#httyd x reader

They say dragons were once fearsome beasts, horrifying beings of terror who reveled in the suffering of vikings. With their hooked fangs, which set them apart from the common order of nature, breaking the harmony of the world. They would sink their jagged teeth into the skin and gnaw upon the bones of unsuspecting men, dragging their broken bodies to nests forged in the heart of molten rocks built in the high sky. 

These creatures, capable of soaring across the heavens with wings that defied reason—vast and powerful—could span the heavens, forcefully ruled the skies with an iron grip, a terror unmatched by any other force. Berk, the beast of the archipelago, stood as a testament to the fragility of peace amidst a history of unyielding strife. A land carved by scars, scarred by the ceaseless struggle between its people and the creatures they dubbed “monsters.” told this story that had echoed for seven long generations, a tale of ceaseless strife and bitter hatred.

But it took seven generations. Seven long generations of struggle, sacrifice, and transformation for Berk to heal. The land had changed for the better—No longer did the people cower beneath the shadow of these mighty creatures. 

A misunderstood child who knew no war was the reason to hit them with the realization that dragons weren’t vicious beasts whose sole purpose in life was to spread fear, but a gentle creature who were curious just as the people. They had learned, through years of conflict and understanding, to bend the essence of their deepest fears into something stronger—a bond forged in the crucible of mutual respect. Where there was once hatred, there now stood the beginnings of trust. 

The villagers, who once spent sleepless nights bolting their doors and sharpening their weapons in anticipation of the next raid, now spent their days working alongside the very creatures that had once been their enemies, now companions in the sky, and partners in the pursuit of new horizons. 

While the majority of the villagers had forged unbreakable bonds with their dragons, they wore their titles with pride—Riders, they were called, as though it were a crown, you stood apart. You were not one of them, you never will. You were not one who yearned the heights or the thrill of the wind in your hair as you perched atop a Nadder’s sharp-spined back or to cut through the depths of the sea with a sleek Tidal-class dragon beneath your orders. Your feet remained firmly planted on the ground—and truth be told, you didn’t mind.

It wasn’t just your fear of heights, though that certainly played a part. The idea of being thousands of feet in the air with only leathery wings and blind faith keeping you aloft made your stomach churn. While others saw dragons as mounts, instruments of power and glory to be ridden into the heavens. You became attuned to their every movement, their subtle shifts and nuanced gestures. 

Over time, you learned how to read them — the way their wings twitched when they were agitated or how they softly curled their tails when they felt safe. You understood that a dragon’s body spoke volumes, even when they couldn’t. Noticing the shift in their posture, how their eyes softened when they trusted you, or how their breath would quicken if something was amiss.

You preferred to nurse them, to soothe their wounds with a gentle touch, offering comfort where others might only offer a quick, dismissive pat. Others would offer praise with the calloused palms of their hands, clapping a dragon’s back after a triumphant hunt, their actions rough like the bark of an old tree—kind in their own way but lacking the softness that true care requires.

That was the way you had always handled things in old Berk. Thankfully, no dragon has yet to be injured on the new island.

Then Toothless fell ill.

"[Name]! Oh, thank Thor’s maidens you're here," Hiccup called out to you, his voice strained, a clear edge of panic curling the words. His eyes flicked back and forth, darting between you and the frantic Night Fury pacing erratically across the room. Toothless' wings twitched uncontrollably, the delicate membranes brushing against shelves, knocking over bottles made of stone and glass, the contents spilling in chaotic arcs across the floor. Toothless’s eyes were wide, pupils tiny pinpricks of frantic energy. His mouth snapped open and shut, his sharp teeth glinting as if trying to convey something that couldn’t be expressed. 

You’d seen Toothless angry, playful, even fearful before, but this was something else entirely. This was distress. What could have made such a strong dragon like the Night Fury become so distressed? What could he convey with his actions and movement that left no process of communicating plainly? 

You’re bound to make a promise to figure out why Toothless was like this and help him if you could.

You turned, wiping your hands against the fabric of your cotton-sewn tunic, the remnants of purple crushed herbs leaving faint streaks on the cloth. The scent of the mixture still lingered on your fingertips, bitter and sharp, along with the sweet scent of wet flowers that hung in the unfinished hooked wooden roof. 

As you looked up, your gaze met Hiccup’s. He was standing in the doorway, looking like a newborn yak with an amputee—his breathing labored as though he had just run a great distance of a race. Hiccup’s hair appeared matted and his eyes looked restless as they were doubtful. His chest was rising and sinking almost melodically. His face was pale, and his eyes were just as wide as his dragon’s, filled with that mix of concern and urgency you’d seen only in moments of true danger.

"Toothless?" You called softly, taking a careful step forward while trying to be calm, taking hold despite the growing worry in the pit of your stomach after seeing the dragon’s current state. He was scared. Toothless, although startled by your almost fretful tone, did not pay attention to you and continued with his line of thought oblivious to your attempt to soothe him down the situation. His ears flattened back at the sound of your voice, but his movements didn’t slow. In fact, he seemed more erratic now, each step heavier than the last, each twitch more desperate than what came before.

“What happe–”

His words tumbled out in a rushed whisper. "I-I don't know what's happening. One minute, he was fine, and the next... this." Hiccup gestured helplessly toward Toothless, who continued to pace, his wings stiffening and shaking. Toothless growled lowly, his body tense and rigid as he backed into a corner, his breathing uneven and labored. Every attempt to approach him resulted in a defensive response—his ears folded back, tail lashing sharply, and a clear warning in his posture that he felt threatened despite the familiar presence of his two trusted people.

Hiccup took a quick step toward you, avoiding Toothless in case it was to ensure that he remained calm, dragging a hand through his unkempt hair, his fingers gripping at the strands as he exhaled sharply,  

“Something is wrong. He’s been like this for nearly an hour now,” the young Viking explained, his tone quieter but no less urgent than before. “It started after he accidentally swallowed a yellow eel. He fell ill almost immediately—developed a high fever, I think, then he became noticeably weak, and…” Hiccup’s body was taut, every muscle in him was bracing for the worst. His eyes darted to Toothless, but his dragon refused to meet his gaze, his pupils slit, with his body sinking lower to the ground, curling into himself, trying to make himself smaller in the face of whatever pain was coursing through him. 

Toothless’s breathing was shallow, his sides heaving slightly as he fought to stay still, to hide the tremors that racked his frame. Hiccup took a cautious step forward, but Toothless flinched at the movement, lowering his head as if to shield himself. “He refuses to let anyone near him. Not even me,” Hiccup finished, the last words a quiet confession that only deepened the worry on his face. 

“Won’t even let me close,” Hiccup whispered, his hand hovering just over Toothless’ back but never touching.

“Please, [Name], help him.” 

His voice was flat, but his expression said more than words could. He didn’t fidget, didn’t avert his gaze. You nodded once, not out of reassurance but acknowledgment, and moved past him. His red tunic smelled faintly of iron and damp leather, his sleeve brushing yours like paper worn thin.

Toothless was lying near the hearth, his body tense. His wings were pulled in close. His claws scraped lightly against the floor, his movements uneven and sluggish. His head remained low, eyes dull, unfocused. There was no protest, no attempt to move away.

You crouched beside him and opened your satchel. The supplies were still warm from being near the fire—clean cloths, crushed herbs, a sealed vial. Your fingers moved without hesitation, but your eyes scanned every detail of Toothless’s condition. His breathing was irregular. His tail had a slight swish, and the skin around his jaw looked strained. Whatever had happened to him, it was already spreading.

“I’ll do what I can,” you said.

You didn’t wait for thanks. There was no time.

The fire had burned low, its glow reduced to a warm shimmer beneath the stones, casting gentle light over the room’s stillness. You knelt beside Toothless, your hands steady as they hovered near his flank, gauging the subtle rise and fall of his breathing. The fever that had held him in its grip for so long had finally broken during the night, and now, for the first time in what felt like hours stretched into days, there was calm in the air.

He started to blink slowly. His head turned slightly toward you, his nostrils flaring with a soft, measured breath. His tail, which had remained curled protectively around his body during the worst of his illness, loosened and stretched faintly across the wooden floor. His throat rumbled with a sound so quiet you almost missed it—a low, cautious greeting, like a voice forgotten, then remembered.

You inhaled deeply, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders all at once

“He’s responding,” you said quietly, almost to yourself.

Across the room, Hiccup sat in a slump against the wall, his body slack from the exhaustion of too many sleepless hours. The blanket draped haphazardly over his legs had slipped to one side, revealing a tunic stained with soot and worry. His head, tilted at an uncomfortable angle, rested against the beam behind him. Even in sleep, his brows twitched with unease, his jaw faintly clenched—seeming as if he didn’t quite trust peace to last.

Toothless raised his weight, testing the strength in his limbs. He paused once, winced slightly, then adjusted his stance. The tremors that had racked his body earlier were gone, replaced by deliberate, if cautious, movement. His wings stretched, not in full flight, but enough to show that he could. It wasn’t strength, not yet—but it was progress. More than you had dared hope for yesterday.

Then, with surprising care, he began to walk. Each step was certainly slow, the soft pads of his feet brushing against the floor with faint thumps. He crossed the room without hesitation, his eyes never leaving the boy in the corner. When he reached him, Toothless lowered his head, pressing his snout gently against Hiccup’s arm. A quiet, purposeful sound left his throat—not loud, not demanding, but enough.

Hiccup stirred. His eyes opened blearily, and for a second, he looked confused, as if his mind hadn’t yet caught up to what was happening. Then his gaze focused on the dragon in front of him, and everything else fell away.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice hoarse and raw. He leaned forward, one hand lifting to rest on Toothless’s head, the contact hesitant at first, then grounding.

Toothless nudged him again, a bit firmer, with a breath that seemed almost like a sigh.

You let them have their moment.

It started the moment you stepped outside.

You didn’t say anything at first—you assumed Toothless was just being clingy, the way most dragons acted after being healed. A little spoiled, maybe. Like a puppy demanding belly rubs and scratches behind the ears. You’d seen it plenty of times before.

But then he didn’t just nudge at your hand for attention.

He got closer. Much closer.

Without a sound, Toothless lowered himself until his head was resting across your lap, the full weight of his trust pressing gently into you. His tail, smooth and sinuous, coiled loosely around your leathered boots—not in a possessive way, but as if anchoring himself to you. Like he didn’t want to drift too far, even at rest.

Your hand didn’t stop moving. You continued to pat his head, your palm caressing from the ridge of his nose to the top of his forehead in slow, steady passes. The texture of his scales came to be familiar with your touch now—cool and sleek like river stones warmed just slightly by the sun. You could feel the subtle rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch, each exhale a quiet puff of warmth against your clothes.

Hiccup had been watching from just behind, peeking curiously over your shoulder, his brow furrowed as he eyed his dragon with a mix of confusion and suspicion. He knew Toothless better than anyone—of that, there was no doubt. They were best friends, bonded for life, closer than brothers. He could read the Night Fury like a book, from the flick of his ear fins to the way his pupils shifted in size. But right now? Hiccup didn’t have a clue what was going through his dragon’s mind.

Toothless was being clingy—uncharacteristically so. That kind of affection, that gentle insistence to be close, was usually reserved for Hiccup alone. Or, on rare occasions, when Toothless decided he wanted someone’s food and pulled out that ridiculous, wide-eyed look he’d perfected over the years.

He didn’t offer his head to rest across laps like some tame house cat. And he especially didn’t wrap his tail around someone unless he absolutely meant it.

Hiccup hovered just behind your shoulder, shifting his weight with an almost imperceptible unease. His posture suggested casual interest, but there was a tension in the way his hands fidgeted near the leather harness, as if he needed something—anything—to justify standing that close. He leaned slightly over, his voice low and deliberately nonchalant.

“He’s, uh… made himself very comfortable,” he remarked, casually, though his tone betrayed a hint of something else, pretending a study of the saddle straps that he himself had fastened not even an hour earlier—though his eyes never once flicked to the gear. 

You didn’t answer right away. Your hand remained where it had been for the past few minutes, gliding in slow, absent circles across the midnight scales stretched over Toothless’s brow.

“He was restless earlier,” you murmured, eyes still on the sleek silhouette resting across your legs. “I think exhaustion finally caught up with him.”

Hiccup exhaled through his nose—a quiet, incredulous sound, the kind he often made when something didn’t quite add up. “Tired, huh?” he echoed, one eyebrow arched as he crossed his arms. “Right. Because Toothless is known for voluntarily laying down and offering his head like some… overgrown feline.”

“He’s been... different since he got better,” he said eventually. “Clingy, I guess. But only with you.” 

As if prompted by the remark, Toothless flicked one ear back lazily and released a deep, sonorous sigh—a low rumble that vibrated warmly against your legs. Then he adjusted his weight just slightly, curling tighter around your boots in a gesture so deliberate it might have been smug.

“You know,” Hiccup continued, now frowning slightly, “he only gets like this when I’m injured… or if there’s leftover fish and he’s trying to butter me up.”

You said nothing—only smiled faintly, the pads of your fingers tracing along the ridges where scale met bone. The rumble of the dragon’s throat deepened—a smug, vibrating hum that practically radiated satisfaction.

There was a pause.

And then, perhaps against his better judgment, Hiccup added under his breath, “Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was flirting.”

That definitely caught your attention. You turned your head slowly, casting a glance over your shoulder with one brow arched so high it might’ve escaped orbit. Every line of your expression—your knitted brow, the sharp squint of your eyes, the downward curve of your mouth—broadcasts a very clear and unfiltered what the actual hell without needing to say a word.

Hiccup’s eyes widened, his brain seemed to catch up with his mouth a second too late.

“With you! I mean—not you—like, not literally!” Hiccup stammered, his words tripping over each other in a spectacular, crashing spiral of embarrassment, not knowing how to stop, he just continued. “Thors! Dragons don’t flirt. That’s not—I mean, I don’t think that’s how it works. I just meant—”  He stopped himself again, grimacing and raking a hand through his already-messy hair, as though hoping sheer friction could erase the mortifying sentence from reality. “I meant dragons don’t flirt! At least—I don’t think they do. Not in any, you know, intentional way. Not that you’re—ugh, never mind. Just forget I said anything.” He was done for. Absolutely cooked. And you? You just sat there, rigid as a stone sculpture, your entire expression locked in a state of horrified disbelief—lips drawn in a taut line, eyes slightly widened, your entire face twisted into that exact look you reserve for the unfortunate occasions whenever Gobber absentmindedly scratches his ass mid-conversation in front of you.

“Oh, by Odin’s beard. I sounded insane just now, didn’t I?” yes, yes you did. You wanted to say.

There was a loud snort.

Toothless lifted his head just enough to crack one luminous green eye open, as if to gloat. If a dragon could sport a smug grin, almost as if he were fully aware of the awkward tension hanging in the air and relishing every moment of it. Toothless was wearing it now—his posture relaxed, almost lazily victorious, as if he knew something the rest of you didn’t. It was a quiet, undeniable triumph. Then, with the most deliberate motion imaginable, the dragon raised his head just enough to nudge your arm... right into Hiccup’s thigh.

Your hand collided with him before you could stop it—fingers landing just above his knee. His leg jerked slightly. You froze.

He froze.

Even Toothless stopped moving, watching you both with an intensity that would’ve been terrifying if it weren’t so smug.

“I—he—what is wrong with you?” Hiccup half-whispered to his dragon, voice strained.

Toothless gave a tiny, airy chirp and nosed your hand again, this time with more force, like a toddler shoving two dolls together hoping they’d kiss.

“Well, if he is flirting,” you said, eyes glinting with amusement, “I’d say he’s got excellent taste.”

Hiccup let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a scoff and a nervous laugh, quickly raising his hand to shield his reddening face. “Please,” he muttered, voice nearly cracking in desperation, “I’m begging you. Don’t encourage him.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in your chest, the sound barely escaping as you continued to run your fingers along the smooth curve of Toothless’s jaw.

“Relax, Chief,” you teased lightly, your tone as calm as ever, well, nervous also, “I think your dragon just likes being pampered.”

“You know what,” he muttered, his hands already pulling toward the saddle straps, “I think his saddles make him itchy. I should change it.”

It continued after

New Berk lay quiet in the late afternoon, blanketed in the mellow hush that followed a long day’s labor. The skies were stained in hues of peach and gold, the sun dipping low behind the ridge, its last light brushing the rooftops with amber fire. Down by the dragon stables, you were crouched beside a weather-worn harness, your fingers working the frayed leather with practiced precision. The air smelled faintly of salt and dragon musk.

Toothless sat only a few feet away, his wings partially tucked, tail curled lazily around his paws—but his eyes never left you. That deep, verdant gaze tracked your every movement with a focus that was… unusually intent. For a moment, you swore he was studying you, like you were the dragon and he the expert.

The silence was broken by the familiar rustle of boots—well, boot, and the clink of a prosthetic leg against gravel. “Got the saddle gear you wanted—oh, hey, looks like someone started without me,” Hiccup called out

You offered a small smile. “Just got started. Figured I’d prep the straps while I waited.”

You glanced up as he jogged toward you, the dying light of the sun catching the mess of buckles and saddle slung over his shoulder. His tunic, stained with smudges of charcoal, bore the marks of the day’s labor. A grease-streaked cloth hung loosely from one shoulder, and smears of oil lined the edge of his jaw like war paint, a testament to the effort he’d put in.

“Gobber had the replacement buckles hidden under a crate labeled ‘Definitely Not Dragon Parts.’ I didn’t ask,” he added, crouching beside you with a huff of exertion.

Toothless twitched an ear.

Hiccup began to kneel down beside you—but before he could get comfortable, Toothless leaned in. It wasn’t aggressive. Just a firm, intended nudge with his snout to Hiccup’s side.

Which, unfortunately, was all it took.

With a muffled yelp and a sudden lurch of limbs, Hiccup lost his balance. In one swift, ungraceful motion, he toppled sideways—right into you. The unexpected impact sent you crashing backward, your back hitting the earth with a startled gasp. The air whooshed from your lungs as you were flattened to the ground, Hiccup landing awkwardly above you, his hands splayed in the dirt beside your shoulders as if trying to catch himself, but failing miserably.

You both froze.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just the sound of the wind and Toothless’s faint chuckle broke the stunned silence. You lay there, staring up at him. Hiccup, his face flushed and eyes wide with embarrassment, shifted slightly, trying to regain his balance, but his awkward position only seemed to deepen the comedic nature of the situation.

“I—I swear that wasn’t me—he bumped me, I swear!” Hiccup stammered, his voice cracking under the strain of sheer mortification. His entire face flushed a vibrant crimson as if the embarrassment alone might send his ears into flames.

Toothless, meanwhile, let out a low, throaty trill—undeniably smug—before flopping onto his side with a soft fwump. He stretched his wings in a manner that could only be described as exaggerated satisfaction, purring contentedly like a mischievous feline who had just knocked over a vase and couldn’t be prouder of the chaos he’d wrought.

You laughed softly. “I think he’s trying to herd you.”

“Toothless,” Hiccup groaned, glancing at his dragon. “Stop it, I’m not a sheep!” He lifted himself just enough to look at Toothless, who was now shamelessly lounging in the grass, with an utterly smug look on his face.

Toothless chirped again—this time with what could only be interpreted as sure you’re not—and used the tip of his tail to slide a small stitched pouch directly between the two of you. The sewing kit skidded to a perfect stop at your knees, like he’d been practicing the maneuver all day.

“Yeah, he’s a real genius,” Hiccup grumbled as he shifted, trying to right himself. But the moment his hand pushed into the grass to grab the harness—wham. Toothless’s tail snapped out in a swift arc, tapping the small of Hiccup’s back.

And, just like that, Hiccup tumbled again. This time, he didn’t just lose his balance—he fully sprawled on top of you. His weight came crashing down with a perfect lack of coordination, and just like that, the last shred of dignity between you both evaporated in a heap of tangled limbs and groans.

Now it wasn’t just awkward—it was catastrophic. His face was far too close, hovering a few humiliating inches from yours. Everything else seemed to vanish. Your noses almost touched, and the proximity sent a rush of warmth through your chest that you didn’t quite know how to process. His hair, soft and surprisingly warm, brushed your cheek as he scrambled to push himself up, but instead of finding balance, he only succeeded in awkwardly elbowing you in the ribs.

The jolt of the impact made you wince, but the real sting came from the overwhelming closeness, the sheer absurdity of the situation, and the fact that neither of you could move without causing yet another small disaster. It was like the universe had conspired to take every shred of composure you both had left and toss it out the window.

Silence.

Well, except for the unmistakable sound of Toothless making a pleased little gurgle behind you, followed by the soft sound of him flopping dramatically onto his side like he’d just orchestrated the greatest comedic performance Berk had ever seen.

“I—I didn’t mean to—I mean he—Toothless—I swear he—” Hiccup stammered, his voice tripping over itself like a cart on cobblestones. He scrambled to push himself up, flinching every time his elbow threatened to jab your side again. His face was flushed a mortified crimson, a shade that clashed violently with the soot smudges across his cheek.

Hiccup looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. His wide eyes flicked to the ground, then back to you. You lay there, stunned, still half-flattened against the grass, your brain desperately trying to reboot from the shock of having Berk’s most awkward chief sprawled on top of you like a felled pine.

“I believe you,” you finally breathed, your voice catching somewhere between a laugh and a wheeze.

Hiccup’s face turned even redder, if that was even possible. “I—I’ll just… get up now. Slowly.”

“I swear,” Hiccup muttered, finally offering you a hand as he tried to extricate himself with the last scraps of his morality, “I’m usually much better at not falling on people.”

Things had been fantastic.

Since his father had accepted dragons as a part of life, the world had opened up for Hiccup. He spent all of his time working with Toothless, expanding the rookery, cataloging species, sketching maps and forging new gear. The village looked to him like he actually belonged. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t “useless.” He was essential. He was happy. Toothless was even happier. His friends had dragons, too, exploring their sense of self up above the clouds just as he was.

He had finally done something right.

Until the night he met you. He lost his sense of self immediately.

One of the seamen, Golberg, came sprinting back into the center of Berk, out of breath and sweating, eyes wide. His face was beet-red, easy to see even in the dark. He knocked urgently on the chief's door, waking Hiccup in the process.

Him and his father exchanged a look before opening the door.

Golberg immediately started rushing the words out of his mouth.

“IwasdownonthedockandwhenIwastyingtheshipupIheard--”

Stoick stopped him, holding a hand up.

“Breathe, lad. What's going on?”

Golberg sucked in a lungful of air, bent over with his hands on his knees. When he looked up, his eyes were still too wide, his voice trembling with disbelief.

“I heard the whistle! The whistle of a Night Fury! I saw the damn thing, in the sky, and there was--”

Hiccup interrupted.

“Not possible. Toothless is the last one alive.”

Golberg shook his head frantically. “I know what I saw!” he insisted, voice pitching higher. “It looked like a Night Fury -- almost exactly! But different. Bigger, maybe? And the sound -- gods, I swear it, Hiccup, it had the same shriek. The same lightless dive!”

Hiccup felt a chill crawl up his spine. Toothless stirred behind him, sensing the tension.

“Where?” Stoick asked, already turning toward his axe.

“The docks.” Golberg’s voice dropped. “It landed.”

Hiccup didn’t wait. He grabbed his flight gear and swung onto Toothless’s saddle before his father could stop him. The dragon let out a low, uneven chirp -- something between a question and a warning.

Hiccup’s brow furrowed. “You alright, bud?”

Toothless blinked, slow. His pupils were wide, body sluggish beneath him.

Strange.

Still, Hiccup tightened his grip on the saddle. “Let’s go.”

When he reached the dock, there was nothing but wet footprints. Footprints that looked exactly like Toothless's but bigger, like Golberg had mentioned, and then a set of small boot prints beside them. They reached the gravel and then disappeared.

“Damnit.” Hiccup grumbled. “They're gone.”

Toothless again stiffened up, a groan leaving his chest, before he oriented his body towards the thick line of trees across the water. He groaned again, his head shifting with more intention this time. His ears twitched toward the tree line, pupils narrowing slightly.

Hiccup followed his gaze.

A dense stretch of forest stood just beyond the edge of the inlet --dark and mist-veiled, with only the faintest shimmer of moonlight bouncing off the wet leaves. Nothing stirred. Not a single branch moved, no animal sounds. Too quiet.

Hiccup’s fingers flexed around the saddle grips.

“You smell something?” he muttered. Toothless gave a low rumble in response, tail swaying slightly.

It wasn’t just instinct. It was something deeper. Primal. A flicker of recognition from the Night Fury. Of territory being tested. Of something that felt too close, too similar… too other.

Hiccup slid off the saddle slowly, boots hitting the damp wooden dock with a muffled thud. He followed the trail where the prints ended, crouching down to touch the last visible one. Still fresh. Still wet.

Not gone. Just hiding.

He looked back at Toothless --who now stood perfectly still, shoulders hunched, wings twitching like he was bracing for a challenge.

“Okay,” Hiccup muttered under his breath, pushing up the collar of his flight suit. “If they want to play it like that…”

He drew his dagger from his belt -- not to use, but just in case. He wasn’t going to be caught off guard. Whoever you were, you had the nerve to fly into his village on a dragon that shouldn’t exist, insult his intelligence, and vanish into the woods like a shadow.

No. He wasn’t letting it go that easy.

And with one last glance at the still, dark trees, Hiccup stepped off the gravel path and into the forest. Toothless followed, body tense but curious. His black scales shimmered in the night glow.

The forest swallowed them whole.

No village lights reached this far. Just the occasional sliver of moonlight piercing the canopy and the steady rhythm of breath --Hiccup’s, then Toothless’s, both just a little too fast.

Twigs cracked underfoot. Moss muffled the rest. The air smelled like earth and storm.

Then, the brush moved. Deliberate. Close.

Hiccup froze. Toothless’s ears flattened. Another growl rumbled out of his throat, deeper this time, nearly a warning.

But the answer came before Hiccup could react.

A second growl. Lower. Rougher. From somewhere ahead.

Toothless surged forward, snarling, but then stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes locked.

A shadow melted from between the trees like ink in water.

It was your dragon again.

And you, standing to its left, one hand still resting on the beast's side, calm like you'd been waiting.

You tilted your head. “Bringing backup?”

Hiccup didn’t sheath the dagger, but he did lower it. “Didn’t realize I’d need it.”

“Neither did I,” you replied. “But here we are.”

The tension cracked in the air between you.

Your dragon was.. Toothless. But bigger. He had broader wings, shinier scales, and sharper teeth. Instead of green eyes, his were an intimidating ice blue, pupils thin, eyes trained onto Hiccup and Toothless like he expected a fight. His wing curled around the back of you, like a protective sheath, ready to curl you inward if needed.

Your eyes widened, not as hostile as your dragon's.

“It's true.. Everything I heard is true. There is another one.” You said, almost breathlessly. You ran a hand down your dragon's side reflexively, like a calming gesture to both of you.

Hiccup’s breath hitched, a mix of disbelief and something deeper stirring in his chest. The weight of it settled like a stone -- another Night Fury. Not just a myth or a legend. Real. Alive.

Toothless shifted beside him, low growl vibrating through the air, but his eyes were softer now, watching your dragon with cautious recognition.

“You don’t look like one of us,” Hiccup said slowly, eyes flicking back to you. “Not from Berk. Where are you from?”

You met his gaze steadily, fingers still lingering against your dragon’s smooth scales. “Far from here. I’ve been chasing stories for months, trying to find the Night Fury I've been hearing of. Your Night Fury.”

Hiccup’s eyes narrowed slightly, absorbing your words. The weight of months spent searching, the desperation and hope wrapped into one, was clear in your voice. It stirred something in him -- a mix of admiration and skepticism.

“Thor,” he murmured, glancing at his dragon, who let out a soft, almost curious chirp in response. “I didn’t think anyone was still looking for them. Least of all, someone like you.”

You smiled wistfully.

“I found Perseus,” you gestured to the huge dragon beside you, “when he was small. Thrashing around in the bushes, caught in a trap. I was never like the rest of the people in my village. I didn't want to kill them and I wasn't afraid of them.”

Perseus purred, nuzzling against you.

“I raised him. Learned how he works. Learned everything about his species.. The species I thought burned out. But it seems we were wrong.”

Hiccup’s eyes softened as he studied you and Perseus, the enormity of what you were saying settling in like a dawning light. “You raised him… from a hatchling?”

You nodded, fingers gently stroking the sleek scales along Perseus’s neck. “I had to learn fast. Night Furies aren’t like other dragons, they’re elusive, intelligent, and fiercely protective. If you don’t understand that, you don’t stand a chance.”

Toothless shifted closer to you both, his gaze flickering between Perseus and his rider with growing curiosity. The unspoken connection between the two Night Furies hummed quietly in the air -- familiar, like echoes from a past no one had dared to speak of.

Hiccup swallowed hard, a strange mixture of envy and relief flooding him. “I thought Toothless was the last. That the species was gone forever.”

You smiled in amusement.

“Toothless. What a fun name.”

Hiccup blinked, a slow smile creeping onto his face despite the tension lingering between you. “Yeah, well, it fits him. He’s… unique.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light but carrying an edge of knowing. “Unique is one word for it. I imagine he’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide.”

“Toothless?” Hiccup grinned, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong.”

The two Night Furies exchanged a brief glance, the older one’s eyes narrowing with something almost like recognition, before Perseus let out a soft, rumbling purr that seemed to say, I like him.

After the exchange, Hiccup brought you back to the village.

He couldn't decide whether it was a mistake or not.

You were loved. Immediately.

You could do things Hiccup couldn't. Perseus was new and shiny to the people of Berk, adoring fans crowding around him, but backing up when he let out a shattering roar, as if to warn people from coming too close.

Hiccup watched from a distance, a complicated knot tightening in his chest. You moved through the crowd with effortless confidence, sharing knowledge about Night Furies that left the villagers wide-eyed and eager to learn. Your connection with Perseus was undeniable -- fierce yet tender -- and the people of Berk couldn’t get enough.

But there was something else. A tension beneath the admiration. A shadow in Hiccup’s mind whispering that he was losing ground -- not just as a dragon rider, but as the village’s champion of dragon-kind.

A rivalry began.

Who could complete the most raids? Who could defend Berk better? Who caught the better approval from Stoick?

You and Hiccup were at each other's throats as soon as you could be.

One time, you showed up at the same raid, undermining each other and failing to complete it. Your eyes almost burned with irritation as you dismounted Perseus, approaching Hiccup immediately.

Hiccup wasn't much happier.

“What the hell was that, Haddock?!” you shot, voice low but fierce. “Trying to show me up? Because you just made a mess of everything.”

Hiccup’s jaw tightened. “I wasn’t trying to impress you or anyone else. I was trying to keep Berk safe. Something you seemed to forget when you decided to go solo.”

Perseus growled softly behind you, wings twitching nervously, while Toothless let out a warning hiss, sensing the tension crackling between the two of you.

You stepped closer, eyes locking with his. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to be the hero, you’d see that we’re stronger together.”

Hiccup laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

“We have no business doing anything together,” he groaned, “You're only here because of your dragon. Not because we need your help.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sharp edge in his voice, the unspoken hurt beneath the anger. Your breath hitched, but you refused to show weakness.

“Is that what you really think?” you asked, voice steady but cold. “That I’m just some tagalong riding a flashy dragon? Maybe I’m here because I want to protect Berk. Just like you.”

Hiccup’s eyes narrowed, pain flickering there before the stubborn shield went back up. “It’s not the same. You don’t belong here.”

Perseus rumbled low, a protective growl that vibrated through your bones. You wrapped a hand around his neck, grounding yourself.

“I belong wherever I decide to stand,” you said softly but firmly. “And right now, that’s here. Whether you like it or not.”

For a moment, the silence between you was thick enough to cut. Then Toothless stepped forward, nudging Hiccup’s arm, breaking the tension -- a silent reminder that neither of you were alone in this.

He could've sworn he saw a tear glisten in your eye before you stalked off. Perseus stuck behind for a second, grumbling at Hiccup judgmentally, a warning growl.

Hiccup stood frozen for a heartbeat, staring after you as your silhouette vanished into the darkening woods. The raw vulnerability beneath your fierce words twisted in his gut, conflicting with his stubborn pride.

Toothless shifted beside him, letting out a low, almost mournful hiss, before glancing up at Hiccup with those wide, knowing eyes.

Weeks stretched before you and Hiccup interacted again. You’d even been in the same place without speaking. You trained with the rest of the group, but you didn’t train with Hiccup and Toothless. You focused on training Perseus with the larger dragons, namely Snotlout (annoying and far too flirty) and his dragon Hookfang. You sometimes trained with the twins and their Zippleback too, but once again, Tuffnut got a little too comfortable with you.

Today, Perseus had done well. He always did, really. There was something odd about the session though.

Hiccup and Toothless hadn’t even shown up, they were nowhere to be found at all. So you, unfortunately, were kind of off your game. You looked off into the horizon, expecting to see Hiccup on Toothless’s saddle, apologizing awkwardly for being late. But the moment never came.

“Babe!” Snotlout called, gliding up next to you. You felt the heat off Hookfang’s scales seeping into your clothes. “Focus. What are you looking at?”

You rolled your eyes. “Babe? What have I told you about calling me babe, Snotlout?”

Snotlout grinned, completely unbothered. “That it gets under your skin.” He leaned a little too far toward you, raising his eyebrows. “Which I take as a sign you secretly like it.”

Hookfang let out a snort that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and Perseus curled his lip, baring a row of glinting white teeth. The threat was clear -- one flap closer and Hookfang wasn’t the only one Snotlout had to worry about.

You sighed and gently tugged Perseus back with a hand on his jaw. “Back, boy. He’s not worth the energy.”

Snotlout raised both hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright! Don’t get your tail in a twist. Just trying to lighten the mood.” He squinted at you, then glanced toward the distant cliffs beyond Berk. “You’ve been twitchy all day. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were worried.”

You stiffened slightly, trying to hide the way your eyes flicked to the sky again. Still no sign of Hiccup or Toothless.

“I’m not worried,” you lied. “I’m just… distracted.”

“Mhm,” Snotlout said, clearly not buying it. “Well, for what it’s worth, I heard Hiccup was out early this morning. Didn’t say where he was going, just packed some gear and flew off. Toothless didn’t even say goodbye to Hookfang. Can you believe that? Rude.”

That sinking feeling returned in your stomach. Hiccup might have been petty -- and kind of a jerk when he wanted to be -- but he wasn’t reckless. Not without a reason. And not without telling anyone.

Your voice was quieter when you finally spoke. “Did he say anything to anyone?”

Snotlout shrugged. “Not that I heard. Maybe Fishlegs would know more. He and Hiccup always talk nerd stuff.”

You gave a quick nod, pulling Perseus around with a soft whistle. The massive Night Fury immediately followed, wings twitching with tension.

Snotlout called after you with a lazy wave. “Try not to miss me too much!”

You didn’t even glance back. You were already scanning the skies, muttering under your breath.

“Where the hell did you go, Haddock?”

Surprisingly, you didn’t have to go far.

When you went into the village to get some gear in preparation to go hunt them down, you found that they were already home.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. Hiccup answered, worry in his eyes, poorly disguised as annoyance to see you.

“Y/n. I’m kind of busy right now.”

Your brows drew together immediately. You could see it in Hiccup’s face -- the exhaustion, the unspoken panic. His shirt was wrinkled, collar askew, and his hair was a mess like he’d been running his hands through it nonstop. Something was wrong.

“Busy?” you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady. “I noticed. You disappeared without a word and didn’t show up for training. Toothless didn’t show up either. And now you look like you haven’t slept.”

Hiccup sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

That stung. You stepped forward anyway, peering over his shoulder, and your heart dropped.

Toothless was curled up on the floor behind him, his massive form sluggish, wings drooping over the sides of the rug. His breathing was uneven, too slow. His scales, normally iridescent and alive with movement, looked dull under the dim firelight.

Your voice softened, forgetting every ounce of rivalry between you. “Hiccup…”

“He wouldn’t eat,” Hiccup muttered, stepping aside reluctantly to let you in. “Didn’t fly right. He nearly crashed this morning, so I brought him back. He’s been like this since.” He dragged a hand down his face. “And I have no idea what’s wrong.”

You dropped your gear beside the doorway and approached Toothless slowly. Perseus, waiting outside, let out a soft, distressed hum that vibrated through the wood of the hut. You crouched beside the dragon, resting a hand against his muzzle.

He didn’t flinch, but the touch made his eye flicker open. It was hazy. Unfocused.

You took that as a sign that he wasn't hostile. Leaning down further, you calmly smoothed your hand across his head, starting from his jaw and ending by his folded ears. You frowned, biting your lip. He was warm. Feverish.

“I’ve seen this before,” you cleared your throat, standing. “He’s sick. Perseus has been through it, too. I called it Scorchrot.”

Hiccup blinked. “Scorchrot?”

You nodded grimly. “It hits Night Furies harder than other dragons. Starts with a fever, then weakness in the wings and limbs. If untreated, it can affect their fire glands -- that’s where the name comes from. They burn too hot on the inside, like they’re rotting from the core.”

Hiccup paled slightly, glancing back at Toothless. “How did you treat it?”

“Well, there's a medicine I can make that helped Perseus a lot. Also, cool compresses, a temporary shift in diet -- no fish, just soft roots and rainwater -- and something to lower his body temperature.”

Hiccup ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “Medicine? What kind of--what do you need? Herbs? Minerals? Just tell me and I’ll get it.”

You gave him a steady look. “I’ll need frostleaf, ground thistle root, and dried skybloom petals. They’re rare this far north, but I saw some near the cliffs when I flew in.”

He exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders tight as wire. “Right. Okay. I’ll get them.”

You hesitated before stepping forward, voice softer. “You don’t have to do it alone. I know you don’t trust me. But trust me with this. I’ve done it before.”

He met your eyes, something shifting behind his, pride, maybe. Or fear disguised as pride.

“I’m not worried about trusting you,” he muttered. “I’m worried about losing him.”

Your expression softened. “Then we fix him. Together.”

A quiet moment passed. Then, from behind, a weak thrum of a purr came from Toothless’s throat -- hoarse, but there. Alive. Reaching.

Perseus, still just outside the hut, let out a low, supportive hum. He wouldn’t leave either.

And maybe, for the first time in weeks, the rivalry didn’t matter so much.

“Can you.. Will you stay here with him? I don't want him to be alone.”

Hiccup acted like it literally burned his throat to ask for help, but you accepted, smiling softly.

“Yeah. I'll stay.”

You moved back toward Toothless, kneeling at his side again with quiet care. His tail twitched at your presence, just barely, and you stroked along his jaw, murmuring something low and soothing. His eyes fluttered, half-lidded, but calmer now.

Hiccup lingered in the doorway, watching the way your hand moved so naturally, how Perseus let out another soft trill from outside, keeping vigil.

“Thank you,” he said, voice rough.

You didn’t look up. “Go get what we need. We’ll be here when you get back.”

There was a beat -- like he wanted to say something more -- but he only nodded. Then he was gone, off into the thickening clouds of the afternoon, chasing herbs and hope like his life depended on it.

Inside the hut, the heat from Toothless’s fever pulsed faintly in the air. You leaned into it, not shrinking away, fingers steady on his scales.

“We’re gonna take care of you,” you whispered.

When Hiccup returned, you were holding a cold compress to Toothless's head tenderly, stroking his scales. You'd loosed your hair from your braid, the curls tumbling down your back in soft waves -- before you even realized he was there, you cooed, speaking gently to the dragon. It was your nature, he'd realized. You were amazing with them, like you'd known how to love a dragon your entire life. Because in all honesty, you did.

This was the first time he wasn't envious of it. He leaned against the doorframe watching you, an unusual feeling building in his chest.

No envy. No distaste as there usually was. Just.. watching you. Watching how you worked. Watching how your h/c hair blew gently in the wind from the open window. Watching how you turned to smile at Perseus, who had somehow managed to curl his massive form around you on the floor.

You were beautiful.

The thought made Hiccup wince. Why the hell was he doing this?

Because for once, he wasn’t trying to win.

Not a raid. Not a title. Not Stoick’s approval.

Not even a rivalry.

Just--this. Toothless, sick but stable. Perseus curled around you like a shield. You, eyes soft and voice softer, hands moving like you'd done this a thousand times, like dragons were born trusting you.

Hiccup tightened his grip on the bundle of herbs in his arms, unsure what to do with the sudden ache blooming in his chest. You weren’t supposed to be beautiful. You weren’t supposed to be gentle and fierce in the same breath. You were supposed to be frustrating. Competitive. Impossible.

But now? You were kneeling in his hut, taking care of the creature he loved most in the world like he was your own. And for the first time, Hiccup felt like maybe you weren’t just here because of Perseus. Maybe you weren’t just a threat.

Maybe… you were something else entirely.

He stepped inside quietly, setting down the supplies. You turned, surprised but smiling.

“There you are,” you said softly. “I was starting to think you got lost.”

And just like that, Hiccup found himself smiling back.

“Not a chance,” he murmured, eyes flicking to Toothless. “Couldn’t stay away.” Then quieter, “From either of you.”

He winced, turning his head to apologize for being weird, but he hadn't realized that you'd already gotten started on preparing the medicine, probably having taken the herbs from his arms while he was staring like a moron.

His face flushed.

Get it together, Hiccup.

You hadn’t said anything about the comment -- at least not out loud -- so he was really hoping that you hadn't even heard it. If you had, you let it pass. Maybe out of kindness. Maybe because your focus was entirely on Toothless.

Your fingers worked with practiced ease, crushing herbs with a mortar and pestle, mixing them with a dark amber liquid that smelled earthy and sharp. The kind of scent that clung to the back of your throat. Hiccup stayed quiet, hovering nearby with his hands in his pockets like some awkward apprentice.

“Help me lift his head?” you asked, glancing up with that same infuriating, gentle confidence you always had. Like you knew exactly what you were doing. Like you didn’t need him but still wanted him there.

He nodded quickly, grateful to have something to do. As he cradled Toothless’s heavy head, you brought the bowl close, dipping a small ladle into it and holding it near the dragon’s mouth.

Toothless didn’t resist. He trusted you. That fact alone made Hiccup’s chest ache.

You sat back on your heels after the last of the mixture was gone, brushing your hands on your thighs. “He’ll need another dose tomorrow, but this should bring the fever down.”

Hiccup set Toothless’s head back onto the cushions gently and looked at you again.

And this time, when he looked, he really saw you.

Not the rival who beat him at raids. Not the outsider who dazzled Berk. Not the competition.

Just you.

Exhausted but unwavering. Fierce but kind. Beautiful, yes but in that wild, maddening way he never saw coming.

He cleared his throat. “Thanks. For… everything.”

You met his gaze, softer now. “I’m not here to steal your dragon, you know.”

“I know,” Hiccup said, voice low. “I think I just… didn’t know how to let someone help.”

You tilted your head, studying him, something unreadable behind your eyes.

“Well,” you said, finally, “you’re doing better than most.”

And he smiled. A real one. Small, crooked. Honest.

You stood to leave, gathering your things. A small wave of your scent hit his nose -- flowers, smoke from a fire, and leather grease.

He watched as you slung your pack over your shoulder, fingers deft and sure, the same hands that had soothed Toothless back from the edge. You didn’t look at him right away, maybe on purpose, maybe because you didn’t want to break the strange quiet that had settled.

And maybe he didn’t either.

You were halfway to the door when Hiccup found his voice again.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You paused, glancing over your shoulder.

And there it was again -- that look. Like you could see through him without even trying. Like you already knew what he was going to say.

Still, he said it.

“…Thanks for staying.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks for letting me.”

And then you were gone, the door closing quietly behind you. The scent of flowers, fire, and leather grease lingering like a memory.

Hiccup stood there a long time after you left, watching the door, listening to Toothless’s steady breathing, wondering when everything had stopped being so simple.

And why the thought of seeing you again tomorrow suddenly felt like the most important thing in the world.

Over the next week, Hiccup watched you like he had the first night you'd been there. Watched you care for Toothless while he was sick. Watched you help the both of them through his recovery, helping the dragon regain his strength and teaching Hiccup how to help too.

You guided his hands to where he needed to hold Toothless, supporting him in regaining limb strength. Hiccup wasn't sure if he'd felt such soft, yet firm hands in his life. They were warm too.

And every time your fingers brushed his, by accident, or maybe not, Hiccup’s mind blanked for a second too long.

At first, he told himself it was just proximity. Just admiration. You were helping Toothless, after all -- he’d be an idiot not to appreciate that. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way you smiled when Toothless lifted his head for the first time without help. The way you murmured encouragement into the crook of his neck when his limbs trembled from fatigue. The way you praised Hiccup when he got it right, voice soft and proud, like it mattered to you.

Eventually, Toothless was himself again.

You cheered in happiness when he finally took flight, darting around the sky, diving like he used to. Perseus joined him, flying around in circles.

You stood with your hands cupped around your mouth, calling out to them both like a proud parent, laughter spilling from your lips as Toothless and Perseus twirled through the sky like black comets.

Hiccup stood beside you, unable to take his eyes off either of you -- not the dragons, not the joy on your face. Your eyes glowed with the reflected fire of the setting sun, and something about the moment twisted in his chest, bittersweet and beautiful.

“He’s really back,” you breathed, eyes tracking Toothless as he executed a perfect loop. “I was scared he wouldn’t be.”

Hiccup glanced sideways at you, his voice quiet. “Me too.”

Perseus roared playfully mid-air, and Toothless responded with a trilling chirp before they dove together, a synchronized flash of wings and light. Their bond was no longer wary or foreign. It was something else now. Familiar. Like they’d always known each other.

Kind of like… you and Hiccup.

You turned toward him just then, and he realized how close you were standing. Shoulder to shoulder. You’d always felt like competition before. But now, you felt like something else. Like part of his team.

“You helped him get here,” Hiccup said, voice low, a little rough. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”

You blinked, surprised at the honesty. Then your lips curled into a slow smile. “Well, Haddock, maybe you’re not so bad at letting someone help after all.”

He huffed a laugh, half embarrassed. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You nudged him gently with your elbow. “Too late.”

The dragons whooshed overhead again, close enough for a gust of wind to tousle your hair. As you both watched them chase each other across the sky, Hiccup wasn’t sure what tomorrow would look like -- but for once, he hoped it looked a lot like today.

When he returned home, his dad sat in his chair, reading from a big thick book. He looked up from it, smiling knowingly.

“Hiccup. How's Toothless today?”

Hiccup paused in the doorway, caught off guard by the warm familiarity in Stoick’s voice -- and the knowing look in his eyes. He stepped inside slowly, brushing the wind from his hair and shrugging off his riding gear.

“He’s better,” Hiccup said, glancing out the window for a moment as if he could still see the dragons dancing in the air. “Flying again. Strong.”

Stoick nodded, pleased. “And the other one? Perseus?”

“Also good,” Hiccup replied, then hesitated. “They’ve started flying together. It’s like they’ve known each other longer than we have.”

He closed the book, placing it down on the table next to him.

“You're right to be fond of that one. Y/n. She's fantastic with the dragons.”

Hiccup's jaw dropped immediately, his face burning. What was his Dad insinuating?

“Dad! We're not--”

Stoick interrupted, putting his hand up to silence him.

“My boy. There's no shame in it. She's fair in the face, she's honorable, and she’s got a spirit fiercer than any dragon I’ve ever met. A fine match for a chief’s son, don’t you think?”

Hiccup sputtered, his ears turning as red as a Monstrous Nightmare’s flame. “I--I don’t--we’re just friends! We train dragons together, that’s all!”

Stoick leaned back in his chair, his knowing smile widening. “Aye, and I just happened to notice the way you look at her when she’s not paying attention.”

Hiccup groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh, Thor.”

His father’s laughter boomed through the hall. “Relax, son. I’m only teasing.” He paused, then added with a softer tone, “But if there were something more… well, I’d be happy for you.”

Hiccup exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well. Thanks, Dad.” He shot a glance toward the door, desperate for an escape. “I should, uh… go check on Toothless. Again.”

Stoick waved him off, still grinning. “Go on, then. Just remember--dragons aren’t the only things worth chasing. Betrothal is just as important.”

Hiccup nearly tripped over his own feet on the way out.

The next day, everyone resumed training, pleased that Toothless was well again. He was the last one there, quickly saddling Toothless and climbing on. Looking up in the sky, he saw you already up there, Perseus dipping and blowing targets apart with blue flames. You giggled and cheered, praising him, your braid blowing in the frantic winds.

He could've swooned.

Tuffnut stood next to him, his arms crossed, smirking in that dumb Tuffnut sort of way.

"Wow," Tuffnut drawled, nudging Hiccup with his elbow. "You’ve got it bad."

Hiccup startled, nearly dropping Toothless’ saddle strap. "What? No I don’t." He fumbled with the buckle, refusing to look up. "I was just… assessing Perseus’ flight form. Y’know, as the resident dragon expert."

Tuffnut snorted. "Uh-huh. And I assess Fishlegs’ lunch every day before I steal it. Doesn’t mean I’m not hungry." He leaned in, grinning. "Face it, Hiccup. You’re smitten."

"I am not smitten," Hiccup hissed, finally securing the saddle and swinging onto Toothless’ back. "And even if I were--which I’m not--it’s none of your business."

Tuffnut clutched his chest dramatically. "Oh, but it is! As your best friend--"

"You’re not my best friend."

"--I have a sacred duty to point out when you’re being ridiculous." Tuffnut smirked. "And right now? You’re being ridiculous."

"Ooooh, Hiccup’s got a crush!" Ruffnut’s voice carried across the training arena as she and Astrid strolled up, both wearing matching grins.

Astrid crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought you were too busy being the ‘Dragon Master’ to notice anything else."

Hiccup groaned, rubbing his temples. "Oh, come on. You too, Astrid?"

"What? I call it like I see it," Astrid said with a smirk. "And I see you staring at Y/n like she just invented fire."

Ruffnut cackled, elbowing Tuffnut. "Told you! Even Astrid noticed!"

Hiccup’s face burned. "I do not stare--"

"You literally just sighed when she did that barrel roll," Tuffnut cut in.

"I was impressed by Perseus’ flying!" Hiccup protested weakly.

"Uh-huh," Ruffnut said, rolling her eyes. "And I’m just here for the free mead."

Astrid shook her head, still grinning. "Face it, Hiccup. You’re obvious."

Just then, you and Perseus swooped down, landing gracefully beside them. "What’s obvious?" you asked, hopping off your dragon and brushing off your tunic.

The twins exchanged exaggerated glances.

"Oh, nothing," Tuffnut said innocently. "Just Hiccup’s undying admiration for--"

"DRAGON TRAINING!" Hiccup blurted, cutting him off. "We should, uh, get back to it. Right now. Immediately."

You blinked. "…Okay?"

Toothless gave Hiccup a flat look, as if to say, Really? That’s the best you’ve got?

Astrid snorted. "Smooth, Haddock. Real smooth."

Hiccup buried his face in his hands as the twins howled with laughter.

Some days, being the future chief was really overrated.

At the end of training, Hiccup knew where to find you. Just where you usually were -- watching the sunset at the edge of the cliff with Perseus.

Your skin glowed in the orange sunlight, boot clad feet dangling from the edge as you scratched Perseus behind his ear. You hummed to an old folk song, staring out at the sun. Hiccup landed behind you, unclipping himself from his gear, before slowly starting to approach you.

Toothless, ever the mischievous wingman, nudged Hiccup forward with a low, encouraging warble, nearly sending him stumbling.

"Hey," Hiccup said, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped beside you. "Mind if I join you?"

You glanced up, smiling. "Only if you promise not to trip over your own feet this time and make Toothless dive to catch you."

"Hey, that was one time--" he protested, but you just laughed and patted the spot next to you.

Perseus rumbled in greeting as Hiccup sat down, his tail thumping against the ground like an overgrown cat’s. The sunset painted the sky in fiery golds and deep purples, the ocean below shimmering with reflected light.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Just the wind, the distant cries of dragons, and the steady rhythm of the waves.

Then;

"So," you said, bumping his shoulder playfully. "Heard you’ve been admiring my flying."

Hiccup choked. "Oh, for Thor's sake--who told you that?"

You grinned. "Let’s just say the twins aren’t great at keeping secrets."

"I’m going to strangle them," Hiccup muttered, but there was no real heat in it.

You laughed again, leaning back on your hands. "Relax. I think it’s sweet."

His heart did a weird little flip. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Another pause. Then, softer:

"I admire yours too, you know."

Hiccup turned to look at you, really look at you. The way the fading light caught in your eyes, the way your lips quirked in that half-smile he’d come to memorize.

And suddenly, all the teasing, all the nerves, none of it mattered.

Because right here, right now?

This was perfect.

Toothless and Perseus exchanged a glance, then deliberately turned their backs, giving you two the closest thing to privacy two nosy dragons could manage.

"Hiccup?"

"Yeah?'

You cleared your throat.

"I know you thought I came here to.. take your place. Dull your shine. Whatever it was, but," you started to talk, turning in his direction. "I never felt like I had a place before I got here. I was always running, trying to figure out where I belonged. You make me feel like I have a home. A place where I fit perfectly."

Hiccup’s breath caught in his throat. The way you said it, so raw, so honest, hit him like a tidal wave. For a moment, he couldn’t speak.

Then, softly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours.

"You do belong here," he said, voice rough with emotion. "And not just because of Perseus, or because you’re an amazing dragon rider--though, y’know, that definitely helps."

You laughed, but your eyes were suspiciously bright.

Hiccup swallowed, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. "You belong here because… because Berk is better with you in it. I’m better with you in it." He huffed a self-deprecating laugh. "And trust me, that’s saying something, because I was really doing well before you showed up."

You leaned into him, shoulder against shoulder, warmth seeping through the contact. "Your dad told me some stories.. about when you were younger. From what I hear, you're a lot different than you were."

Hiccup groaned, his face flushing. "Oh no. What did he tell you? Please don’t say it was the eel incident--"

You grinned, mischief dancing in your eyes. "Oh, it was definitely the eel incident."

"I was twelve!" Hiccup threw his free hand up in exasperation, but he was laughing despite himself. "And in my defense, eels are slippery."

You leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He also told me about the time you tried to impress Astrid by jumping off the Great Hall--"

"Okay, wow, I see how it is," Hiccup interrupted, shaking his head. "My own father, sabotaging me. Some chief he is."

You nudged him, still grinning. "I think it’s sweet. He’s proud of you. And he likes me."

Hiccup softened, his thumb still absently tracing circles on your hand. "Yeah, well. You’re kind of impossible not to like."

The words hung between you, quiet but weighty. The sun had fully set now, leaving only the glow of the village fires below and the endless scatter of stars above.

When he finally glanced down, he saw your e/c eyes looking back up at him. The moonlight reflected in them, your eyelids slightly low. You studied his appearance like a painting, like you'd never seen anything more detailed.

This was the first time you'd looked at him like this. The first time you looked at him like he was something other than transparent.

Hiccup’s breath hitched.

There was something new in your gaze -- something intentional, something certain -- and it sent his pulse skittering like a startled Terrible Terror. Your fingers tightened ever so slightly around his, anchoring him in the moment.

For once, Hiccup Haddock didn’t overthink.

He didn’t stumble.

He just leaned in.

Hiccup’s first brush of lips against yours was hesitant: sweet, questioning, as if he still couldn’t quite believe this was real. But when you let out a soft sigh against his mouth, something in him ignited.

His hand slid up to cradle your jaw, fingers tangling gently in your hair as the kiss deepened. Your lips parted, and the taste of him -- warm, faintly of hearth-smoke and wild mint -- sent a shiver down your spine. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, until you could feel the frantic hammer of his heartbeat against your own.

The world fell away.

There was only this: the heat of his touch, the rough calluses of his fingers against your skin, the way his breath hitched when you nipped lightly at his lower lip. A low, desperate sound escaped him, and he kissed you like he was drowning and you were air.

When you finally broke apart, gasping, his forehead rested against yours, his voice ragged.

"I’ve wanted to do that… for weeks. Ever since you first helped me with Toothless."

You smiled, thumb brushing the flushed curve of his cheekbone. "Took you long enough."

Hiccup laughed, breathless, his eyes dark and burning in the moonlight. "Yeah, well… I’m a slow learner."

"Liar," you whispered. "You’re the quickest one I’ve ever met."

His grin was wicked. "Prove it."

And then his mouth was on yours again, hungry and sure this time, swallowing your laugh as he kissed you like it was the only thing that mattered.

And maybe, just for tonight -- it was.

Until you heard slow clapping behind you. You broke apart, rolling your eyes, and turned in Hiccup's lap.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut.

"Bra-vo!" Ruffnut drawled, clapping with exaggerated slowness. "And here I thought Hiccup’s only talent was tripping over his own feet."

Tuffnut wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "So beautiful. So pure. I think I’m gonna be sick."

Hiccup groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. "I swear to Odin, if you two don’t vanish in the next three seconds--"

"Ooooh, scary!" Ruffnut cackled, elbowing her brother. "Think he’ll sic Toothless on us?"

Toothless, still sprawled dramatically on the ground, cracked one eye open--then promptly rolled onto his back, paws in the air, as if to say, Don’t involve me in this nonsense.

You sighed, twisting to smirk at Hiccup. "We could just ignore them."

Hiccup raised an eyebrow. "You think that’ll work?"

"Worth a shot."

"Actually," you smirked, "hold on."

And then -- without breaking eye contact -- you tapped Perseus's side, waking him up. His blue eyes opened slowly, then narrowed playfully. His throat released a growl, not malice, but pretending to be. His main goal was scaring the twins.

He didn't disappoint. The growl rumbled the dirt, stirring pebbles up.

The effect was instantaneous.

Tuffnut yelped, backpedaling so fast he nearly tripped over his own axe. "WHOA -- OKAY -- WE’RE LEAVING!"

Ruffnut, to her credit, stood her ground for a grand total of two seconds before Perseus exhaled an ear piercing roar.

"Alright, alright! Jeez!" She threw her hands up, but her grin was all mischief. "But just know -- this isn’t over! You two lovebirds are officially our new favorite entertainment!"

And with that, the twins bolted, their laughter fading into the night as Perseus gave a satisfied rumble and flopped back down, tail thumping like a pleased cat.

Hiccup stared after them, then turned to you, eyes wide. "…Did you just weaponize your dragon to scare off the twins?"

You shrugged, scratching Perseus under the chin. "What can I say? He’s got range."

Hiccup burst out laughing, pulling you back against him. "You," he said, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, "are terrifying."

You smirked. "And you love it."

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice soft. "I really do."

And as Perseus and Toothless settled in beside you -- one pretending to sleep, the other already actually snoring -- Hiccup decided something:

If this was what the future looked like?

Politically speaking, sending someone other than Hiccup or the dragon riders could be viewed as Berk looking down on the tribe asking for help. On the other hand, someone inexperienced could make matters worse with the dragons in question. 

There was Valka, you supposed, she met all of the criteria as far as experience and status were concerned, but while her dragon skills were unmatched—except for maybe Hiccup— her people skills could still use some work.

So, yes, generally, you understood why you were here instead of someone else. You even understood why Hiccup had insisted you join him. Not that you would have let him go alone. He was prone to getting in trouble when left alone for prolonged periods of time. 

What you didn’t understand was why you were having a strategic meeting with this tribe about the dragon problem. Usually, you would go to wherever you were called to calm down the dragons, inspect the area for what is causing them to act out aggressively and proceed to lecture the villagers about what, why and how the problem occurred in the first place. 

You have been here for what felt like hours listening to the chief go on and on about things you were far too bored and uninterested in to pay attention to. You were sure that you zoned out at some point, only coming back to reality after Hiccup had taken hold of your hand, tagging at it softly. 

“So glad to see that you are back with us.” The sarcastic voice of the man sitting across from you rang in your ears. He was clearly displeased with your lack of attention. 

“Yeah… um, my mind drifted for a moment. I apologise.” You said not really feeling apologetic, but trying to appease the man on the other side of the table nonetheless. 

“It is alright.” His voice sounded rough and aged. “Not everyone can follow along with complex discussions.” He smiled condescendingly. 

The bastard wasn’t even trying to be tactful with his remarks. 

“Must be all the repetitions and dancing around the subject.” You said quickly, stopping Hiccup from answering.

Your hold on his hand tightened as he turned to look at you. He looked confused and a little concerned. Why were you stopping him? There was no reason to indulge this charade if this was how you were gonna be treated. 

You ran your thumb across his arm soothingly, holding his gaze, looking calm, trying to show that it’s okay. 

Hiccup’s lips pressed to a thin line, tightening his own hand around yours. 

“Perhaps you lack your chief’s ability to comprehend difficult words.” The chief’s voice ruined the tender moment.

There was a meaning to be had here. Someone of your station shouldn’t be present in a meeting between chiefs. Other than the obvious insult to your intelligence. Again.

Oh, so that’s how he wants to play it. “Perhaps the problem is that, unlike my chief—” Gods, calling Hiccup by his title felt beyond wrong—“you lack the ability to be concise and to the point.” 

Hiccup watched the exchange with his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. So much for diplomatic relations.

“Watch your words, little girl.” The chief raised his voice, getting up from his chair, wood scraping against wood from the force. 

“Or what?” You get up, placing your hands on the table. Your eyes pinned on his, extending a challenge that, realistically speaking… you… would lose.

Hiccup let out a tiny groan as he also got up, placing a hand in front of each of you, trying to keep you both apart. “Aaaalright. I think we are getting way off subject. How about we take a break and get back after we all have—”

“You need to be more mindful of your people, Hiccup.” The chief turned his attention to Hiccup. “I can understand that love can make you want to be lenient, but even your loved ones are not above your rule.” He spoke with such conviction, like he was trying to teach and reprimand Hiccup at the same time. “You might be new to this, but you need to learn. Don’t insult your father’s legacy, boy.” 

Your mouth dropped open. The entire hut fell silent for a second. 

“I’m gonna wipe the floor with you. You sad old man.” You said as you moved to jump across the table towards certain death.

“NO!” Hiccup yelled quickly, wrapping his arms around your middle. “No, no, no, no.” He kept repeating as he tried to move towards him. 

“Is this how you establish the law, boy? Get your girlfriend out of my face!” The chief yelled again. “And since she is so prone to acting wild, it is best to have her wait outside with the dragons.” He added, just as Hiccup had managed to get you away from the table and to his side. 

“First of all.” Hiccup’s voice rose as well. “She is my wife.” He emphasised. “And let me be clear that in this situation, you are asking us for help. It would be best to remember that every indulgence and goodwill that has been extended towards you that has nothing to do with your dragon problem has been because of my wife.” 

The chief was looking at Hiccup, surprised. You, on the other hand, felt rather smug about this particular turn of events. 

“We have wasted enough time here. We will deal with the actual reason for our visit now.”

He was so hot like this… You are definitely fucking him once you are back on Berk.

…

Damn your brain does not know how timing works.

He moved to leave the hut, taking hold of your hand and leading you outside with him. You threw a pleased look at the chief as you moved and batted your eyes, letting the feeling of victory radiate from you and further the old man’s shock.

Hiccup kept walking after you were both outside, not slowing his pace or letting go of your hand. Once he deemed that good enough, he suddenly stopped and turned to face you. 

He looked like he was about to say something, looking like a storm was held at the edge of his tongue. Instead, he just let out a deep exhale and let his head fall to your shoulder.

“I can’t believe you just did that.” 

“Really? I thought I held back for quite a long time.” You said, running your fingers through his hair. 

Hiccup let out a weak laugh, putting his hands around your waist. “Still though…” 

“Still what? I think I did us both a favour. Now we can get on to doing what we actually came for and then go home.” You said feigning innocence. 

“You will be the end of all of Berk’s diplomatic relations.” He mumbled, giving you a quick peck on the lips. 

“Not all,” you said, giving him another kiss. “Just the annoying ones.”

24.08: lol ty

Having that scar over your eye had always made you insecure. It wasn't just because it looked horrible, there were other reasons for that. One of them being that it was a reminder that your face wouldn't look that same again, always having that ugly patch.

The other grounds for it were the way that Vikings—also known as (pardon the bluntness) meatheads with a hard comprehension for being. . . particularly emotionally adept—didn't know how to mask their emotions, and that the only expression that would grace their face when they see you was always in pitiful smiles, and more often than not, thinly masked disgust.

You would think that now that Berkian's learned to be in peace with literal Dragons, they'd also learn to be more emotionally sensitive, but you'd guess wrong.

But going back to Dragons. Those big, ferocious creatures had always made you antsy. Especially when you were younger—with all the ghost-stories that the kids would always rumor around, and the dead-man's tales that the older people in Berk would sing about in the Great Hall, it had given you the chills. You were all too scared by them.

Maybe a bit too scared.

A bit too scared that when you were mature enough—mature being sixteen years old—to be ordered to fight them off in one of their ambushes before they were domesticated, all those anecdotes and tales fled back to you, making your legs tremble then go stiff.

With the opening you had given it, one of the vicious reptiles had tried to bite your face clean off. Without Gothi's help—or more like her trusty staff and her good swing—you were sure you would've died.

But still, after all these years, you aren't too sure if that was a good thing. Now you're left with a wound that would never go away, a timeless reminder that you were frightened, and you didn't do anything to protect yourself.

A unaging memento of weakness.

It was all too much for a teenager like yourself, always being perceived as a poor soul, seen as an unfortunate example for Vikings that not thinking fast enough would wind up to look like you.

So, you did what all teenagers do when they didn't want to confront something—you hide it away. And that's exactly why you're wearing an eyepatch, well—a makeshift one, thanks to Gothi, who made you a simple cloth eyepatch. Gods bless her soul.

You looked more like an injured survivor, but it was better than people seeing you like you were some kind of weirdo—as if walking around with an eyepatch wasn't any less weird, but the Vikings found it less odd.

But still, jeers from your age group didn't cease. They lessened, but the subject topic of their jokes had shifted. From you being too weak of a Viking—if you could still call yourself a Viking—to being name called as a pirate. All of it just made you more inclined to stay inside.

Well, it was better than being mocked as weak, so you take that as a win.

And that's how it's currently been now, with you in the Great Hall, and with your exceptionally unfortunate luck, the only table vacant being next to a group of teenagers.

Oh, It's those Dragon Riders.

You haven't seen them in a while—you've presumed it was because they were busy at some place that you overheard them calling Dragon's Edge. But even with the lengthened time of not seeing them, you still remembered their names. They probably didn't know yours, but you didn't mind.

You were never really close to them, not that you bothered to be close—you didn't ever see yourself being in their circle, but you had hoped they didn't have the same reactions to you like the others when they notice you eating at the table next to theirs.

You wished they didn't sense your presence; or more specifically your eyepatch concealing your scar, but when they did notice, their hushed dialogue—is it still called hushed dialogue if you're talking this loudly?—had shifted to you, and who you were.

"She's pretty odd, when I first saw her, I thought she was supposed to be a pirate." You had heard Snotlout's voice boom from their friend's table next to your empty one. Even without looking at the Viking, you could already tell from the dripping ignorance in his voice that he was smiling, as if he was proud that he had called you that.

You didn't care enough to turn your head, just continuing to shovel food in your mouth, but you had heard a clear thonk! of wood hitting something metalic—you'd presume a mug making hard contact with his helmet.

"Ow." The boy whined.

"Sorry, my arm cramped." Astrid had apologized, with the tone of not being apologetic at all.

"Snotlout." You had heard Hiccup's voice warn his cousin. Even if Hiccup tried to warn him, it would be fruitless, because you knew Vikings like Snotlout—and Vikings like him didn't stop with just warnings. But still, the gesture had still made you smile.

"What? It's just strange, y'know? She barely talks too, like some kind of ghost."

"Snotlout, drop it." Now Astrid was trying to make him stop. You wanted to thank her for that, but maybe not now.

"What if she's some kind of ghost pirate? Like, haunting our village." Ruffnut commented.

"I heard that you could ward off ghosts with salt," Tuffnut had added.

"Ooo, does it work with ghost pirates too?" Her twin had asked, curious.

"We'll have to test it out, like an experiment." The blonde boy had raised a finger, as if to look more academically inclined.

"Okay, guys, I don't think—" Hiccup's voice had seemed nervous, but he didn't get to finish.

"Cool, let's try it." The blonde girl had entertained. The twins had gotten the salt from a bowl, a handful in both their fists, ready to lob it at you.

This time, you were actually amused enough to look at their table, observing each face, but not letting a word out.

Somewhat surprised that you had looked at them, the two Vikings had tried to cover up their mischief, one of them putting the salt in their mouth, and the other throwing it behind them, evidently covering Fishlegs and Hiccup in a good sprinkle of seasoning.

You were quite confused—more so, a bit peeved that Snotlout was talking about you like that, but you didn't pay attention to it too much. Turning back to your food, they seemed to match your actions as well—but not with Snotlout getting the last word in, albeit a little bit whispered, but not enough to be quiet.

"See? I'm just saying; no talking, no expression—Ghost behavior, I tell you." Snotlout leaned into the table to whisper, but it really did seem futile with that loud mouth of his.

Not wanting to hear any more of his or anyone else’s slight mockery, you stood up, the long bench chair you were sitting on skidding as you push out of your sitting position and walking out the Great Hall, but not before burning a glare at the teens.

You really didn’t mean to scowl at the whole table, you were only going to throw a dirty look at Snotlout.

It genuinely wasn't your intention to, especially with how the other teens had done nothing remotely wrong—some even trying to halt the discussion—but with just one eye as your vision, you couldn't help but just look at them all with a stink eye.

But you didn't care anymore, you just wanted to get away. You went to the Great Hall to eat for Thor's sake, not to be gossiped about like a spectacle. Stomping off to the exit, you didn't care enough to hear the scolding Snotlout and The Twins—but mainly just the sable-haired Viking—had to hear.

"Great job with that, Snotlout. Now she stormed off," Astrid chided.

"What did I do?"

"I think we should apologize, or one of us at least." Fishlegs meekly let out, finally speaking after the girl had walked out on all of them. All the while that this was happening, Ruffnut seemed to be spewing out the salt she'd hidden in her mouth at the side of the table, trying to blow raspberries to remove all of the saline taste from her mouth.

Astrid had looked to Hiccup, with them locking eyes. She had silently gestured for him, nodded to the door and her eyebrows raising, basically saying 'Dude, this is your chance, c'mon'. The brunet Viking had quickly understood, slightly nodding.

"Pretty sure you're right Fishlegs. I think I should catch up with her guys, she seemed pretty upset." Hiccup had already started to get up from his seat, starting to jog to the large door of the Great Hall.

They had watched him speed-walk away, hoping that he could reach her before he loses sight of her. The Dragon Riders had gone back to eating, with The Twins still trying to goof around, throwing their food at each other, and Fishlegs reading while scooping food to his mouth.

"I still don't understand what I said wrong," Snotlout had muttered, pushing his soup around in his bowl.

"Snotlout, I swear if you don't stop talking, I will hit you harder with my mug." Astrid threatened, who was right next to him.

"I thought you said that was an accident?"

"Keep talking and my fist will accidentally punch you."

You were speed walking with a tired expression on your face. You didn't even get to eat a lot of your food. Why did you have to storm off like that? You've endured much more scathing insults, but you suppose it hurt more that they were talking about you literally on the next table over. Now you're hungry and annoyed.

Just great.

You had almost made it to the ascending stairs, the way to Gothi's hut. You were about to go up before you heard someone try to call you, paired with the sound of quick pattering steps and the clanking of metal hitting the ground.

You presumed that it was Hiccup, since no one really had a metal leg in Berk, and that distinct voice he had that singled him out from the other Vikings. You looked over your shoulder before turning your whole body, seeing him catch up with you before putting his hands on his knees in exhaustion.

"Hey! Wait a sec—wow you can walk really fast," He uttered between breaths.

". . . Uh, hi?" You were entirely unsure of what to say. You'd never been in this type of situation before.

He had dusted his knees off and stood normally, his exhaustion finally subsiding, he waved awkwardly.

"Hey there, I wanted to apologize—Snotlout's just, he's the type of guy that just. . . says things, y'know? Don't take it too seriously," He shrugged.

"Don't be sorry, it's fine," You waved him off, dismissed his apology, and turned back to walk up the stairs. But your ascension up had been paused, especially with what Hiccup said.

"No, it's not, actually. Please just let me apologize about him, 'cause I know he won't."

"I assure you, it's fine." You insisted, but it genuinely wasn't. But you didn't want someone trying to apologize to you for someone else's actions.

You had tried to walk up quicker, but he seemed just fine matching your pace.

"At least just— let me accompany you up to Gothi's hut, as an apology of sorts. . .? Please?" Hiccup seemed to be unsure in what he was saying, you were 100 times confident that he didn't plan what he was saying to you, just blurting out what came to his mind to stop you from leaving him in the dust.

You found it amusing, so you allowed it. Now, he was walking with you up to Gothi's.

But what you didn't find amusing—was him trying to make small talk. The other people at Berk never really tried making dialogue with you, but maybe that's also your fault, with how jaded and distant you seemed from them. The only time they ever talked to you was to voice their concerns about their health and ask you to help them.

So now here you were, trying to reply as normal as possible to Hiccup's questions.

"Are you uh— hurt anywhere?"

"Huh?" Your steps slowed, with Hiccup matching yours.

Then you understood what he meant. He was asking if you were injured because you were going up to Gothi's. Your steps had paced normal again, with Hiccup trying to match your steps.

"Ooh, no. I'm just her assistant. . . I think so? It's not official, but it's kind of like that, I guess. I take care of the hurt patients who come up here if she's away."

"Oh, that's cool."

"Uh-huh. . ." You replied, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

"You stay up there a lot, right? I don't see you a lot anymore." He smiled a little.

Anymore?

You didn't want to interrupt this casual dialogue, so you reply normally.

"Uh, yeah, I— I do. I pretty much moved all my stuff there so the others wouldn't see me much. Surprisingly, not everyone wants to see this," You pointed at your eyepatch.

"Really?" Hiccup listened, the way he looked so focused on you made you want to say things even more.

"Yeah, who knew? I guess not everyone wants to see a hideous scar when they go on to do their morning jobs. Crazy, right?" Your sarcasm was dripping from your voice, but you went on even more.

"It's not even exposed anymore, I covered it, but they're still weirded out. I'm pretty sure this time they're the weird ones at this point." Your arms had raised in action, expressive as ever.

Hiccup's hums of agreement and gentle smile had spurred you on even more to rant. You weren't sure what it was—maybe it's because finally someone had wanted to listen and look at you like a normal person, not some pitiful weak Viking.

"Might as well just bandage my whole face so they don't see me. I think I should change my eyepatch if they're still feeling odd about me, maybe that's it, I dunno. . . I don't really have the skill for it, though." You had shrugged.

"But I swear, if they still look at me funny when I do wear something else, I think I'll just give up and accept my title as a ghost pirate and haunt our village—just like your friends were saying." You looked at him, concluding your rant. Hiccup softly chuckled at your attempt at a joke, and it made you heart smile.

You both were almost at your mentor's porch when he went silent, as if he was thinking of something. Just a couple of steps left, and you were there. You were pretty satisfied with how you both weren't speaking, just a soft, gentle tranquility accompanying both of you.

But then, Hiccup had piped up.

"Well. . . If you were, let's just say, hypothetically; you had the chance to change it, what would it look like?"

You were puzzled by the random question. Was he trying to entertain you? You looked at him, and looked away in thought, before going back to look at green observant eyes.

"Well hypothetically speaking; I guess I'd make it out of leather with something to cushion it inside? That way it wouldn't really hurt on my skin." You had mused, your steps slowing as you had made it to the last step of your mentor's stairs.

"And maybe some kind of design on it? I feel like it would look nice if I put our tribe's insignia, I'm not sure, but maybe just something. . ." Your eyebrows furrowed in focus, your thumb rubbing against the pads of your fingers, a habit that helped you to think.

"Nice-looking, I guess. Maybe it'd take attention away from. . . Yeah." Your body went lax, feeling kind of shy. You realized you were getting too into it, remembering it was just a hypothetical question.

"Well, I'll be sure to remember that." He didn't seem mind one bit, that you went on a whole speech, and just smiled back at your timid stature. You didn't know what he meant by what he said, but you smiled back at him anyway.

You had made it to the top. He had paused a step before you, now slightly looking up at you. You had turned around, fiddling with your hands.

"So. . ." You didn't really know what to say next. See you around? Does this make us friends? Your apology's accepted? You weren't really prepared to being put in a social situation like this. Well, you weren't prepared for any social situation for that, with how little you talked with others, but anyway.

Thankfully, Hiccup had spoke, because you were sure if you had enough silence, you'd just end up saying something silly.

"I'll see you, around then. . .?" He had gone up the last step so he could be at your height, and rubbed the nape of his neck, waiting for your reply.

"Uhm— yeah! Thank you, by the way— for the. . . Coming with me, I— I guess," You sputtered, but had recovered, a soft grin with crinkled eyes lay on your face.

"I'll be going now. . . Yep," You pointed behind you and started to walk backwards, hopefully reaching Gothi's door. But that plan would fall flat when you tripped over some stray bottle that had fallen from the table.

"Woah!"

The split second you had before you fell you saw from your peripheral that if you stumbled just a little bit more, you'd fall off the tower.

Just incredible, what a way to go.

You closed your eyes, ready for the impact of the air hitting you as you fall down, but you were surprised to feel a weight jump on you, tackling you to inches away from to edge.

"Umph!" Hiccup's voice had jolted out.

You open your eyes in caution; to see Hiccup lying on you, his head tucked in your neck. You were close—a little too close. You can smell his scent, the way his breathing pattern was heavy from lunging at you, his hair which seemed messy and unkempt from flying, but he still managed to make it look good.

"Gothi should really add a safety railing," He mumbled into your neck. It gave you goosebumps.

You expected yourself to be weirded out, but you weren't. You were just flustered, now thinking about it. Hiccup practically glomped you—yes, to safety, but that wasn't the point—and you were both stuck in this position, with the Dragon Rider still lying on you.

You supposed he felt how tense you were—assuming you felt odd in the position you were in and tried to prop himself up with his hand.

"Oh! Yeah sorry," Unintentionally, he had grabbed your waist in support, maybe a wee bit hard, earning him a surprised oh! from you.

Realizing his mistake, he let go immediately, as if he had touched a hot furnace. But given that it was his only means of support to give him balance, him letting go had consequently made him fall onto you again, his head almost meeting yours, but missing.

But what didn't miss though, was his lips falling onto your cheek. It felt surreal, something you've never experienced—a kiss, happening literally right before your eyes. Accidental, yes, but it still made you blush furiously. But it seems as if he didn't notice, or chose not to, picking your comfort first.

"Oh Thor, sorry about that, let me just," Hiccup tried to get up again, his hand already trying to prop itself on the floor, but you stopped him, grabbing his forearm.

"No, just— just stay still. I'll move instead." He nodded bashfully at your request, you guess he also felt nervous feeling the gravity of the position you're in.

You nudged his leg with your own, so he could move it up, and then you maneuvered yourself out.

You both stand up, dusting yourself off while he fixed his tunic that went askew when he was laying on you.

"She really should add a railing," You reply.

"Yeah,"

Again, a calm silence had covered you both, a lingering of eyes at each other, observing the latter.

You didn't want to keep him longer, maybe he was busy. So, you sent him off.

"Now this is officially 'i'll see you later'." You threw finger guns at him as you shyly grinned and waved, the gestures reciprocated by the brunet Viking, before you went into Gothi's hut, the last glimpse of him walking down the stairs before you closed the door.

You smile to yourself as you look at the door, before leaning your head on it. You placed a delicate hand on your right cheek, where his lips had accidentally placed themselves on.

First kiss. Cheek kiss, yeah, but who cares?

Your smile grew wide as you quietly chuckled. If anyone saw you right now, they'd probably think you were being weird—well, weirder. But you were in the comforting silence of Gothi's hut, with no one to perceive you.

Turning around, you swear you has actually jumped out of your skin, your joyous expression replaced with one of shock.

"GAH! Gothi, you. . ." You clenched your heart, before trying to even your heartbeat.

"Really need to make a sound so I know you're there. I almost died," Your hand had dropped back down. You were exaggerating clearly, Gothi knew that as well, rolling her eyes. She had gotten off the stool she was on and nodded to the door, walking up to you.

Having enough time spent with the old woman, you already knew she was gesturing for you to ask what happened out there.

"Oh, I just tripped over a bottle, I almost fell down the tower, y'know? Hiccup was there with me too; he was apologizing for something Snotlout did." You had explained, a smile had graced your face when you brought the Dragon Rider up.

"I didn't want him to apologize, but he insisted, so he accompanied me up here. So, back to me falling—He helped me so I wouldn't fall from the tower, he practically lunged at me. He's pretty. . . nice. He's got a nice smile, too. I haven't seen him or the others in a while, it was a nice change. Anyway," You had walked over to the shelf of books the hut had, trying to find a book on botany to brush up your knowledge. You were trying to focus, looking at the titles on the spines of the books, before you felt Gothi stare at you, a knowing stare paired with a growing smile as if she was teasing you.

You looked back to meet her gaze and smiled innocently.

"Okay, What?" You had giggled, as if you didn't know. But you knew she was teasing you. Maybe you really shouldn't have talked about him like you were crushing on him.

Not that you weren't.

Gothi raised her eyebrow, still grinning at her assistant, not believing it for a second.

"He's just a friend, Gothi—a passerby, even. Nothing more." You concluded, busying yourself with actually finding the book, and you eventually did. Pulling the book out with a swift motion before going to a vacant chair on her dining table, opening to a random page to read with the book close to your face, trying to remain as unaffected as possible.

Gothi had seemed let it go, coming up to her student and patting her head, a comforting habit they had grown to enjoy in the comfort of her home.

The Viking healer had gone up the stairs, supposedly to feed the Terrible Terrors. Once she was out of your peripheral vision, you had leaned back on the back of the seat, book covering a quarter of your face as you looked up to the ceiling.

What the Thor just happened?

You tried to recall the latest events that had occurred with the brunet boy, looking back to the most memorable parts—well, most memorable to you.

You replay the moment where you both had accidentally were on the floor, especially the events after that. Your cheeks were going flush as you naturally smiled, the book being your cover, your eyes closing as you replay the moment.

He seemed like someone you'd like to be seeing more often. What was it about him that made you so. . . allured? You only had one meeting together, but why did you feel so pulled to him?

Was it because this was one of the only normal conversations that someone had treated you like a human being? No, you already felt like that with Gothi, but it was something else.

You wouldn't deny that Hiccup was. . . For a lack of better words, an attractive dude. He grew in well, his height really elevating him, paired with his babyface growing more chiseled, evolving him from a cute and charming boy who was also quite handsome.

But just because you liked him now for that, doesn't mean you didn't have a crush on him before. It was before every one had actually believed in him.

You'd watch from afar as he courageously proven his worth, showing that he is so much more than what the village painted him to be. He was. . . really cute back then too. And the way he was sarcastic and witty, you liked that as well. You would never tell him back then about it, and you probably never tell him now.

Sighing into the book, you shake your head in disapproval.

What am I thinking? I need to read this, not think about him like some kind of lovesick yak.

You sit upright now, actually retaining the information of the contents in the book, but not before putting an imaginary tab in your thoughts to revisit the subject about the brunet Viking.

"Gothi told me you needed my help?" You stick your head in first, peeking inside before going in fully. Walking into the Blacksmith's Shop, you saw Hiccup, working away at some new invention for him and Toothless.

He had turned to you, his eyes slightly crinkling with a satisfied smile.

"Yeah, I do," He walked some steps to where the tools had been stored, and pulled out something you couldn't tell what it was, his body covering the tool.

He faced you again, before speaking.

"C'mere." He spoke quickly, now unraveling the hidden object—a measuring tape.

Huh?

"What? Hiccup, what are you doing?" You asked, tiredness coating your voice, crossing your arms and tilting you head slightly.

"I need to measure you. Now, come here." He beckoned again, gesturing to you to come closer. He had put more pressure in the command, but smiling gently to not look like he was trying to be domineering—not to say you didn't like it.

You had rolled your eyes playfully, dropping your arms and marching up to him, a little too close, your chest just mere inches apart.

But he didn't tell you to step back.

"Measure me for what?" You shrugged in confusion, but he didn't answer your question, he just gave you another request.

"Stay still, okay?" Without another beat, he hovers both arms on your shoulders. If his arms were a little lower, placed on the curve of your shoulder. But you wouldn't mind. You imagined that they looked like they would fit there. As if it was in its rightful place.

Fiddling with the measuring tape to get the right side, he instinctively leaned into the side, hovering over your face. You observed him, your eyes following his face as he was working, a little too observed—you'd say yourself, noticing the scattered freckles kissed on his face, the small cut a few inches under his lips.

You never noticed he had a scar on his chin; it looked quite cute.

A little shocked—more like flustered—you had lifted your head an inch, as a means to back away. He noticed, halting his movements and looking you in the eyes.

Locking eyes with his, those eyes. Oh, his eyes. They enraptured you; like the gentle breath of the air hitting your skin, the viridescent irises, dull like olives, yet alluring as much.

His gaze was on you, before grazing over your features—the way your cheeks were flushed presumably from the heat of the Blacksmith's Shop, the slow fluttering of your eyelashes as you blinked as if you were being cautious, and then your lips.

It was only for a brief moment, but as you saw his eyes glance down, your lips parted in bewilderment. He seems to have caught on, blinking quickly, slightly pursing his lips in struggle, and turning his head back to the job at hand.

The soft material of the measuring tape had wrapped around the circumference of your head, Hiccup looking as if he took a mental note, before changing the angle of the measuring tape, diagonally over your head, from the side of your head all the way to under your ear.

After finishing, he lets go of the measuring tape, and his arms drop down to his sides.

"Well. . .?" You tilted your head slightly, your arms crossing once more. It was a pass at him, as if to reignite your previous questions, hoping he understood the memo.

Rest assured he did not understand the memo.

"Well, that was it. Thanks." Shooting you a soft smile, before turning around to put what he was using back to its rightful place, before looking at you with a grin.

If Hiccup wasn't so charmingly cute with the sheepish simper of his and if he was just like all the other Vikings, you would have hit him with the closest thing in your vicinity.

Ignore the first part of your thought, you weren't supposed to be thinking about that right now.

Instead of going for the gruesome part of that pondering, you close your eyes in slight irritation.

"So, let me get this straight; you order Gothi to call me, you lie and say that you needed my help, make me walk all the way down the stairs, just to measure me?"

"Okay, I know it sounds bad right now—" Hiccups quick to defend himself, his hands raising as if to show innocence.

"More like weird, but sure," You add.

"But I swear," His arms extend to you, grabbing your shoulders delicately. It felt nice, being treated like that from him.

"It will make sense tomorrow." He squeezed your shoulders in assurance, hoping you'd believe him. It didn't make you believe him, more like make your brain short circuit that would force you to say the only thing you knew how to.

"Just trust me, okay?" He looked like a puppy, asking its owner to pet him. He looked genuine, as if he wasn't capable of treating you brashly, only carefully.

Not being able for your mind to process anything else but him clutching you on each side, combined with the way his eyes kissed your gaze, you replied with an unfocused agreement.

"O— Okay," You smile at his kind eyes, his own lips reciprocating.

And that's where it ended. You didn't really remember exiting the shop, or walking back, just laying yourself on the bed, the cushion of your pillow the only thing bringing you out of your trance.

You still couldn't understand why he brought you all the way down just to measure your head, but you didn't want to complain—nope, scratch that. You didn't have the mind to complain.

Maybe it's 'cause of your teenage brain, the hormones in your mind thinking about boys, the most decent one out of them, your head full of him even when he wasn't there. Yes, just science, definitely because of that.

But then your thought floats back to the previous events; his gaze on yours, looking at your facial features, before going to your lips, then going back again to his work, slightly flushed on his cheeks from the heat of the Forge.

You smile at the thought.

Yep, just hormones.

"Just keep having your eyes— uh, eye closed," Hiccup had almost tripped over himself trying to drag you up the stairs with your vision blocked, especially since you were just walking aimlessly in the direction he was leading you to.

"If this is something stupid again and you're measuring my arm's next, Hiccup, I will throw something at you." Your one hand was still covering you left eye, with the other holding his hand.

That snark from you didn't earn an eyeroll from him, but a soft chuckle.

"I promise it's not,"

You wanted to smile, the feeling of his fingertips brushing against yours felt sparking, and the way he squeezed them when in assurance that he was still there made you melt, but you didn't want to focus on that right now.

"Okay, we're here." You feel the terrain under your feet change, the stone clacking on your boots now turning soft, dampened. You suppose he took you inside somewhere.

"That was good, but we're going to have to go up the stairs again, okay?"

Getting tired of this whole charade, you finally let down your hand.

"Okay, Hiccup, what are we. . ."

That was as far as you could get in your sentence, your attention now focused on the location you were in.

It seemed to be the Chief's hut, where Hiccup and Stoick reside, and you were at the front of the stairs. You've never been in here, but with the small bits and pieces you've seen from the moment the door was wide open, you could pinpoint that he had took you here.

"No wait I—" He had panicked, the other hand that was free going behind him.

"Why are we here. . .?" You questioned as you looked at him, and then the hand behind his back.

"And what's behind you?" You tilted your head, trying to take a peek at what he was hiding, but he just shuffled back to hide it more.

"Nothing, my hand's just cramping, y'know. . .?" He laughed, and that was definitely what made you believe he was lying, your face going deadpan.

"Hiccup." Your tone had gone into a warning, arms crossed, and your eyebrow raised.

Looking at you once more to check if there was a sliver of a chance that you'd let it go, he sighed, his shoulders dropping. He slowly let his hand out, with something in his fist.

"It was supposed to be a surprise in my room where it's private, but I guess it still is secluded here."

He opened his palm and presented it to you.

An eyepatch. It was crafted from leather, a nice sleek brown color, with a star-like embossing, reminding you of the stars of a compass. Turning the eyepatch around, you see a soft fabric, supposed to cushion around the eyepatch to prevent harsh rubbing on the skin. You turned it around and examined it more as he talked again.

"I tried to make it to what you wanted—"

You lifted your head and looked at him, then to the side in thought as you recalled what he was talking about. He was listening that time. He was taking account of your ideas, and he was actually listening to you.

You were silent and turned your eyes back at him as he explained more.

"If you don't— If you don't like it. . . I can make it again," He mistook your silence for disgust, and rubbed his arm in nervousness.

"Hiccup, no," You stepped closer to him, and took both his hands in yours, the eyepatch forgotten about as you held it between his hands.

"I like it." Your grin grew as his face had started to contort into relief.

"Y— You do?" He was smiling now, and that just made you giggle.

"Yes, I do!" You couldn't contain what you felt, and clutched his hands in yours in assurance, earning you a small kiss of red on his cheeks as he smiled back.

"I like it so much, I could kiss— kiss you. . ." Your joyous face had contorted into horror, your eyes avoiding his immediately, with your voice weakening at the last part when you realize what you just said.

Hiccup's face had also matched yours, but not horror, with shock. Like something he could've never expected came out of your mouth.

"What?" He uttered. His face was unreadable, but that just made you all the more upset.

"Sorry, that was. . . weird. I'll go, " You dismissed yourself quickly and had immediately let go of the hold of his hands, but he had immediately snatched them back in his grasp.

The unexpected action had made your troubled face look to him, and you were surprised to see his painted with worry and panic.

"Don't go, okay? I wouldn't. . ." He hesitated with his choice of words, making you curious.

"You wouldn't. . .?" You waited for him to say what he wanted patiently, but what he said made your shoulders go lax, relieved.

"I said I wouldn't. . . mind," He mumbled the last word, but you heard it loud and clear. It felt confusing, but you were happy nonetheless trying to put the pieces together.

He wouldn't mind. . . Kissing you?

It gave your stomach literal flutters, as if multiple Night Terrors had taken refuge in there, flying about.

You didn't want to assume, you wanted him to say it.

"What?" You acted oblivious, a smile gracing your face.

"I said I wouldn't mind," He muttered it with more confidence, but still with a tad bit of hesitance.

"You. . . Wouldn't mind what?" Your eyebrows furrowed in faux confusion.

He sighed in slight irritation, but he felt like he was being teased this time.

"Do I really have to say it all, out loud?" He said with deadpan, and you nodded eagerly, the mask of confusion pulled off.

He held your hands and pulled you closer, his eyes meeting your gaze. He understood now that you were just acting confused.

"I wouldn't mind you kissing me, okay?" He smiled, and you mirrored him, slightly laughing and nodding.

"You get it now? I even said it all out loud for you—"

He was cut off, the feeling of your lips on his had made his voice die in his throat, with his eyes fluttering close. You didn't plan it, but the way he looked in the light of the nearby crackling fire had graced his had made him look so. . . Kissable. You couldn't help it.

You stayed in that position for a few seconds, before you pulled away, his hands still intertwined with yours.

"I get it now, crystal clear." You taunted, a grin and a small breathy chuckle leaving you.

But he didn't reply, only a smile expressing that he was as happy as you. Before you could say anything else, he pulled you in again. One hand leaving yours to cradle your cheek.

This kiss lasted longer, and you both pulled away only mere inches to see each other. The way you both looked ecstatic, your grins and crinkled eyes looking at each other, as if you could stay with him forever.

But this moment didn't last forever, with the door suddenly bursting open, revealing Hiccup's burly, large, and intimidating father, Stoick and seeing the rather incriminating position you both were put in.

You immediately pulled away from each other, as if you both were the same polarity of a magnet, trying to cover yourselves up and salvage what was left of both your dignities.

"So, thanks Hiccup for. . . Helping me with that—" Dusting yourselves off as you went to the door to exit, Hiccup trailing behind you.

"Yeah, it's fine, it wasn't a big deal—" He waved you off.

"I really should go now, I think Gothi's calling me right about now. . . Oh, hi Chief, didn't see you there. . .!" You quickly greet, your pitch going a bit higher as you scurry out of the space between the Chief and the doorway.

Stoick had greeted you, a gruff 'Hello' sufficing and finally moving so his son could follow you up to the porch of the door, watching the whole scene unravel.

You had started walking away, but not before looking back and waving goodbye.

"Uhm— goodbye, Hiccup," You smiled as you waved, your cheeks flushed from the embarrassment and the heat of the moment that had just happened.

Hiccup wasn't looking too good either, his freckled face slightly kissed with red, his grin a little dopey, weakly waving back.

You had made it far enough from the hut that you were alone with your thoughts.

What just happened?

You couldn't comprehend where a lot of it came from, but you knew one thing, and it made you giddy;

This was the blooming start of something new between you two.

BONUS ⋆˚✿˖°

Today was one of the best days of Hiccup's life—he kissed you, the girl he had a crush on his whole teenage life, and you like him. You actually liked him back.

And not just being one of the best days of his life, but some of the rarest; as the patriarch of the household, Stoick the Vast, had surprisingly ate with his son at supper.

The dinner table was filled with wood clunking against each other and mouth's chewing, not wanting to address the large Bewilderbeast in the room, until it was interrupted by Stoick's rough voice.

"So, how's your girlfriend son?"

Hiccup had choked on the soup that was in his mouth, coughing quite violently.

"Dad— that wasn't— We aren't—" Hiccup tried to let out his defense, but the soup still in his throat had made it all the more harder, punching his chest to speak properly.

"It's okay, son, I understand," Stoick had put a hand in defeat.

"You're at the right age already, and I shouldn't stop you," His father shrugged, and Hiccup didn't have the energy to defend himself anymore, just letting his old man talk all he wanted to until it ended.

But what his father said next made him jump up to talk, immediately wanting this to end.

"But I guess it's time I should teach you this now son," He put a hand on his son's shoulder in affirmation.

"About fornication— or birds and the bees, whatever they call it now," He finished.

Yep, Hiccup might just implode inside right now.

He groaned and covered his ears.

"Okay, Dad, it's fine—"

"I know it won't happen, son— You're a responsible, young Viking, but all the more reason to tell you. What if something happens?" His father ignored his pleas as he shrugged.

"Okay, Dad, I think you should stop." Now covering his eyes, because he cannot believe what is actually happening right now, he lets out a big sigh as he gives up, letting his father rant about being 'safe' and knowing the 'responsibility' of their actions.

He thought of something else to let his mind wander, and it eventually led to you. He smiled under his hands, but it wasn't enough to drown out his father's lecture.

"But I know when you do, you'd be a great parent, son—" Hiccup cut his father off, groaning at him.

"Oh, Dad. . ." A tired tone lacing his voice.

But he didn't mind, because all of this happened because you kissed him. And he wouldn't take it for anything else.

Well, maybe exclude the 'birds and the bees' talk he already knew well about.

He was a teenager, after all.

lmao W for stoick tryna teach hiccup about safe sex lol, anyway hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it :3

tell me if you liked it in the comments, i love getting replies on my work ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝