that was so simple and sweet. Not even with Hiccup, when you were younger, snider and sillier.

He didn’t stop like you assumed he would, leaning closer and closer- your eyes were wide, so much so they felt almost watery as he leaned in, noses nearly knocking, blessing you with a stiff press, thin lips meeting yours with simple heat and hard intention.

Oh Hel.

You made a small noise in the back of your throat as he pulled back, your face blank but still reeling from the last press of lips, your hands flat against his arms instead of curled around them.

You were there and not, feeling strongly the heat of Hiccup’s palm nearing your back yet practically soaking in the wooden-ness of your limbs. 

“I-I,” You tried, glancing to the side, then back at Hiccup, scrambling for even a thought, something to say- instead you just leaned closer, his breath curling at your lips, shaking.

“Do you…?” Hiccup tried, his head tilting slightly more to the side as he too leaned again, his eyes falling slightly lidded, mouth hanging slightly open and his lungs beat with heavy breath and heart.

He pulled you close again, nearly flush. 

You pressed back into it with nearly a confused whine, though you were no less invested, tugging him closer to you, the both of you turning smoothly for the single instant you’d both been pressed together before you pulled apart again.

“What…?” Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his sleeves as your head fell to his shoulder, resting in the place where the edge of one leather pauldron dug into your forehead.

You matched his shifting, as his chin rested just barely over your shoulder-ensconced head, the both of you moving in some tight, quiet, easing dance, all stiff limbs and smooth, small movements.

 It hadn’t been much, but it had been enough to leave you panting, your face hot enough and your eyes nearly burning as you struggled to come back to yourself.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

The Jealous One pt 9

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,196

The third time's a charm. 

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE, unedited

<Previous - Next>

“Woah… Didn’t know you were cool.” Tuffnut scoffed and laughed, his shoulders bouncing as he laughed from his throat.

“Shut up,” You grumbled. You hadn’t wanted them to follow you down in the first place.

You were under a dark niche, an overhang on the opposite end of the spire to the one that faced the village, on the side where Mildew lived but this bit was much closer to the base.

The air underneath was moist and heavy.

You’d come down with Hiccup, once. You’d spent the time loitering and listening to him rant, his neutral greens and warm browns looking out of place against the dark rock, while you did your own thing, leaning against the side of a dripping rock wall. 

You’d thought this place used to be something that belonged to both of you, but now it was more just a you thing… or maybe not.

You’d been feeling confused since you’d woken up in Hiccup’s hut in a spare set of your own sleepwear -when did he have the time to go get your sleep wear? 

You hadn’t even known he’d had it in him to care for anyone like that, in such an intimate fashion. You remembered a point in your teenhood in which he would have insisted you hand yourself off to Gothi- Really, the whole event had woken up a large number of twisty curly things and mixed with the slightly sour feeling in your gut- you were almost sure you’d never recovered from your violent illness.

You could still feel it tickling at your periphery, the sickness- It really would suck if you’d gotten sick again.

It had been a cold night last night and so some of the mud below crunch beneath your feet, thawing frost coating some patches and melting snow wetting others so thoroughly that you’d been up to your ankles in the sludge.

Your boots had a thick wadding of it even now, standing in the sanctity of your own secret cave- you own cave secret no longer.

You had your hands on your elbows and your shoulders hunched, and although it was true that you were mad, you were also incredibly cold.

“Don’t be lame,” Snotlout scoffed.

“Those who live in twig houses should not be swinging axes,” You grumbled, “And so I’d rather you keep all your stones to yourself.”

“What? What does that even mean?” Snotlout puffed up his chest from where he stood in front of you- he was closest to the exit of your little overhang, the one you now wanted very much to leave, though you loathed the idea of stepping out into the mud, much more liquid than it had been earlier, when you had stepped down into your crevasse and it had been still too dark out to cause any real melting.

“I called you dumb, dipstick,” You grumbled, knowing he would never take the time to pull that sentence apart on his own. 

He was stubborn and talking to him sometimes was like throwing knives at an impenetrable wall -the harder to work at it, the more likely you were going to hurt yourself- and you cursed him for it.

You also cursed his father for being such a dud- Snotlout would really be better off if he just thought, but wishful thinking could never be anything but wishful thinking and Snotlout was an old hunting dog- no new tricks for him.

“Downer,” Tuffnut scoffed as he hobbled outside for reasons unknown to you though not unwelcome.

“You know what would solve all your problems?” Snotlout asked. He responded right after, without waiting for you to ask, “Get pretty. Pretty ugly.”

You felt immediately more sour, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

You were even more sour as you felt something smack against the side of your leg.

You looked down just to be greeted by a thick wad of wet ground staining already dark grays darker- and at his squealing, you realized that the trajectory and force of Tuffnut’s throw meant that Snotlout had gotten splashed too.

“Yeesh,” You snapped, “You couldn’t have chosen a better time for a mud fight, could you?”

Mud against your skirt, you followed after Snotlout as he fled, shouting something squirrlish and manly about ‘stuff’ on his coat and yak dung.

He stopped right at the entrance of the cave and you ran straight into his back, rushing out after him, which had the unintended effect of shoving him roughly into the mud in front of him.

You nearly burst a lung with your laughter, half doubling over before whipping your head back as a large glob of mud slammed into your face with all the force inertia allowed.

You gawped, using both hands to pull the mud away from your eyes and wipe it off your face, flinging small spatters of it  against the rock walls and floor.

“That one was meant for Snotlout, but ‘eh,” Ruffnut, the obvious culprit, shrugged, her hands muddied, “I guess you’re good too.”

“Oh, Hel! Chief’s kid! Run!” Snotlout shouted. In the way they did when you were all kids and they’d been mocking you and Hiccup in different ways.

At the word ‘Chief,’ the Twins startled suddenly like bucking sheep, tripping over their feet to sprint away and make for the forest as fast as they could, jumping down ledges and bolting.

You gaped and watched as they all ran off, staying standing where you were, then you began to laugh nearly hysterically as Tuffnut tripped over a long slip of mud before falling violently on his face. 

He only just barely made it back into a scramble a moment longer.

Hiccup stood straight just before the clearly-made-worse field of mud, clearly caught off guard.

“Hi,” You said, with what must have been a dopey grin on your face and mud all over your being.

The others- you were slightly annoyed by how they’d run at the sight of the Chief’s son despite being his almost good friends.

From the chilly walk up the Chief’s hill and into his dwelling, which was dark and slightly cold, which must have meant that the Chief himself was still blessedly absent, off on some overseas trip or other.

“I should… Probably go.” You said, turning. You weren’t sure why you’d come up in the first place, the walk you took spent in silence- you’d need to hurry back to bathe so that your waning cold didn’t spike once more.

“You don’t have to.” Hiccup said then, “I was- I mean, I was- You can, then me? Or I can, then you- No- I had Toothless heat up the bathwater, earlier, and I-”

You tilted your head to the side, looking at him, greasy brown hair and all- Toothless’s fire always ran hot and so, ah, he must have gone for some herbs, then- Gothi planted a few at the base of the mountain, and for those with scarring and the right knowledge of plants, they made for an okay blams, which was the point. The old healer had probably gotten tired of the rabble crawling up to her hut over nothing and making their irritations worse.

“We can... Split the water,” You suggested weakly, shrugging crusting shoulders, tilting your head to a large wooden bucket of water off to your side- nearly large enough to hold a person.

You stayed huddled by the fire, your hands to a mug, your lips teasing the edge of it.

You wore a tunic that wasn’t yours, that hadn’t fit Hiccup by multiple sizes but still smelt like Hiccup anyways flopping over your hands- he’d probably used it to stuff his pillow or the like, because it smelt a lot like residual smoke and him.

You borrowed from him a pair of undershorts, too, and they remained the only thing keeping your bottom half from the grained wood floor- besides the soles of your feet, your knees being pushed up nearly to your chin.

The bath bucket, Hiccup had placed up in his room, probably intending to enjoy the luxury of being able to bathe up in the loft. Unfortunately, he’d conceded the right to bathe up there to you, settling for a bucket and washcloth.

The water, Hiccup was too lazy to bring it down as he’d brought it up.

You figured you would figure it out later as you dried, but by the sounds of it Hiccup had probably just ended up tilting the whole bath out his window, dumping the water that way- There was a stain on the side of his house from when he’d done it before and a gouge where he’d cut out some suspicious looking rot, probably a consequence of the undue moisture and fading waterproofing. 

You wanted to puff at it, but you knew you were much too lazy to pail up any water for yourself.

You looked to the side but remained no less stationary as you heard him come down the stairs and settle, standing an appropriate distance away. He was nearly looking at you but his eyes were angled in a way which said ‘not quite.’ 

You couldn’t fathom why, however, unless he was being shy about your dress, though you couldn’t see why he would be concerned or avoidant- he’d put you in his things, after all.

By the light of the fireplace flickering warmly at the fronts of your legs, his hair was more than auburn in the light, looking lighter and fluffier than normal now that he’d washed out the grime, probably with a slight bit more fervor than usual, though you were slightly aghast by it and confused as to why.

You’d definitely felt softer about him since he’d cared for you, sick as you were, though you were surely unsure of where the two of you stood.

“Hello,” You said, breaking the silence which felt heady and warm.

“...Would now be a good time to apologize?” Hiccup started, his prosthetic and the floorboards squeaking as he shuffled.

You blinked your eyes open, staring at Hiccup for a moment. He looked almost earnest. “...I guess so.”

“I’m sorry.” Hiccup started, “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

You shrugged.

“Are you free? I mean, I could start… I could start bringing you on trips with the Riders?”

You startled slightly, the peaceful atmosphere between the two of your disrupted slightly- and suddenly you could feel again where spots of Hiccup’s tunic were damp, mostly in parts you’d done a poor job of drying, you could feel the few bits of grain that dug into your rump through its fabric and you could feel how the room was still a smidge too cold against your back, except it wasn’t anything you thought of fondly, more something that sent uncomfortably shivers running up your spine.

That was the exact opposite of what you wanted- it would be a  reminder of all the ways you didn’t belong between them, bearing witness to exactly how you always would mess up their rhythm. 

You didn’t like the idea at all. You struggled to come up with a way to explain it to him.

“I don’t… I would just be dragging you guys down. It’s not like I have a dragon, or anything, and you guys have… years,” You said self consciously. You tried to keep your voice from cracking at this part, though you couldn’t really tell if you minded, “-Of experience, together. I think I’ve only been there for a few, you know, before everything.”

Hiccup started and he opened his mouth to speak before closing it.

“That’s my fault.” Hiccup said guiltily, “I should’ve… I trained dragons for the others.”

You knew that especially then as you turned further to the side, the meat of your leg coming to rest against the Haddock’s wooden floor. You could feel all the grooves in it against fresh, just recently damp skin.

“And I… I left you.”

“Yeah,” You said, curling your knees up and refusing to look at him, “You did. But that was in dragon training and I wasn’t there. I didn’t make the cut, I guess.”

 Admittedly, you were a little upset, but as it always went, you hadn’t done much to let it show until now.

They didn’t hide it or anything, but still. Even if the others didn’t hang out much outside of Dragon Riding, they still had tons of experience together. 

You hated being together with everyone at once even in the Great Hall. being there had been a hard reminder, one you’d shake off soon enough.

“It’s different now.” Hiccup protested, taking a step forward.

You wondered if his stump hurt, still. You felt bad about distracting him- you hoped he hadn’t caused himself pain, foregoing the nice bath and hauling all the water out of his window anyways.

“Is it? I mean,” You demurred, slightly out of it, “I still don’t… I don’t have a dragon, so. I can’t fly with you or anything and I know that’s really important. Isn’t that why…?”

“What? No, no, even if it was, we can work on that.” Hiccup smiled awkwardly, “I can- Toothless and I can do all the heavy lifting- not that you’re heavy, I mean… If- if you’re not sure, then-”

“I don’t know.” You started, looking down, “Maybe. But… Why? Seriously, Why now? I don’t understand…”

And you refused to look, not deeply. You didn’t want to, knowing that it usually hurt. Instead you chose to believe that he was either deathly ill or mad- two likely culprits, the last one foremostly. 

You settled your mug to the floor, standing and moving close up to him, one hand grasping his arm as you pressed yourself closer, your other hand coming up to feel at his forehead.

It was wonderful- to feel, to hold, to touch- but you didn’t focus on that, on the uneven feeling of his skin in one parts and the lumps under others and you didn’t focus nearly enough as you probably should have on the light, damp sheen over his forehead, or how nice the burning under his skin was against your palm, nearly oppressive despite the fact that you were the one to make the first move.

You couldn’t tell if it was burning or not to an unreasonable extent -not just by touch- and any redness that must have shown itself, clutched against peach skin, was obscured by the red light of fire and the darkness of shadow.

“You’re not sick now, are you?” You mumbled with some vague concern.

“Ah- N-no.” Hiccup said, his hovering, twitchy hand coming to rest along your waist.

With his eyes reflecting the flickering light of the fire, contrasting against brighter greens and baby colors, you thought that this moment that you’d found yourself in- It was like something out of a dream you’d had when you were younger.

You’d wandered into it unintentionally, and past your musings you’d nearly expected to wake up in your bed at fifteen years of age once again, sleep interrupted by the furious screaming of a bloodthirsty dragon. It would be nice if you did.

This moment, you knew, was not as kind or as dream-like as it seemed, for if it was, there would be more than a broken friendship and hesitant camaraderie between the two of you- a great deal more.

You kept your face blank as you slipped away slightly, ready for the warm, solid grip of Hiccup’s palm on your waist to become something colder and more absent. However, you paused- You hadn’t so much as tugged yourself away from his palm as you’d let it lay there, coming quickly to notice the sureness by which he held it against you, not at all giving as it should naturally be when someone was pulling away, nearly unwilling to let go.

“You’re not trying to win me over anymore,” You asked suddenly, “Not in the typical sense?”

“I-” Hiccup started before his eyes flickered away, his other hand sliding against your waist. “No.”

You did your best not to think of how he might have held Astrid- how you were sure you’d seen him touch Astrid in the same way, which sent twinges up and down your spine and touched your bruising ego, covered in irritating, old, slightly raw burn marks.

None of that mattered, though, because this wasn’t what that was- of course it wasn’t because he’d never treated you that way, and wasn’t that nearly a problem? It wasn’t that you couldn’t look beyond yourself to know, but to treat it in that way- to find it, to know it to be fake or even real or to entertain the fantasy would also hurt- it might sting and rage at your softer parts in a way that made you want to cower, and so you pushed all yearnings and musings and other sad things farther away.

“What are you doing?” You leaned in slightly closer, eyes searching, feeling more serious than not, even as your bare knee brushed lightly against his clothed one.

Hiccup sighed breathily. You could almost call what he did a wheeze.

“...I’m sorry.” Hiccup said, and in an action that surprised you and had your neck straightening and your eyes opening wider by a slight margin, he placed his face securely into your shoulder.

You could nearly feel his lips against your neck, in the place where collar bone met shoulder, and you resisted your own urge to shudder and sigh, all your shaky breaths held deeply inwards.

You mumbled softly, leaning back into him and resting your head against his neck, “I forgive you. I really- really forgive you. And… And I’m sorry too.”

Sorry for dumping water on his head, for being so crass, even if he deserved it- and sorry for everything you’d lost, too, along the way and before the journey.

You tightened your arms slightly, your eyelids shutting tighter as you took in the shape of him, how he felt, ever so warm against you, his hands moving from your waist to your back, his arms pushing and wrapping against your sides, constraining and nice made nicer as the heat of the hearth in the floor beat and flickered steadily on.

Hiccup smelt fresh, like river-washed clothes and a bit like mildew all mixed in with something that was surely Hiccup, something heavy growing finer, much different to the scent you were sure had belongs to him, noted down when you were nothing but young teens tussling and chittering around in forests and along village pathways. 

You hummed into his neck, your eyelashes grazing gently against the skin and baby hairs there and sighed, your voice thick and catching, raspy and muffled by the parts of his skin pressing into your cheek and the seam of fabric warm and almost scratchy against one side of your nose.

You knew  on some level that this might never happen again. So, you desired to enjoy it before you couldn’t- before, once again, you became bitter, before you felt rupturing-ly petty and frustrated and sad.