Could you do #36 on the angst prompt list ("What's all this blood?") with Hiccup please :00? THANK YOU <3333
a/n: of course! i am so sorry this took so long to come out, i've been super unmotivated to write anything and i've recently been sitting my prelims, but my sister got covid so i've been at home and i'm back writing, kind of, lol. hope you enjoy! Warnings: blood, injury detail, language Words: 1.4K Prompt: "What's all this blood?" Gender-neutral reader.
Agony. You've never know pain this acute, pain so utterly horrible that you can barely stumble through the door to collapse on one of your chairs. It creaks under your weight, sliding across your wooden floor and almost causing you to topple off in your unbalanced state. Your breaths are laboured, uneven, and it's hard to even keep your eyes open enough to scan the room for anything to help. Pressing your hand against the wound on your stomach makes the pain even more unbearable, but you've been told before to apply pressure to wounds to stop the bleeding. This one doesn't seem to take the hint and continues to ooze blood all over your hand, and it's now that you notice the trail of blood leading in from your door. Shit, that's going to be a pain to clean. There's nothing around for you to clean the wound with. Well, there's a half-full bucket of water by the window but judging by how you can barely stay upright in the seat, there's no chance you'll be able to get it. As for any herbs to treat the wound and bandages... they're not even in the same room. A shiver runs down your spine. You're cold, freezing, and your skin feels clammy, like you've been dipped in some sort of oil. It's getting harder and harder to breathe, but you can't get up to get those damned supplies. Dear Odin, you're going to die. And then there's a knock, a soft little rapping on your door that you wouldn't have noticed if not for your dragon's head darting round to face it. A low growl comes from its mouth as the door is opened before it ceases, realising who's just entered. "Gods, y/n," Hiccup says, gaze fixed on the bloody trail leading through the hut. "What's all this blood? You go hunting or -" His eyes land on you, on the sheer amount of blood dripping from your hand, the same hand that is trembling so much you can barely keep the pressure on the wound. "What happened? Oh, gods, y/n, what -" "Get water," you manage to say, your voice sounding quieter, shakier, than you remember. It's a struggle to get the words out. "Water, herbs and bandages, please." Without a word, Hiccup darts up the stairs where he knows you keep most of your things, and you'd laugh at the sound of him clamouring about if it weren't for the sense of impending doom, of death waiting on your doorstep. You swear you can see her dark figure looming by the windows, lurking, waiting to pounce, and you can only pray to Hel to let you live. Hiccup rushes down the stairs, holding a roll of bandages and your small containers of herbs, ones Gothi convinced you to take before you all left to journey beyond the archipelago. He all but drops them onto the table before grabbing the bucket of water by your window and crouching by your side. "I'm going to take care of you," he promises. "You're going to be fine." Gently, he moves your hand away from the wound and, in a way, some of the pain is relieved, but the sickness you feel at the sight of your completely bloodied hand becomes overpowering. If not for your dragon on the other side of you, you would've toppled over, too weak to even sit up. "Deep breaths," Hiccup instructs, grabbing a rag and dipping it into the water. "You need to stay awake. Mind telling me what happened?" He's trying to sound calm, and you appreciate that more than he could ever know, but you can hear the worry laced within his tone, see the crease in his brows at each of your flinches and winces when the cold, wet rag touches your skin. "We were just out flying," you say slowly, fighting to stay conscious. Your stomach roils with dread. "Saw a ship, it looked pretty - ow!" "Sorry." "It looked pretty normal so we stayed on course and flew over it." Your face scrunches in pain as he cleans more blood away before dropping the bloodied rag on the table. "Ah! Get that off my clean table." A laugh bursts from him. "Okay, we're getting somewhere. You're shouting at me already. Carry on." He places your hand back on the wound and presses, silently instructing you to apply pressure, while he grabs a bowl and scatters some of the herbs in it.
You watch as he pours in a little of the water before mixing it all together into some kind of green paste. It's a shock that he knows how to do all of this. "They were dragon hunters," you say, taking deep breaths as your head spins. You still feel freezing, but you can feel the sweat clinging to you like a second skin. It's horrible. "The tried to shoot us down with... something. I don't know what. Whatever it was, they had terrible aim. They got me instead of the dragon." Hiccup takes your hand away from your wound again and, as soon as he applies the herbal paste, you hiss in pain, all but falling onto your dragon. It pushes you back up so that you're sitting, but the pain as he smears the paste over the gash is unbearable. Your hand weakly clenches the table and, unable to control it, tears start pricking at your eyes. Gods, what did you do to deserve this? "I need to lift up your shirt a bit more," he says, somehow keeping his voice steady. If the roles were reversed, you would've been freaking out. "I need to be able to get the bandage on." Nodding, you struggle to sit straight so he can pull your shirt up just to your ribcage. You risk a glance down at your side and, though all the blood is gone and the paste covers most of the gash, you can still see that it's a big wound, spanning from slightly under your ribcage to a little below your waist. The amount of blood you've probably lost... if you lose anymore there's no doubt that you'll die. He unrolls the bandage slightly before beginning to wrap it around your torso. It's comforting feeling the warmth of his skin on yours as he works the coarse material around you, so comforting that you could just close your eyes and... "Hey," Hiccup says. "I need you to stay awake, love, hear me? I can't risk losing you yet." In seconds, he's finished wrapping the bandage around you and is pulling your shirt back down. It's tight, uncomfortably so, but as soon as you try to loosen it, he pulls your hand away. "It needs to be tight," he says, "or it'll keep bleeding and the paste will move about." You lean back in the chair, limp. "It itches." A small laugh. Hands reaching under your legs and behind your back. "Come on. Let's get you in bed, huh? Then you can sleep. I'll get you some water, too." When he lifts you up, it almost feels like you're floating. A quiet giggle passes through your lips as your eyes flutter between open and shut. The pain, it's still there, and it hurts like shit, but something about this all seems funny though you couldn't say what. You're in your bed before you know it, looking up at Hiccup through half-shut lids. He's smiling softly now, no longer so worried about you being on the brink of death. That crease, the little lines between his brows, lingers still with the knowledge that anything could still happen. His healing skills are good, but what you probably need is Gothi, and you're all out of Gothi's on the Edge. "You'll be fine," he says gently, brushing your hair from your forehead and placing a cool rag atop it. "I'll be right here if you need me." A tired smile tugs at your lips. "Thank you, Hiccup." "Now you owe me," he jokes. "Next time, you save my life." And, as your eyes slowly flutter shut, he presses a soft yet intimate kiss on the back of your hand, only confirming that he is there and he will stay. "Hiccup the Healer," you mumble, your words barely coherent. You snort a tiny, tired laugh. "That's your new name."














